David Weber - Wind Rider's Oath

"I doubt very much that it will."

She, too, seemed to have stepped back a pace from the intensity of the moment before. She lifted her wineglass and sipped delicately, then set it gently on the table.

"All of the pieces are in place," she said. "When They decided to place this portion of the plan in Her care, They knew what They were doing." Her smile was a thing of ice and old, dried bone. "We've placed Her agents-including the ones who don't even realize they're working for Her-in all of the critical places."

"Including Trisu's household?" Varnaythus asked in a neutral tone, and she grimaced.

"No," she admitted. "Not there." She shrugged irritably. "there's something about Trisu that bothers me. When I look at him, I don't see what I see in other men's eyes."

She picked up the wineglass once more, but this time only to glower down into its depths, not to drink from it, and Varnaythus watched her expression from behind masklike eyes. It was obvious that she resented Trisu's apparent immunity to the allure of her exquisitely maintained beauty and raw sexuality, but there was more to it than simple resentment. There was also uncertainty, almost a trace of fear, and he cocked his head.

"What do you see in his eyes?" he asked finally, and she shrugged again, this time angrily.

"Suspicion," she hissed, like a cat passing a fishbone, and glowered at her fellow conspirator. The green flicker was back in her eyes, although fainter than before, and he could almost physically taste her anger-at him, this time-for forcing her to admit that. But he could stand more than Dahlaha's anger if that was the price of making sure he didn't disappoint Them.

"Suspicion of what?" he asked, quietly, but in a tone whose firmness reminded her that he was her superior-for now, at least-and warned her that he expected an answer.

"I don't know," she admitted, then tossed her head angrily. "I know he knows I'm Triahm's mistress, and he's too straitlaced to care for that. Besides, he likes Triahm's wife, and I'm sure he resents his cousin's infidelity because of that, as well. But there's something else in there, too, and I'm not sure exactly what it is."

She obviously hated confessing that much, but she made herself meet Varnaythus' eyes steadily, and it seemed to him that she was being honest about her concerns. Or, at least, as honest as it was possible for her to be.

"Well, he obviously doesn't know Who you serve," the wizard-priest observed. "If he did, you'd be dead-or at least fled, with his troops in hot pursuit, which would be almost as bad from Their viewpoint. I wonder . . ."

His voice trailed off, and he gazed into the distance at something only he could see, his fingers drumming absently on his thigh while he thought. Dahlaha stood it in silence for as long as she could, then cleared her throat noisily. His eyes popped back into focus and swiveled to her.

"You wonder what?" she demanded.

"I wonder if he's Gifted," the wizard-priest replied.

"Gifted?" Dahlaha sat up on her chaise lounge, her expression alarmed. "Is that possible?"

"Of course it's possible." Varnaythus grimaced. "He's a Sothōii. Whatever they may have degenerated into since, they're descended from the oldest, highest noble families of the Empire of Ottovar. Some of them probably have traces of Ottovar and Gwynytha's blood in their veins even today. Most of the surviving wizard lords of Kontovar are descended from exactly the same source, for Phrobus' sake. The Art is bred into their bone and blood, Dahlaha. It's our good fortune that their ancestors turned so completely against all forms of wizardry after their escape to Norfressa. There's a very good chance Trisu's bloodline carries the Gift, but there's virtually no chance at all of his knowing it. Still, if it's strong enough, he might well have at least a touch of True Sight. In which case he probably recognizes that there's something hidden behind your outward appearance. There's no way he could know what , not without a great deal of training he can't possibly have had. But many people who possess instinctive True Sight rely on it even if they don't know exactly what it is." He shrugged. "Most of them simply assume that they have unusually accurate 'hunches' and let it go at that."

"You never suggested he might have any abilities like that!"

"I don't recall your ever having asked me what abilities he might have," Varnaythus replied coolly. "As you've pointed out to me several times, this end of the operation is yours-yours and your Lady's. I assumed that if you'd had any reason to believe you needed my assistance, you would have asked for it."

Dahlaha glared at him, obviously looking for a fresh line of attack, but his defense was unassailable. The Lorham and Kalatha portions of the master plan to destabilize the Kingdom of the Sothōii and return it to the Time of Troubles were, indeed, her responsibility.

"Very well," she huffed finally, " be that way. But at least tell me this-is this untrained Gift of his likely to see through Triahm's role playing?"

"It probably already has," Varnaythus said calmly. "Luckily for us, even if he were trained, he wouldn't be able to read minds. He's not a mage, Dahlaha. I'm sure he realized long ago that his dear cousin Triahm hates his guts and resents the fact that a man ten years younger than he is inherited the title he wants so badly. Trisu doesn't trust Triahm as far as he could throw a courser, but aside from helping to confirm that his general suspicions are justified, the True Sight won't help him anywhere else. Although, it's possible that the combination of his distrust for Triahm and any True Sight he might possess could explain why he should have taken his cousin's mistress in such dislike." He flicked one hand in a throwing-away gesture. "On the other hand, does it really matter? Do you really care how much Trisu may dislike you? I mean, you're planning on having the man killed , Dahlaha, so what does it matter if he doesn't particularly care for you?"

"It doesn't matter at all," she said, "except that the eye he keeps on me has prevented me from infiltrating his household the way I managed at Kalatha. I haven't cared to take too many chances, so I've been unable to eliminate or tamper with people like Salthan."

"There's not really any need to put Salthan out of the way," Varnaythus said after a brief consideration. "Or, rather, we can let Triahm deal with it once Trisu's dead. That's the beauty of it. We didn't have to change anything at this end."

"I know. I'd still feel better if I had more positive control of the situation, though."

"There's never any such thing as too much control," Varnaythus agreed. "Still, it sounds as if you have things in hand. What truly matters is goading the war maids into providing the proper provocation, not whether or not Trisu responds to it exactly the way we want him to. After all," he leaned back with an expansive gesture and an icy smile, "when the time comes, what will count isn't what actually happened, but what everyone thinks happened."

"Leeana, this is Garlahna Lorhanalfressa. She'll be your mentor during your probationary period."

Leeana saw a very young war maid, no more than six years older than she was. Garlahna was considerably shorter than Leeana, with brown hair and brown eyes. She looked as if she ought to be smiling, but at the moment her expression and body language were soberly attentive, almost brusquely businesslike. She stood at a sort of parade rest, feet slightly spread and hands clasped behind her, her attention evenly divided between Leeana and Erlis Rahnafressa. Erlis was the fair-haired, brown-eyed Commander of One Hundred-roughly equivalent to the rank of captain in the Empire of the Axe's Royal and Imperial Army-who appeared to be in charge of training new war maid . . . recruits. At forty-three, she was a bit old for her rank, but she looked like a competent, no-nonsense sort of person. Perhaps the left arm she'd lost just above the elbow explained why she'd risen no higher in rank. She reminded Leeana a great deal of a female version of Sir Jahlahan Swordspinner.