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He started to open his mouth again, then thought better of it and simply shook his head, instead.
“Better,” she said, a twinkle lurking in the eyes which had been so shadowed with sorrow ever since his return from Kalatha without Leeana. Those eyes narrowed for just an instant as she wondered how much of his apparent indecisiveness was no more than a ploy to distract her from their shared grief by inciting her to take him to task.
“Yes, dear,” he said meekly. Then he drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
“Speaking of Trianal,” he began. “I’ve been thinking—”
“Yes,” she said, and he blinked in surprise at the interruption.
“ ’Yes,’ what?” he asked.
“Yes, you should go ahead and write Gayarla and His Majesty about our formal adoption of Trianal.”
He looked down at her, his eyes suddenly soft, and she gazed back up at him with a serenity she was surprised to discover was almost entirely genuine.
“Of course it hurts to think that in some way we would be ’replacing’ Leeana with such indecent haste,” she went on. “But after her, he’s the only logical heir, anyway. The Royal Council would certainly name him as your heir if you died tomorrow! So the sooner it’s done and the matter is officially settled, the sooner people like Cassan will be unable to meddle in the succession. And that was the entire reason Leeana … left us. Besides, Trianal is a wonderful boy. I couldn’t love him more if he’d been our son from birth. And—I know you won’t take this wrongly—despite everything your sister-in-law did wrong raising him, he’s grown into a fairly wonderful young man, as well. One who will make an excellent baron and lord warden after you.”
“I feel sure Gayarla would point out that it was you and I who lost a daughter to those u
“Tellian, is there some reason your softening brain is causing you to forget who my father and grandfather were? The Whitesaddles aren’t exactly strangers to politics or the responsibilities of rulers. It’s not as if we have a great deal of choice about it … which is why I’m so glad Trianal is someone we already love.” She shook her head. “Write the letters, Tellian. But do it from Glanharrow! You’ve wasted enough time dithering about leaving me behind already!”
“Yes, Milady,” he said. But then he took her in his arms, standing high on the terrace where every one of his waiting armsmen could see them, and kissed her long, lingeringly, and passionately. He took his time to do it properly, and he left her panting for breath when they finally straightened.
“Lout!” She smacked him on the breastplate with a balled-up fist, her eyes shining. “How dare you insult my dignity so publicly! My husband will know how to deal with your familiarities, Sirrah!”
“I don’t know about that,” he said, his eyes devouring her face with bright, passionate tenderness, “but I know how eager I’ll be to get back home to you. And,” his eyes twinkled, and he brushed her lips lightly with his own once more, “whether your husband will know how to deal with me or not, Milady, I will most assuredly know how to deal with you!”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“You’re walking better than I expected,” Brandark said with a smile as Bahzell stepped out onto the manor house’s veranda in the gathering dusk.
“And aren’t you after being just the most humorous little man in the world?” Bahzell rumbled, easing himself down to sit—gingerly—on the veranda’s wide rail.
“If I’m not, it’s not because of lack of effort or native talent,” Brandark replied, his smile slipping over into a grin as Bahzell grimaced in evident discomfort. “Is your backside very sore, Milord Champion?”
“Well, as to that, it’s not so much my arse as my legs.” Bahzell snorted, and then rotated his left shoulder with obvious caution. “And I’ll not deny as how that last tumble wasn’t after being the very most pleasant experience a man might have enjoyed.”
“No, I could see that,”Brandark said, gazing at him judiciously. “On the other hand, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone attempt to pack a six-month course of riding lessons into less than a week before, either. Especially not a Horse Stealer.” He tilted his prominent nose upward and sniffed audibly. “Unlike us compact and skilled Bloody Swords, you poor, oversized amateurs look like sacks of dried horse dung in the saddle. You don’t think you and Walsharno might be overdoing things just a bit, given your native disadvantages, do you?”
“It’s not as if we were after having much choice about it,” Bahzell pointed out, his tone far more serious than Brandark’s had been. “If we’re to be honest about it, we’ve spent too long on it already.”
“You promised Kelthys,” Brandark riposted.
“Aye, that I did,” Bahzell acknowledged, his subterranean bass voice heavy. He rose and walked across to the outer edge of the veranda, his footsteps heavier than usual in the new riding boots Lord Edinghas’ cobbler had finished only the day before. He gazed up at the stars, and they gleamed back down at him with distant, emotionless beauty while the thin crescent of the Maiden’s fragile new moon hung low on the horizon.
“I did promise,” he said, his eyes on the stars, “yet I’m thinking it might have been best if I’d not listened to him. There’s a foulness here, Brandark—one such as you and I have never faced yet, not even in Sharna ’s temple. I’ve no least business taking others into such a stench of evil as this. There’s death in it, and worse than death could ever be.”
“I know,” Brandark said very quietly, his voice for once untouched by any hint of levity.
Bahzell turned to look at him, ears cocked and eyebrows arched, and the Bloody Sword shrugged.
“Chesmirsa may have told me I’ll never be a bard, Bahzell, but I spent all those years studying every ballad, every lay, every epic poem I could get my hands on. And, with all due modesty, I think I’ve demonstrated that I’m a fair hand as a researcher. As soon as Tomanak warned you—warned all of us, really—about what’s out there, I knew what he was talking about. Did you think I didn’t?”
“No,” Bahzell admitted, and shook his head. “No, little man. I might be after wishing you hadn’t, but there was never the least tiniest chance you wouldn’t. But that’s not to say as how I’m eager to be seeing you in the midst of such as this.”
“I suppose that sort of thing happens to people foolish enough to hang about with champions of Tomanak,” Brandark replied lightly. Then he cocked his head, ears half-forward curiously. “All the same, I have to admit that I’m just a bit surprised that if it is Krahana—” a chill breeze seemed to blow across the verandah as the name was spoken at last “—she hasn’t already put in an appearance here. I’d think that for someone like her, this whole place—” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the manor house’s lamplit windows “— would be like one huge cookie jar she could hardly wait to get her claws into.
“Well, as to that,” Bahzell said, “it’s in my mind that it’s not so very likely she’s after being here herself. Or, at least, not that she’ll be feeling all that eager to draw himself into meeting her personally.” He smiled, a thin smile, remarkably devoid of humor. “Krahana isn’t after being the very smartest of the Dark Gods. She’s nowhere near the brain of Carnadosa, for example. But she’s not so stupid as some, and she’s seen what was after happening to Sharna when he crossed swords, in a ma
“I’ll not say she’s not after being willing to risk a bit of a confrontation, but it will be in her mind as how it will be on her terms, not Himself’s. So I’m thinking as how what we’re most likely to be after seeing will be her Servants. What you might be calling her ’champions.’ And they’re not so very likely to be attacking us here.”