Dave Duncan - Children of Chaos

"She organized this dedication?"

"Certainly. She terrified your father by threatening to denounce you as a Chosen of Xaran."

Frena hung to the rotted handrail and tried fiercely to focus on the seer through the flickering green lights. Pain was wringing out her brain like a wet cloth. "Why are you telling me this? I thought Maynists were Stralg supporters and counselors. Why are you pretending to thwart his sister?"

"Never pretending!" The seer's voice displayed some welcome human emotion at last—anger. "Fabia, Fabia! We serve the monster unwillingly, believe me, and only to fulfill an ancient compact, which most of us believe must now be discarded. Although only a minority in our cult think as our leader does, only her views count, and by accosting you I am sorely bending my vows of obedience. Do you feel well enough to proceed? Some officious priest will certainly start prying if you remain here very long."

Frena forced herself to resume the climb, although her feet felt like boat anchors. People coming down were glancing curiously at the seer, not at her.

"I don't think I can believe all this."

"Try, because your life is at stake. I am a Witness of Mayn ! We speak only truth."

"Yes, Witness. I am sorry. Does my father know of this?"

"Of course."

"And as soon as I have made my vows, he will receive an offer for my hand?"

"An offer he will not dare refuse."

"Who is the lucky bridegroom?"

"Saltaja's present choice is a son of her brother Horold, satrap of Kosord. The youth's name is Cutrath and he has just been, or is about to be, initiated as a Hero."

A Werist ? Ugh! Frena could not imagine a worse choice of husband. "My father ... Horth ... has always promised that I will not be forced to marry against my will."

"You will be now. No one who opposes Saltaja Hragsdor ever prospers."

"Why are you bothering to tell me if I have no choice?"

"Suicide is always an option," the seer said cheerfully. "But rarely an attractive one. Partly because I serve the goddess of truth and you should know the truth. Partly to try and frustrate the Queen of Shadows, for she is evil. Partly—and I am not supposed to tell you this—because you are what we term a seasoner . It is a subtle concept, almost impossible to explain to an extrinsic. Seasoning is a potential for greatness, and very rare. High Priestess Bjaria is an important woman in this city but has no 'flavor' at all. Your foster father is completely insipid, despite his unbounded wealth. Stralg is a seasoner, and so is Saltaja."

"Then why should I want it? What's it good for?"

"It is found in those who make history. It does not guarantee that they will do so, for many seasoners are buried by the wayside, their destiny unfulfilled. But when the gods wish to change the flavor of the world, they use a seasoner to do so. We rarely encounter seasoning before it is manifest, which is one reason we are interested in you, Fabia Celebre. Your time has not yet come."

"You are being metaphorical, I trust? You view the world as the cook pot of the gods?"

"Why not? If your flavor is the taste the gods want, then yours will be the seasoning they apply. Or you may stay forever on the kitchen shelf. This is the closest a seer will ever go to foretelling the future."

This was madness!

The seer sighed. "You cannot believe. No matter. But consider the only family you know. Horth Wigson is basically a good man, for a Ucrist, and you will put him in extreme peril if you resist the inevitable."

Right foot, left foot, right... Cold rivulets raced down Frena's ribs and the air was too thick to breathe.

"I understood—" Frena corrected herself. "What he always told me was that he went over the Edge as a young man and met my ... met Paola in Florengia, married—"

"I have no evidence that he has left Skjar since the day he arrived. How well does he speak Florengian?"

"Just a few words. Paola taught me and..." Frena stopped as the import of her words registered. Why didn't Horth speak more Florengian than that?

"It is known that Paola Apicella was hired, or coerced, as a wet nurse at a place near Celebre, to bring the hostage baby, namely you, to this Face, where you were assigned to the custody of Satrap Karvak, another Hragson. He died when rebels sacked Jat-Nogul. Apicella escaped and brought you to Skjar, where she married a promising Ucrist. The Witnesses tracked you down, of course. Saltaja was content to leave you where you were, anonymous, until she had need of you."

" As you also —" A blaze of pain made Frena drop her voice. "As you also have need of me? Suddenly everyone is trying to use me. Stralg wants me; you want to balk Stralg. What are you offering? Will you rescue me from this situation?"

The slender woman shrugged. "Witnesses observe, record, and never meddle. Besides, to expose our petty resistance efforts to Saltaja at this time would be most unwise."

Frena thought, Ha ! "Well, you say I am not Horth Wigson's natural daughter, but I have not lived with him all my life without learning to shun an exchange that only works one way. If you want my cooperation, you must offer something in return. No matter how strategic this city you mention, being queen of it would hardly compensate me for being married to an animal. These Florengian aristocrats you cite apparently gave me away as a baby, whereas Horth and Paola were everything a child could ask for in loving, caring parents. I do know that the lady Saltaja has a dubious reputation, but I always find her to be a cultivated, knowledgeable lady." So there !

"You fear her without knowing why. Can I bribe you with hopes of revenge? Saltaja had Paola Apicella murdered."

" What !" Frena stumbled to a halt, grabbed the rail with both hands, and peered blearily at the Witness. "Did you say—"

"I did. I would testify in court before a Speaker that Saltaja Hragsdor sent a flank of Werists after your foster mother with orders to beat her to death and leave the body on Wigson's doorstep. She is not a very subtle person."

"No!" Deliberate murder seemed even worse than the random violence of a gang of drunks. "Why would she do such a thing?"

"Regarding motives, I can only speculate. She certainly suspected your foster mother of causing the death of her brother, Karvak. She may have worried that Paola would initiate you into the ranks of the Chosen. Saltaja was convinced that Paola was a chthonian."

They were standing very close to the top of the stair now, but whatever lay ahead was hidden behind a fence; the path made a right-angle turn through a gate. A jabber of young boys came yelling and screaming out and plunged down the steps in a human avalanche. The yard was far below, all the waiting chariots small as children's toys.

Shivering despite the heat, Frena asked the obvious question. "And was she?"

The seer seemed to word her answer carefully. "Fabia, our goddess does not let us pry into other divinities' mysteries. Satrap Eide is obviously a Werist, because he wears the collar and also has vestigial horns, but Weru has other cults you've never heard of. If a woman wears a live fireasp as a necklace, she is undoubtedly a Nastrarian. Did you know that Ucr, your father's god, also supports a cult of thieves?"

"No! Truly?"

"Membership in the Chosen cannot be detected, no matter what the witch-hunters say."

"Mother never came here, to the Pantheon," Frena admitted.

"Apicella may have just disliked hypocrisy. She could have come, I am sure. Gods tend to be jealous of their votaries, but if the Dark One kept Her Chosen from visiting other temples, they would soon all be unmasked and destroyed. There is no perfect test!" The Witness turned, as if looking at something, although the heavy cloth over her head and face must be completely opaque, as it showed nothing of her features, only sweat stains.