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“Well, no,” Sholdan said.
“Neither do I. And while I’m about it, I might as well acknowledge that your Lady and Her servants succeeded brilliantly in that particular phase of the operation.”
“It would have been better if the shardohns had gotten them all,” Sholdan grumbled, but Varnaythus shook his head.
“No. It’s much better this way—someone had to get home to tell the Sothoii what happened. You’ll get all the rest of them in time, if the plan works properly, but for now those poor, pathetic survivors are bound to arouse every protective instinct the Sothoii have. And if there hadn’t been any survivors at all, how could we have goaded them into responding?”
“I can see that,” Salgahn said. “On the other hand, it was Tellian who was supposed to be sucked in, not Bahzell.”
“Yes,” Sholdan said. “No one suggested we’d have to deal with a champion of Tomanak!” There wasn’t much question that in this case the “we” meant Jerghar Sholdan and his coreligionists, not Varnaythus and Salgahn or any of their associates.
“The possibility was always there,” Varnaythus pointed out, his tone less cutting but still a bit impatient. “Ideally, Tellian would have taken his men out himself and been destroyed, of course. But there was always the chance—the distinct probability, really—that Bahzell would insist on accompanying him. It’s what those interfering busybodies of Tomanak’s do.” He shrugged. “If the plan is sound and it’s executed properly, it should be capable of dealing with ’Prince Bahzell.’ And even if we don’t manage to destroy him, we may manage to kill Brandark. That wouldn’t be as good as getting Bahzell, of course, but it’s almost as good as getting Tellian.”
“I wish They’d tell us why it’s so damned important to kill two damned hradani,” Salgahn muttered. “Tellian, I can understand. For that matter, Bahzell makes sense. But why Brandark? He’s no prince or champion!”
“I’m sure we’ll find out someday, if we don’t manage to kill him,” Varnaythus said dryly. “Always assuming we survive not killing him in the first place. Which, just between the three of us, is another reason I’m perfectly happy to see Bahzell and Brandark riding off towards Warm Springs without us. I’m just upset because Tellian isn’t with them.”
“And because you don’t know what else Cassan might be up to that could disorder our plans,” Salgahn put in.
“And because of that,” Varnaythus admitted.
“I’ll have my people in Toramos see what they can find out,” the assassin said. “I know your contacts with Cassan are probably better than mine, but I’ve got more sets of eyes and ears than you do.”
“Good!” Varnaythus grunted. “I’ll do what I can, as well, but there are too many magi in Toramos for comfort. Cassan may be more than a bit irrational on the subject, but they really do constitute a threat—to us, at least, if not to him. If you want real honesty, that’s the main reason I haven’t done more scrying, Jerghar,” he admitted. “If I use any of the really effective spells, one of them is likely to catch me at it. They probably wouldn’t be able to identify me, but they could certainly tell who I was trying to watch, which could be almost as bad.”
“I’d prefer for them not to know we’re using wizardry at all,” Salgahn said frankly. “Anything that might bring Wencit of Rum back to the Wind Plain would be a really bad idea, as far as I’m concerned!”
“Amen to that,” Varnaythus said fervently, and touched the lump under his shirt and tunic that was the small wizard’s wand of wrought silver he wore on the chain about his neck. His clothing hid it, but the simple fact that he possessed it would earn the death penalty if it was discovered. And if Wencit of Rum should happen to discover that Varnaythus wore the amulet of a priest of Carnadosa, death would probably be preferable to his fate.
“What about Kalatha?” Sholdan asked.
“At the moment, everything seems to be proceeding nicely. I’ll check with Dahlaha while I’m there, of course but I don’t expect any problems to have cropped up since my last visit,” Varnaythus told him.
The banker looked as if he wanted to ask more questions, but Varnaythus had made it clear he intended to keep the different aspects of the complex, interwoven operation as compartmentalized as possible. He needed Sholdan’s cooperation—or, rather, his cooperation and that of his fellow Servants of Krahana. But however reliable the banker’s discretion might have been in matters of business, Varnaythus didn’t trust his ability to keep his mouth shut (and his hands off) anything really important. Time enough to let Sholdan know all that was involved at Kalatha when the operation had been crowned with success. For the moment, let him continue to think that nothing else was as important as killing Bahzell, Tellian, and Brandark.
“Very well,” the wizard-priest continued, shaking aside his thoughts. “I believe we’re all up to date. Jerghar, get word to your Lady’s Servants immediately that Bahzell and Brandark are on their way, then get up there and take personal charge of dealing with them. Salgahn, I’ll check with your message drop in Sothofalas to see what you may have discovered when I get back to the capital. In the meantime, I have a few errands to take care of for Them before I head back.”
The other two nodded, and he strode briskly out of the room. One of the advantages of wizardry was how quickly he could cover ground, he thought. He had plenty of time to drop by Lorham and check the Kalathan situation’s progress personally before he headed back to Sothofalas.
Chapter Eighteen
Although Alfar Axeblade’s family came originally from the westernmost edge of the West Riding, he hadn’t had any actual personal experience with hradani. One of his grandfathers and two of his uncles had been killed in border clashes with Horse Stealer raiders in the years before Prince Bahnak had been strong enough to forbid such attacks, and his family’s modestly prosperous farm and its prized herd of horses had been wiped out in the process. But Alfar himself had been no more than a child when his father relocated to Warm Springs, which was far enough from the Escarpment that no hradani raid had ever penetrated to it. His family history was more than sufficient to reinforce the traditional Sothoii prejudice against all hradani, but unlike men who’d actually fought against them, he was unprepared for the reality of hradani endurance.
He’d become familiar with it over the last several hours, however.
Bahzell had brought along a half dozen members of the Hurgrum chapter of the Order of Tomanak, all but two of them Horse Stealers. The other two were both Bloody Swords, who, like Brandark, were small enough (by hradani standards) that a sturdy horse might be expected to carry them without too much complaint. All three of the Bloody Swords had brought along an additional horse each, which would at least allow them to switch off when their initial mounts tired, but no horse in its right mind would have consented to carry a Horse Stealer. So Bahzell and his four fellow clansmen, including Hurthang and Gharnal, were on foot.
Alfar had expected that to slow them down, and he’d been prepared to protest that speed was essential. By the time they’d been on the road for two hours, he was just as glad he hadn’t let the words out of his mouth. The five Horse Stealers loped along in a sort of half-jog, half-run that easily matched the best pace even a Sothoii warhorse could sustain. Worse, they did it apparently effortlessly. They spent a good bit of their time cheerfully insulting their Bloody Sword brethren over the shorter legs which made horses necessary for them, but Alfar suspected that Brandark and his fellows could have matched their endurance if they’d truly needed to. Possibly not as easily, however. Or, at least, Alfar hoped not. It was bad enough watching the Horse Stealers do it! Bahzell was actually able to run along at Alfar’s side, in full armor, and carry on a conversation with him while he did so.