David Weber - Wind Rider's Oath

"Well, that's blunt enough, at any rate," Tellian murmured, and quirked an eyebrow as Bahzell stirred in his chair. "Yes, Milord Champion?"

"If you'll pardon my sticking my own finger into your pie, Milord Baron," the massive Horse Stealer rumbled, "it's quite a few things I've heard of this Erathian, as well, and not a one of 'em good."

"To be honest, I could say the same myself," Tellian agreed. He stroked his beard for another moment, then cocked his head at Yarran.

"From what I've seen of you, Sir Yarran, I doubt very much that you'd be pointing a finger at someone just because you didn't care for his manner."

"I'd try not too, any road, Milord. But not only was Erathian sucking up to Mathian before you arrived to spoil the party, but whoever's been raiding our cattle and horses has been giving us the slip by disappearing with them in the Bogs. Now, that's as nasty a stretch as you're like to find anywhere on the Wind Plain, all full of mud and water and a few patches of quicksand. Yet whoever's been using it for a highroad for cattle's managed to do it without leaving a single mired beef to point his tracks." The marshal shook his head. "I was second in command to Lord Festian when he commanded Redhelm's scouts, Milord. It was my business to find my way through bad going, and I've spent more time in the Bogs than most of Lord Festian's men. But I'll tell you plain, I'd not be able to get through there so slick. It would take someone who knew his way through them like them back of his own hand to get herds that size through at all, much less without losses, and Erathian's holding lies smack in the middle of the Bogs. As a matter of fact, it's one of your border holdings. It backs up against Golden Vale. In the South Riding."

Sir Yarran stopped speaking, but his eyes met Tellian's steadily, and Tellian frowned.

"Golden Vale. That would be Lord Warden Saratic, wouldn't it?" It was a statement, not a question, and Yarran nodded silently.

"That's a nasty thought, Sir Yarran," the baron said after a moment. "Not that that necessarily means you're wrong. Especially given that Saratic was so happy to give his cousin Mathian a refuge after the King stripped him of his wardenship."

" 'Happy' might be putting it just a bit strongly, Milord." Yarran said with a grim chuckle. "He was ready enough to take Mathian in, but he wasn't half pleased about it. And he'd some remarkably warm things to say about you-and about you, Prince Bahzell-at the time."

"But he's one of Baron Cassan's vassals, isn't he?" Brandark asked.

"Indeed he is," Tellian agreed. "Which, I'm very much afraid, only means Sir Yarran's point is even better taken. Cassan and I aren't exactly boon companions."

He snorted, and Bahzell and Brandark grimaced. Trianal kept his own expression carefully blank, but the bitter enmity between Cassan and Tellian was proverbial. For almost two decades now, they had been locked in combat for domination of the Royal Council, although, up until Mathian Redhelm's attempted invasion of Hurgrum, Tellian had been slowly but steadily gaining the ascendancy.

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised to find him involved in something like this," Tellian continued. "In fact, I'm fairly certain he used Saratic to help encourage his cousin Mathian's . . . indiscretion in the Gullet. And whether he had a hand in that particular fiasco or not, I imagine it would be all but impossible for him to resist this temptation. But if he is involved, I'm certain he's covered his tracks carefully."

"I don't think I'm after being all that fond of Baron Cassan," Bahzell mused out loud.

"Fair enough," Tellian said. "He thinks the only good hradani is one being used for well-rotted fertilizer."

"Even so," Brandark said thoughtfully, "however carefully he's covered his tracks, he's still running quite a risk if he's involved himself. I know you Sothōii are almost as fond of blood feuds as we hradani are, and I've been told cattle raids and horse stealing are among your minor lord wardens' favorite sports. But if it ever comes to light that one of your barons has been attacking another baron's lands, the consequences could be pretty extreme . . . for everyone."

"You've a way with words, Lord Brandark." Yarran's tone was dust dry. "Take us back to the Troubles, that could, like in King Markhos' grandsire's day, with every lord's hand turned against every other lord."

"I don't think Cassan would take things that far-not intentionally, at any rate,"Tellian said, shaking his head. "That's why I'm certain he's covered his involvement very carefully, if he is involved. Still, I can see why it would be attractive to him. Especially if Erathian is doing the actual raiding."

"Aye, Milord." Yarran nodded his head vigorously. "If he discredits Lord Festian, then he discredits you, because you're the one who was willing to name a simple knight lord warden in that idiot Mathian's stead. And if he can discredit you there, then he's a wedge to discredit you elsewhere. In the meantime, if anything slips, Erathian's his scapegoat. And if throwing Erathian to the hounds isn't enough, then he's Saratic next in line. And Saratic, as Mathian's cousin and what passes for the head of the House of Redhelm these days, makes a splendid decoy. He's reason enough to hate Festian all on his own, and Cassan has more than enough members of the Council in his pocket to protect Saratic from serious consequences as long as Saratic keeps silent about any involvement of Cassan's."

"You're right, Sir Yarran," Tellian said, and regarded the grizzled warrior with speculative interest. Yarran saw the look in his eyes and it was his turn to snort.

"There's no cause to be looking at me all thoughtful, Milord Baron. It's not as if anyone in the entire Kingdom doesn't know how much Cassan hates you. Maybe it's not my place to be speaking my mind so clear, but it doesn't take a genius to see how he's a whole layered defense in place if any of his plans should slip."

"Perhaps not," Tellian agreed. "But don't sell yourself short, Sir Yarran. There are members of the Council who either can't-or won't-see the same logic."

"Maybe that's because they've not spent their entire lives living down on your border with Cassan," Yarran said with grim humor. "It's an amazing thing how that . . . focuses your thoughts."

Tellian nodded appreciatively, but his gray eyes were distant and the others could almost physically feel the intensity of his thoughts. He sat that way for over two full minutes, then shook himself, like a dog who'd just stepped in from the rain.

"Well, Sir Yarran," he said, his eyes refocusing on the knight. "I can see why Lord Festian sent you. On several levels." He smiled under his brushy mustache as Yarran's eyebrows quirked. "He had to send someone to explain what sort of help he needs, and why," the baron continued. "And since he did, he showed excellent judgment in sending someone who understands the situation as well as you obviously do. I must confess that I already knew some of what you've told me, but I hadn't realized the whole of it. I'm going to require a day or two to think about it before I decide how best to help Lord Warden Festian deal with it. I assure you, however, that it will be dealt with."

There was a world of determination in his choice of verbs, and Bahzell felt himself nodding in approval.

"In the meantime," Tellian said, slapping the arms of his chair and then thrusting himself up out of it, "consider yourself my honored guest, Sir Yarran. I'm very pleased to have you here, and I'll ask Trianal to escort you to the suite Kalan has assigned to you. Once you've had a chance to settle in, I think it would be an excellent idea for you to spend some time speaking with my own senior officers. I'd be obliged if you-and you, Trianal-" he glanced at his nephew "would leave Baron Cassan out of it, but feel free to share any of your other information or conclusions with them, including your thoughts about Erathian and Lord Saratic." He smiled thinly. "Most of my people are smart enough to figure out who'd have to be behind Saratic, so there's no need to be any more specific about it. And unlike some nobles, I've discovered that keeping the people who are supposed to help you handle any wars or other little unpleasantnesses which come your way as fully informed as possible is a good idea. At least they're more likely to keep you from stepping on your . . . sword that way."