Страница 84 из 102
Chapter Twenty-Nine
"Are you certain of your information?"
Sir Mathian Redhelm, Lord Warden of Glanharrow, leaned forward in his chair, and his hazel eyes were hard as he gazed at his "guest." Mathian was of only moderate height for his people, with shoulders whose narrowness his tailors tried manfully, if not with great success, to hide. He was young for a man in his position, having inherited the lordship of Glanharrow only seven years before after his father's unexpected death. He looked a great deal like the late Sir Gardian, and, like his sire, he had quickly established a reputation as a lord of great energy. But, also like his father, he was given to impulse and improvisation.
Most Sothōii were at least a little on the impulsive side, if the truth be known, but Sir Gardian had been more so than most. He'd been known for generosity and frequent acts of kindness, but also for having Fiendark's own temper. The punishments he levied on those brought before his judgment on his bad days had been legendary, and his tendency to make snap decisions would have brought anyone with less vigor quickly to ruin. But Gardian had always thrown himself body and soul into all he did, and his fierce energy and enthusiasm had allowed him to recover from most of his mistakes relatively unscathed. He'd wasted a tremendous amount of effort battering through problems a little forethought might have avoided along the way, but that had been his style.
And it had also been what killed him when he went galloping off after a party of hradani raiders with only six knights in attendance. In his defense, the hradani in question had made off with five of his prized studs and a dozen brood mares, and among the Sothōii horse lords thefts of that severity were not only a heavy economic loss but insults which could be washed out only by blood. Yet for all that, Gardian had been a seasoned warrior who should have known better than to let fury lure him into such a fatal mistake.
The fact that he hadn't had made Sir Mathian Lord Warden of Glanharrow at only nineteen years of age. That, unfortunately, was just old enough for him to assume his titles in his own name, without a regent to hold him in check, and he was his father all over again... but with far less experience. Worse, Sir Gardian's death had left him with a towering hatred for all hradani. Even he knew it was temper and lack of forethought which had led his father to his death, but if the accursed hradani hadn't raided Glanharrow's herds, none of that would have mattered. Sothōii distrust and hatred for hradani ran deep after centuries of mutual raiding and bursts of bitter, merciless war, but Mathian's burned hotter and much, much deeper than most. Things had been remarkably peaceful along the Escarpment for the past five or six years, but he didn't care, and he had quietly gathered quite a following among some of the other young knights.
All of which made his "guest" even more remarkable, for he was a hradani.
"And when have I been other than certain of anything before I was bringing it to you?" the hradani demanded, speaking Sothōii with a strong Hurgrumese accent. Had Mathian been more familiar with the differences between hradani clans he might have reflected that his guest was on the short side for a Horse Stealer. Not that it would have mattered to him. As far as he was concerned, all hradani were the same, and the world would be a far better place with none of them in it.
"No doubt," an older knight put in. "But I'm sure you can see why the accuracy—"
"Peace, Festian!" Mathian turned to glare impatiently at the older man, who clamped his jaw tight. Sir Festian Wrathson commanded Glanharrow's mounted scouts and skirmishers. He was also twice Mathian's age and more, and he'd seen more battlefields than Mathian had formal di
Mathian glared at him a moment longer, until he was certain Festian wouldn't interrupt again, and then turned back to the hradani.
"You were saying?"
"I was saying as how Bahnak will be after marching on Churnazh within the week," the hradani replied. "And he'll be taking all of his men with him, too, for whoever wins this one will end up lording it over all the clans."
Sir Festian didn't care at all for the glitter in the spy's eyes, but Mathian didn't seem to notice it. Perhaps that was because of the sudden fire blazing in his own eyes.
"I don't suppose you've brought any proof of this, have you?" he made himself ask, and the hradani hooted with derisive laughter.
"Oh, aye! I thought as how I'd just be bringing along a copy of Bahnak's secret dispatches so as to have something to lend his guardsmen for light reading when they caught me!"
Mathian's jowls flushed, but he only nodded. He gazed at the hradani for a moment longer, then raised one hand and flicked it at the door.
"My steward will pay you," he said curtly, and turned to stare into the fire hissing on the hearth.
The hradani gri
"What do you think?" he asked.
"I think the same as you," Haladhan replied. "This may be the last opportunity we'll have before it's too late!"
Haladhan's deep voice was even lower than usual, throbbing with passionate enthusiasm, and Festian hid a mental grimace. He had no doubt of the accuracy of Haladhan's first sentence. The young knight was Mathian's first cousin, but if he ever had two kormaks to rub together it would be the first time he did. He was far more handsome than his wealthy cousin, and much more muscular, but if Mathian had declared the sun would rise in the west tomorrow, Haladhan would have said the same thing... only louder. Which made it all the more unfortunate that Mathian had promoted Haladhan to the rank of Marshal of Glanharrow, his senior field commander.
"True. True... perhaps," Mathian murmured. He raised his right hand to rub his jaw, and the ruby signet of the Lord Wardens of Glanharrow flashed like blood in the candlelight. "But if it is an opportunity, it will have to be acted upon quickly," he mused.
"Milord," Festian began, "before we do anything, wouldn't it be wise to—"
"I'm thinking , Festian!" Mathian said, and the older knight clamped his jaw once more, wishing—not for the first time—that Sir Gardian hadn't gotten himself killed so idiotically. No one had ever accused Gardian of thinking things through, but at least he'd occasionally been known to listen to advice if someone shouted it loudly enough!
"How many men could we assemble?" Mathian went on after a moment, directing the question at Haladhan.
"I'm not certain," his cousin said. He scratched the tip of his nose. "I suppose it would depend on the condition of the roads. It's still a mess out there, especially—" he darted a sharp glance at Mathian "—north of Glanharrow."
"True enough," Mathian grunted. "We'll just have to see how many of the minor lords we can get messengers to."
"I think—" Haladhan began, but Festian interrupted him.
"Forgive me, Milord," he said very firmly, "but should I understand that you actually contemplate moving against the hradani on the basis of this spy's information?"
"And why should I not?" Mathian demanded, looking down his nose at the older knight.
Because we've had peace with them for over five years and you're about to change that, you young idiot! Festian thought. And just because you've been fortunate enough never to fight a real war against them doesn't mean that those of us who have fought them are looking forward to it! But he couldn't say that, of course.
"Milord, you are Lord Warden of Glanharrow," he said instead, "and I am your sworn man, as I was your father's. But this is a very serious step you contemplate. At the very least, you should discuss it with Sir Kelthys. And Baron Tellian must be informed."
"Of course I shall inform Baron Tellian!" Mathian said sharply. "But as you yourself say, I am Lord Warden here. As such, I have every right in the absence of direct orders from Baron Tellian to call up the levies of Glanharrow on my own authority in time of emergency, do I not?"
He glared at Festian, obviously waiting for an answer, and the older knight sighed.
"You are, and you do, Milord," he said. Of course, "emergency" is supposed to mean that someone else has launched an unprovoked attack upon you, you fool. But you do have the right... and I don't have the authority to forbid it.
"Good!" Mathian snorted, but then he went on in a slightly less sharp tone. "As for Sir Kelthys, however, you're quite right. Please dispatch a messenger to ask him to join us here as quickly as possible."
He nodded dismissal, and Festian rose, fighting another surge of anger. He was no page to be sent scurrying about on errands, and he suspected that one reason he was being dispatched was to let Mathian and Haladhan put their heads together unhampered by his presence. Yet there was no courteous way to avoid obeying, and so he only bowed sharply and left.
He stalked down the castle hall, and those he met took one look at his face and stepped quickly aside. He knew they were doing it, but he didn't really care—not when those two young idiots were bent on what could only lead to disaster. Mathian had spent his life paying far too much attention to ballads and not enough to serious history. His mind was full of ba
Sir Kelthys Lancebearer was a second cousin of Baron Tellian. Born a third son, he'd been a landless man, but one whose skill at arms—both in personal combat and as a strategist—had won great renown. He'd spent fifteen years commanding Sothōii cavalry forces attached to the Royal and Imperial Army, and he'd returned to the Kingdom a wealthy man. When Baron Tellian "suggested" Mathian bestow the manor of Deep Water upon Kelthys, the Lord Warden of Glanharrow had had little choice but to agree. And in fairness to the Baron, the transaction had worked out quite well.