David Weber - Wind Rider's Oath

"That might be unfortunate at this point," the other man agreed, wondering idly what sort of "arrow" the baron might have sent Tellian's way. "But as dangerous as magi are, it's not as if they'd really make that much difference, is it?" The baron frowned, and he shrugged. "I don't wish to appear alarmist, but at the moment, Baron Tellian has not one, but two champions of Tomanâk as houseguests," he pointed out. "I approve of all the precautions you've taken against magi, Milord, and I'm glad I was able to assist in some small way with them. But given my choice between two of Scale Balancer's champions and every mage in the world, I'd probably choose the magi."

"A point," the baron conceded. "But, of course, that assumes the two of them really are champions of Tomanâk." He bared strong, even, white teeth in something no one would ever have called a smile. "Given that we're talking about a hradani and a hradani-lover who's not only a woman but who publicly admits she was born a peasant, I sincerely doubt they are."

His visitor's expression didn't even flicker, but it wasn't easy for the little man to keep it from doing so. The baron was a powerful, cunning man who was not unduly burdened by scruples. In his own way, he was easily one of the most intelligent men the little man had ever encountered, as well. But he was also a Sothōii, and a bigot. Armored by his own iron prejudice, he genuinely didn't believe that Bahzell Bahnakson or Dame Kaeritha could possibly be what they claimed to be.

"I can understand why you might doubt their legitimacy," he lied after a moment, "but that doesn't mean they aren't dangerous. If even half the things they say about this Bahzell are true, he has a nasty habit of surviving rather . . . extreme threats. And whatever we may believe about them, a significant number of people, especially in Balthar and, unfortunately, Sothofalas, accept that they truly are champions. I might point out that even Wencit of Rūm has vouched for them. So whether they are or not, they're going to be allowed to operate as if they were."

"So Wencit of Rūm vouches for them, does he? Well, how wonderful!" The baron made a disgusted sound and looked as if he wanted to spit. "Wencit may be impressive to many people, but I'm not one of them," he said.

This time, the little man couldn't keep his shock, even fear, entirely out of his expression, and the baron chuckled harshly.

"Don't mistake me," he said. "I freely acknowledge Wencit's power, and I have no intention of openly challenging him or giving him a visible threat as a target. However, it's been my observation that Wencit is also an inveterate meddler. He works for his own ends and according to his own plans, and he's done it for so long now that I'd be surprised if even he remembers what all those ends are. I don't doubt for a moment that he would 'vouch' for this Bahzell and 'Dame Kaeritha' if it served his purposes. For that matter, I don't doubt that he'd vouch for a three-legged, one-eyed, mangy dog if it served his purposes."

His visitor nodded neutrally, but even as he did, he made a mental note to reevaluate all of the plans he and the baron had hatched together. Cunning and intelligent the nobleman might be, but what he'd just said showed an alarming ability to project his own deviousness and inherent dishonesty onto others, whether it was merited or not. The nondescript little man had no objection to deviousness and dishonesty-they, like his ability to suddenly appear places he shouldn't be able to get into-were part of his stock in trade, after all. But automatically assuming that those same qualities were what motivated an opponent, especially a powerful opponent like Wencit of Rūm, was dangerous. Success required that enemies not be underestimated or discounted.

"At the same time," the baron continued, "I recognize that his imprimatur grants this Bahzell and this Kaeritha a certain legitimacy. Fortunately, Wencit himself has already left the Wind Plain. Apparently, he believes he's accomplished whatever goal brought him here in the first place, which may well be true. But what matters for our purposes is that he's no longer here to continue to support their ridiculous claims . . . or to protect them."

"Assuming they require his protection," the other man observed.

"Oh," the baron said unpleasantly, "I think you can rely upon it that they'll require all the protection they can get before too very much longer. I have quite a few little diversions planned for both of them. Especially 'Prince Bahzell.' I believe you'll find they're much too busy just staying alive to spend a great deal of time driving spokes into our wheels."

"I see." The other man nodded again, then stretched and walked slowly across to a chair which faced the baron's desk. He settled into it and crossed his legs, and his mind was busy behind his bland eyes.

Obviously, the baron had plans even he hadn't yet discovered. Well, that had been a given from the outset. Whatever his other flaws, the baron was an experienced and skillful conspirator, and the nondescript man had taken it for granted from the beginning that he would keep his various conspiracies as separated from one another as he could. Which was only fair, since the nondescript man was doing precisely the same thing.

But all of this secrecy and skulking about, however entertaining and profitable it might be, did lead to the occasional moment of uncertainty. For example, what sort of deviltry did the baron have in mind for Bahzell and Kaeritha? And did he began to suspect the deviltry the nondescript man and his other . . . associates had in mind for the two of them? More to the point, would the baron's plans get in the way of the nondescript man's?

He considered the delightfully different possibility of simply asking the baron straightforwardly what he intended, but he was afraid the shock might do his host's health a mischief. Besides, if he asked the baron that, the baron might ask him the same question, and that could lead to all sorts of complications. The nondescript man was confident that the baron was every bit as ambitious and ruthless as he could have hoped, but there were probably limits to the actions and allies he was prepared to contemplate, even so. Given how hard he was working at maintaining his technical ignorance about the nondescript man's own abilities, it seemed safe enough to assume he would definitely balk at direct, knowing association with black wizardry and Dark Gods. For that matter, it was even possible (however unlikely) that if the baron discovered the nondescript man's full intentions and plans he might actually choose to place the well-being of the Kingdom above his own power and position.

"I suppose, since you've obviously already made arrangements to keep both of them occupied, that you're aware Prince Yurokhas seems close to convincing the King to grant official ambassadorial status to Prince Bahzell?"

"I know the Prince would like to convince the King to do so," the baron replied a bit cautiously. "According to my own sources, however, the King remains resistant. And, I should add, that's also been my own observation as a member of his Council."

"The King does remain resistant . . . so far," the other man agreed. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to grant it, Milord. As you must know even better than I, Markhos is skilled at keeping his own council and avoiding any open appearance of commitment until after he's made up his mind to act."

"That's certainly true enough," the baron agreed sourly. "He learned that from his father. Fortunately, however, and with all due respect for the Crown, he's not as intelligent, in some ways, as his younger brother." The baron snorted. "Yurokhas may have a big enough maggot in his brain where religion is concerned to accept that this Bahzell might really be a champion of Tomanâk, but aside from that, he's a dangerous man. We're fortunate so much of his time is taken up with the Order of Tomanâk in Sothofalas. If it wasn't, he'd have even more opportunity to lead the King into dangerously foolish policy decisions."