Страница 81 из 102
Chapter Twenty-Eight
"And I'm after telling you that it won't work!"
Hurthang Tharakson slammed a massive fist on the table and glared at his cousin. Other conversations paused as the tankards on the table danced and clattered, and the other members of the chapter broke off their own discussions and turned to watch Hurthang and Bahzell match glares. They sat across from each other in the main hall of the Hurgrum chapter's new chapter house, and their expressions were not cheerful.
"And a useless thing it is to be telling me it won't, too, and no mistake," Bahzell rumbled back in only slightly milder tones. "There's too much Horse Stealer and not enough Tomanāk in your head yet, Hurthang! It's not a matter of will it or won't it, but how best to be making it work!"
"You're daft, man! Stark, staring mad! You're talking Bloody Swords—and Raven Talons to boot!" Hurthang snapped, then had the grace to look embarrassed. He glanced around the big room quickly and heaved a sigh of relief. None of the novice members were present, and Prince Bahnak had asked Brandark to join him to discuss Marglyth's spies' latest information from Navahk. Which was undoubtedly just as well, he reflected, only to have his attention drawn back to Bahzell as his cousin snorted magnificently.
"Fiendark seize me, but the man's been after figuring out a part of it, anyway! Aye, it is Bloody Swords I'm talking of right enough, you rock-pated lump of gristle, and not just Raven Talons! There's Dire Claws and Stone Daggers—aye, and Bone Fists, too! And if you're thinking I'm daft, then I can't but wonder where you'd left those hairy ears of yours when himself was amongst us!"
Hurthang glowered. Bahzell's last sentence had hit home, but it was clear he didn't want it to have, and he was Bahzell's cousin, with a determination to match. He gathered himself once more, shoulders hunching, and leaned forward into the argument once more.
"But—" he began, only to be cut off by a mild tenor.
"You're not going to win, Hurthang," it remarked, and he turned his head sharply. Vaijon gave him a crooked smile and shrugged. "You're a stubborn man, but not as stubborn as Bahzell," Tomanāk's newest champion told him. "No one else is that hardheaded. Besides, this time he's right. The Order must be open to any who feel the call to serve the War God... wherever they come from."
"But—" Hurthang tried again, and Vaijon laughed.
"Give it up," he advised, not unkindly. His Hurgrumese had gotten much better, but he still had to revert to Axeman to make his points most clearly, and here and there other members of the fledgling chapter leaned towards friends to translate.
"Trust me," he went on, "it'll be easier that way. Tomanāk has a way of making His points, especially to people who only continue to argue out of sheer bloody-mindedness. And the stubborner you get, the more... interesting the lesson is when it finally arrives. Believe me, I speak from painful personal experience. You can't possibly be more upset by this than I was at the notion of accepting any hradani as a member of the Order, and look where I wound up!"
He waved a hand at the hall about them, and a rumble of laughter answered the gesture. Hurthang glowered at him for another instant, but the wicked smile Vaijon gave him was too much to resist, and his own lips quirked as the worst of his fury faded.
"Aye, well, it's all very well to be making us laugh, Vaijon," he said much more calmly, "but you've yet to answer my worries. I've no doubt at all, at all, that Himself means for us to be doing just as you say—aye, and Bahzell, too, even if he is stubborn as a pasture full of mules! But there's a war coming, and it's coming on fast. And whatever you may be thinking, or me—or even Bahzell!—there no way to be knowing as how everyone as says he's been called by the Sword God truly has. D'you think for a moment the likes of Churnazh or Halâshu would be turning up their noses at the thought of slipping their spies inside Uncle Bahnak's court by pretending to join the Order?"
"I don't know," Vaijon admitted. He walked across to sit at the same table, and Bahzell leaned back comfortably, content to leave the main burden of the argument to the human. "Of course, right this minute I don't believe we're talking about any 'spies,' either," Vaijon went on thoughtfully, lifting the beer pitcher to pour a mug of his own. "You've met all of the Bloody Sword recruits, Hurthang. D'you think any of them are lying about their desire to join the Order?"
"As to that, no," Hurthang admitted grudgingly. "But they're naught but the first wave, I'm thinking. Aye, and we've not let any of 'em swear Sword Oath, yet, either."
Vaijon shook his head, conceding the point. Of course, they hadn't yet sworn any of the other Horse Stealer recruits to full membership in the Order, either. Irregular as Bahzell's attitude towards rules might be in most respects, he was determined to get the Hurgrum chapter properly organized. In part, Vaijon suspected, that was because he expected it to be greeted with profound reservations, even by its sister chapters (when they discovered its existence), and so he wanted to be certain every procedural concern had been covered. More importantly, however, he was determined to be as certain as possible that all of its members had true vocations for the Order, and so he had insisted each new member must serve a minimum of a three-month novice period before he—or she—would be permitted to swear Sword Oath and become a probationer of the Order.
Unfortunately, that same delay had given some of the original Horse Stealer members—particularly Gharnal—time for some of the awe of Tomanāk's visitation to work its way through their system. It wasn't that they felt any less reverence, but as they got further away in time from the direct impact of His presence, the old Horse Stealer-Bloody Sword rivalry had reasserted itself. In less than two months, the first Bloody Sword recruits would have completed their novitiates and be eligible to swear Sword Oath, and Hurthang wasn't the only Horse Stealer who worried about what would happen then.
"No, we haven't let them swear Sword Oath." Vaijon spoke evenly, holding Hurthang's eyes with his own. "But I was under the impression that that was to give them time to be certain of their vocations, not as a way to show our distrust of them."
Hurthang flushed darkly, and his ears folded halfway down against his skull. He opened his mouth quickly, then shut it again and grabbed up his beer, instead. He took a long, deep pull, and Vaijon went on in a more soothing tone.
"It's not that I don't understand your concerns, Hurthang. I do. But Bahzell is right about who the Order must accept, and I'd be inclined to think anyone would hesitate to offer Sword Oath if they meant to break it, given that Tomanāk appeared in person to acknowledge us as His own. I mean, Halâshu, at least, knows that's exactly what happened, and if he's managed to convince Churnazh of the truth, then I'd think neither of them would want to risk angering the God. They've got enough problems already, the way this war is shaping up, without turning His favor against them. And whatever they might want, I'd think finding someone who would come here at their orders and personally foreswear himself would be even harder."
"Umph." It was Hurthang's turn to lean back, and he rubbed his jaw. "Aye," he admitted at last, grudgingly, "it could be there's something in that. Tomanāk knows you're like as not right about Halâshu, any road. But Churnazh, now... Churnazh is after being another pot of stew. He's one as might just decide he's in so deep he's naught to worry about in making it deeper, if you take my meaning."
"So I've gathered; that's why I said I didn't know what he might do." Vaijon sipped beer, then lowered the mug and looked Hurthang in the eye once more. "But I do know it's awfully hard to lie to a champion of Tomanāk... and that I wouldn't want to be the one who swore Sword Oath falsely!"
A rustle of agreement ran around the hall, and Hurthang's ears cocked. He darted a glance at Bahzell, but Bahzell only smiled and flicked the fingers of a raised hand at Vaijon, explicitly resigning the conversation to him. Hurthang's eyes narrowed, but then he nodded slightly. Ever since Tomanāk had taken Vaijon's oath, Bahzell had persistently if unobtrusively thrown the young man deeper and deeper into the organization of the new chapter. And it was taking some throwing, Hurthang reflected. The fact that all of its original members had actually seen their deity accept Vaijon's champion's oath lent his opinions a weight he himself had not yet recognized, but it was obvious he was uncomfortable at putting himself forward. Not unsure about his responsibilities or his own relationship to Tomanāk , but cautious lest anyone think he was taking too much upon himself—especially as one of the only two humans in Hurgrum.
"So you're saying we should be having them swear Sword Oath as soon as ever they ask to join us here?" Hurthang asked finally.
"No. Bahzell's right about that, too, especially since this is the first hradani chapter. Any recruits have to be given time to train with us and see all that's involved—and be certain of their own minds—before they make binding commitments. But I think we'd certainly be justified in asking them to state all of their reasons for coming here before the chapter's full brethren... and under oath of truth to Tomanāk ."
"Oath to Tomanāk , is it?" Hurthang murmured, and it was his turn to smile crookedly. Even those with the least use for the Gods of Light hesitated to swear falsely by Tomanāk's name. The War God didn't like people who did that, and rumor credited him with a tendency to let them get killed the next time the opportunity arose.
"That's not such a bad idea at all, Hurthang," Bahzell put in after a moment. "Though it might be best all 'round if it wasn't me as took their oaths." Hurthang looked at him, and he shrugged. "Come what may, I'm still Father's son, and if it should happen as we did have someone Churnazh wanted put in amongst us as a spy, why, I've no doubt at all he'd feel all over justified lying to me about it, oath or no."
"I suppose," Hurthang grumbled, and then turned a baleful look back on Vaijon. "Bahzell's the right of it there," he told the young human. "Say what we will, there's some as would never believe we weren't after being Uncle Bahnak's men if Bahzell were taking their oaths. But that means it would have to be you."