Dave Duncan - Children of Chaos

"We are not required to volunteer information to Stralg's agents, and over the years most of us have become extremely skilled at deceiving without actually lying. However, when Saltaja read Stralg's first dispatches this spring, she decided to make a personal tour of inspection—escorting Fabia was incidental—and that decision was a critical turning point, what we refer to as a 'weft.' We sensed it like a clap of thunder. The journey opened her eyes to the fact that the numbers did not add up, that at least a third of the reinforcements being sent to aid the bloodlord were never reaching Nardalborg.

"Even at Kosord we still managed to hide the details from her, but after that her own guards began deserting. This afternoon she had Therek summon a seer. I knew the moment had come, so I answered the call, and I lied . I told her that the New Dawn rebels were mustering at Nuthervale and I grossly understated their number. I gave False Witness, and for that I shall be expelled from the mystery. I broke my most sacred oath, but I feel no shame or guilt."

Ingeld said, "In my opinion it is long overdue. Without the seers' complicity, Stralg and his hateful gang would have all died years ago."

"So it wasn't Father!" Fabia said. "When the Werists disappeared on the way here? It wasn't Father helping, it was you!"

Mist chuckled. "It was the riverfolk. They receive a bounty for every willing deserter delivered to High Timber. We need not discuss where that silver comes from—agreed, Master Wigson?"

"Um? No." Horth seemed to be preoccupied in studying Fabia.

Benard grunted. "I always thought Witnesses couldn't lie."

"Oh, we can sin as well as you can. We can only do it once, though."

An uncomfortable silence settled on the room. Everyone there except Fabia was a henotheist, sworn to a mystery, and they were all breaking faith. Ingeld herself had broken her vows—in spirit if not in word—when she had invited Benard to father her child and then fled, the city with him. Benard was neglecting his art, Guthlag had broken faith with his lord, and perhaps Horth Wigson was breaking oaths to Ucr by pursuing Fabia's happiness instead of simply amassing wealth. Now the seers, too!

At last Ingeld said, "Have you consulted a Speaker? Holy Demern does allow certain oaths to be set aside—those made under duress, for example, or those that conflict with earlier vows."

"I can quote holy law to better effect than that," Mist said curtly. "That does not matter now. Tomorrow, the satrap will learn that his prisoners have vanished. He will summon his seer again. Do you think he would believe another denial?"

"So the revolution has begun?" Benard said.

Ingeld could feel the knots in his shoulders tighten even more.

Mist said, "It begins tomorrow."

"No more seers," Benard said, "but... Flankleader?"

"Hand?" The old Werist still seemed fast asleep, flat as a puddle, but he had not snored in some time, Ingeld realized, and only Benard had noticed.

"Fabia and Master Wigson have escaped from the satrap's cells. How long will it take his warbeasts to track them to this room?"

Still the old man did not open his eyes. "Ever drop a raw egg off'na table, so it broke on the floor?"

"Yes."

" 'Bout that long."

Benard looked around. "I've lived with this problem all my life," he said apologetically.

"We did think of that, Bena," said Mist. "But now you have the Witnesses on your side, which makes a difference. Poppy and I are currently keeping watch on the palace and all is calm. It's highly unlikely that the prisoners' absence will be noted before morning, but we're all going to head down to the river very shortly, just in case. We'll wait there for dawn, unless the tocsin sounds, in which case we'll sail at once. Even Werists can't follow a scent over running water—right, my lord?"

"Right," Guthlag said, opening his eyes and yawning.

"So tomorrow the satrap will find no seers in Tryfors. All of them will be heading inward along the Wrogg, spreading the word, and by the time the Eldest hears the news, it will be too late. She can anathematize us, but she will probably be too busy evacuating Bergashamm. Since we cannot continue to shield you here in Tryfors, I suggest that you and your lady accompany us."

Benard looked around to seek Ingeld's approval.

"What of my son?" she asked, trying not to show her anger. She had no love left for the brute Horold had become, but she had no love for treachery either, and news of a secret rebel army poised to strike appalled her. She feared for Cutrath, the Fist's nephew, innocently standing in its path. "Is there to be yet another civil war? Tell us what this illegal host at High Timber is planning. I would think any rebels' first logical move would be to seize Nardalborg and block the pass, to trap Stralg on the Florengian Face. What of Benard's brother?"

Mist sighed. "Orlad is as good as dead. I gave him as much warning as I dared, but his long-awaited initiation day had a black dawn, and he cannot bear it. Your son, my lady, will I think be much more valuable to the rebels as a hostage to be used against your husband than he will as a dead body. I realize that this is small comfort, but it is the best I have to offer. Tomorrow I propose to take word of our revolt to High Timber myself, but I cannot predict what Hordeleader Arbanerik will choose to do. I invite you all to come with me."

She offered no alternative, Ingeld noted. They were all conspirators now. It was death-to-traitors time.

Benard had apparently not seen that, or else he was astonishingly willing to trust this faceless seer. "Of course we will. And you, Fabia?"

"Certainly. You agree, Father?"

"Possibly. Why don't you introduce me to your other brother, Frena?"

Benard's shoulders went hard as marble.

"He calls himself Mist now," the trader continued, "but on the river he was Urth, and long ago was he not Dantio?"

When no one corrected him, it was Ingeld herself who said, "Praise the gods! Praise holy Veslih, who cherishes families! All four of you?" It was a long time since she had felt such a pain of joy in her throat.

The reunion was tainted. When the seer removed his veil, he revealed a youthful Florengian face, but his features were no more masculine than his voice. "How did you work that out, Master Ucrist Wigson?"

"It was fairly obvious, Master Witness Celebre," Horth said with his usual diffidence. "From what 'Mist' just told us, 'she' had been in Kosord and even Skjar at the same time we had. Then 'she' arrived in Tryfors on the same day we did, so I knew that 'she' had traveled with us in our convoy. After that it was merely a process of elimination. When none of the riverfolk I remembered fit, I was left with their Florengian slaves, and I recalled that one of them, Urth, had a treble voice and no beard, so obviously had been castrated in boyhood and was therefore no prisoner of war. He was Mist's size. In age he would match the 'deceased' Dantio, and... Well, I do know your sister very well, Witness, and when she came in here she was bursting with some secret. Although she was pleased to have her brother Benard back again, she was much more interested in you." Wigson's eyes were still as bland as wren's eggs.

"It is wonderful to have you back from the dead!" Fabia said.

"It is wonderful to be able to greet my sister and brother without deception." Dantio shook his head sadly. "This is the day I have dreamed of since our parting, fifteen years ago. I have worked for it unceasingly. Today I return and the family is complete again. Today we are reunited at last. But tomorrow we lose Orlad."

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