Paul Kemp - Shadowbred

"Unwise," Vees said, and hurriedly added, "and I mean no offense, Mister Cale. But the Noble District will be overrun by refugees the day the Helms exit the city."

"Nonsense," Cale said, and Vees stiffened. "Subsidize the cost of food during the crisis. Distribute it through the Scepters. Require the temples to direct their priests to use magic to make food and distribute it."

"They will not do it," Vees said dismissively.

"Some are already doing it," Cale answered. "This is just a matter of forcing the rest. You could lead by example, Talendar. You're a priest, no?"

Vees nodded tightly. "Construction occupies my time, Mister Cale."

Cale scoffed and continued. "Do not make an announcement and force a public fight with the faiths, my lord. Instead, let the high priests know through back channels that if they do not obey, the temples' taxes will increase markedly and you may revoke their charters. You have the tools, Lord Hulorn."

"The gods grant spells, Mister Cale," said Vees. "If the priests say the gods will not grant the spells to make food, then what? Would you have the hulorn hold a blade to the gods?"

Cale did not mention that he had done exactly that in an alley just hours before. Instead, he said, "The gods will not refuse. They need their priests as much as their priests need them."

Vees looked startled by Cale's statement, but Tamlin looked intrigued. "Interesting, Mister Cale. What do you think, Vees?" Tamlin asked.

The sound of hurried footsteps coming down the hall toward the parlor interrupted whatever Vees might have said. All three men turned to the doorway, and Tazi appeared, breathing heavily.

"Thazienne," Vees said, but she did not even glance at the nobleman. She had eyes, wide eyes, only for Cale.

"Erevis?"

Sweat pasted Tazi's dark hair to her face and she held a riding crop in her hand. She wore tight breeches and boots rather than the more decorous riding dress customary for Sembian noblewomen. The year since he'd seen her last had not changed her at all. She was as beautiful as ever. Her green eyes sparkled under the waves of her hair.

Cale had feared how seeing her might make him feel. To his surprise, he felt only fondness, not desire. He had left his love for her behind when he'd left Stormweather and it had died in the intervening year. He smiled at her.

"Well met, Mistress Uskevren."

She ran a hand through her sweaty hair. "1 was just on a morning ride when I heard you had returned. I ran right over." His words registered, and she asked, "Did you call me 'Mistress Uskevren'?"

"Thazienne," Cale corrected with a smile. "Tazi."

"That's more like it," she said with her own smile. She crossed the chamber to embrace him.

Tamlin said, "Tazi, I do not know-"

"What I am cannot harm her, my lord," Cale said, interrupting him and embracing her. She felt tiny in his arms and smelled, as always, of lavender. He kept the shadows from leaking out of his flesh.

Thazienne pulled back and looked from Cale to her brother. "What you are? What does that mean?"

"It means nothing," Cale said softly. "It is wonderful to see you."

"And you," she answered. She eyed his hair, his skin, cupped his cheek in her palm. "You feel cold. And you look so different. What happened to you? Where have you been? Ren told us what you did for him. It seems you have made a habit of saving the members of this household."

Cale felt his skin warm with embarrassment. He had once saved Thazienne from a demon attack within Stormweather's walls.

"Many things have happened," he said. "We can talk about it another time. You look the same as ever. But happier. That pleases me."

She smiled and he saw in her expression the ghost of the shy girl he had watched grow into a bold woman.

"Ahem," Tamlin said. "Tazi, perhaps you and Mister Cale could continue your reunion at a later time. We are discussing matters of state at the moment. Time is short."

She kept her dark eyes on Cale and smiled. "He has grown serious, don't you think? Not as serious as you, but serious enough. Father would be proud, I think."

Cale nodded, though he was not as sure.

"Talbot will want to see you," she said. "But he is away at Storl Oak. I will send word."

"We will speak later, Tazi. Well enough?"

She smiled wistfully. "Over a brandy in the butler's pantry?"

They often had stayed awake late into the night, talking over spirits in the pantry.

"Perhaps in the dining hall?" Cale said. "For a late breakfast? The pantry is no longer my domain. Irwyl is king there now."

"I will see you there," she said. "Brilla has a wonderful torte you should try."

"So I have heard," Cale said.

Tazi grinned, nodded, neglected to curtsy to either Tamlin or Vees, and took her leave.

Cale watched her go, pleased that his heart was steady, that his feelings for her had matured. His mind turned to Varra and he wondered how she was faring.

"As I was saying," Vees continued. "I do not agree with all of Mister Cale's suggestions. I believe he thinks too highly of the refugees and too little of the priesthoods. Do as you think best, Deuce," he said, using Tamlin's nickname.

Cale held his tongue while Tamlin sipped his wine and pondered. Silence hung heavy in the room.

Tamlin stared down at the chessboard for a time, then put down his goblet and said, "My father relied on your counsel for years, Erevis. I will not disregard it lightly. But I will not pull the Helms off the streets," he said, with a nod to Vees. "I will, however, order them to assist with food distribution. And I will send word to the high priests as you suggested. A more serious commitment on the part of the temples should keep people from starving."

Cale figured a partial victory was better than none at all.

"Well decided," Vees said, and Cale disliked the nobleman even more.

Cale asked Tamlin, "When will we leave for Ordulin, my lord?"

"I began preparations upon receiving word from the High Council. Things are taking longer than I had hoped, but we will be ready to leave in the next day or two."

Vees said, "Many other nobles have already left for Ordulin. We know that the Saerloonian delegation is en route already. They passed Selgaunt two days ago, though they skirted the city."

"Skirted the city?"

"Tension appears to be very high in the capital, Mister Cale," Tamlin said. "And it has spilled out into the countryside. The nobles are lining up behind Mirabeta Selkirk or Endren Corrinthal. The Saerloonians do not trust us, so they avoided Selgaunt altogether. Things are sharp at the moment."

Cale took in the words, feeling unsuited to the task of helping Tamlin. He had been solving problems with his spells and blades for so long that politics felt foreign to him.

Tamlin picked up his goblet and drained it. "But all that in due time. I apologize that we will depart so soon. The schedule does not leave you much time for settling in. And my day will be full since I need to sign the orders we've just discussed. We will dine this evening, however. My apologies."

"I will manage, Hulorn," Cale said. "I remember my way around."

"Of course," Tamlin said, and smiled. "I am interested in hearing your explanation about… the other events."

"Yes, my lord." Cale said. "My lord, where is Lady Uskevren? I would like to speak with her before we leave."

"She has been away upcountry with Talbot," Tamlin answered. "This city, and the manse, make her unhappy these days. We rebuilt the old upcountry manor house at Storl Oak. She seems to enjoy it there. But she is to return later this morning to see me off. Your presence will be a pleasant surprise."

Cale knew Shamur to be a former adventuress, and she knew him to be more than a steward. They had come to respect and admire each other over Cale's years at Stormweather.