Antiagon Fire

38

Neither Quaeryt nor Vaelora said anything as they rode down from the council building under a sky that held a haze more like autumn than winter, although the wind was definitely on the chill side. Once they were on the avenue toward the bridge, Quaeryt directed Zhelan to take a detour through all the main streets of Saendeol, beginning with the square on the east side of the river and weaving back and forth.

“Is this so that the locals can see us?” murmured Vaelora.

“One reason. I also want to see their reaction.” And whether there are any statues of paintings of people anywhere around.

After crossing the bridge, first company rode through the main square, immediately adjacent to the east side of the bridge, with half the square to the north of the avenue and the other half to the south. There, the few handfuls of local inhabitants frequenting the carts and vendors, of which there were less than a score, were largely gray-haired and older and looked at the Telaryn riders almost incuriously, although a few children were far more interested, but only when the adults around weren’t looking at them.

Once they had ridden through both sides of the square, Zhelan led the company north on the street closest to the Vohan River, only so far as the shops extended, then south on the street east of the first. The tour of the shop areas of Saendeol took little more than a glass before they were headed north out of the small city. Quaeryt still saw no depictions of humans in any form, and while he overheard occasional comments, all were in Pharsi. He hoped that Lhandor and Khalis were listening and could remember most of what they overheard.

As they rode through the stone pillars to the compound, Quaeryt turned in the saddle. “You’re looking pale. You need something to eat and drink. Go inside. I’m going to talk to Zhelan and the undercaptains. Then I’ll be back and join you.”

“Take whatever time you need.”

“It shouldn’t be that long.”

Quaeryt and Vaelora eased away from the company and reined up before the main dwelling, where she dismounted and handed her mount’s reins to him. Quaeryt watched until she was inside, then led her mare back toward the stables.

Once he’d dismounted and unsaddled the black gelding, he summoned the two Pharsi undercaptains, and the three of them walked ten yards from the stable doors before he stopped.

“Did either of you hear or see anything out of the usual?”

“One man said something about all of us being gone in a month,” offered Lhandor.

“Another argued with him,” added Khalis. “I didn’t hear it all, but it was about the fact that Bhayar was part Pharsi and he had a Pharsi commander, and that meant trouble.”

“Anything else?”

“A lot of muttering about our riding around.” Khalis laughed.

“… one fellow said you could tell there weren’t many real Pharsi in the company, because they didn’t ride that well.” Lhandor looked sheepish. “So I told him there were more than he thought.”

“Did he say anything to that?” asked Quaeryt.

“Something about outland Pharsi not counting.”

“That figures. Did you reply to that?”

“I couldn’t, sir. We’d already ridden too far past him.”

“That was probably for the best,” Quaeryt said wryly. “Did either of you see any statues or paintings of people?”

Both undercaptains shook their heads.

By the time Quaeryt finished with the two, Zhelan was waiting by the stable door, trying to conceal a certain irritation, Quaeryt suspected.

“I’m sorry, Major. Lhandor and Khalis are the only officers I have who speak fluent Pharsi, and I wanted to hear if they’d overheard anything before they had a chance to forget.”

Zhelan’s face relaxed. “Worried they’d done something wrong.”

“No. Now … things are going to get strange tomorrow.” Quaeryt went on to explain what the High Council had requested.

“They want you two to do that just to keep talking?”

“I’d prefer that to fighting another war.”

“Still … doesn’t seem right, sir. Especially for Lady Vaelora.”

“She issued her own challenge to their High Council. So we’re both in this together. The head councilor said we could take as many troopers as we wished, but I think we’d make a better impression with only two squads, and the undercaptains. Like it or not, this is going to be about impressions as much as numbers. Which squads would you recommend?”

“Right now, sir, second and fourth squads.”

“Then second and fourth squads it is.”

After going over the remainder of arrangements for Solayi with Zhelan, Quaeryt walked back to the main dwelling, where Vaelora was waiting in the parlor for him.

“There’s a drink for you on the table.”

Quaeryt looked at the crystal beaker, filled with a pale orange liquid. “What is it?”

“It’s not bad. Try it.”

While he wasn’t sure about anything that shade of orange, Quaeryt settled into the armchair across from Vaelora and gingerly picked up the beaker, taking a small sip. As Vaelora had said, it wasn’t bad, although the closest description Quaeryt could come up with was that the beverage was a cross between brandy and apricot beer. After another sip, Quaeryt looked to Vaelora. “You’re still a little tired, aren’t you?”

She nodded, setting the pale orange drink on a small table beside her.

“I thought you might be after what you did. I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“Ask me what?”

“What you did before the Council.”

“At the end? I don’t know. Not exactly. Except it was almost like farsight … where I could see the dead and dying everywhere, all because those stupid old women couldn’t see what was going to happen…”

“But they saw it, too.”

“You didn’t, did you?”

“No … but I felt it,” he admitted.

“Good. I’m glad you didn’t see what I saw.” She shivered. “It was horrible.”

“I’ve seen worse,” he said quietly. “I’ve caused worse, I suspect. Or things equally bad.”

“I know you have. That’s why you didn’t need to see it.”

Quaeryt closed his mouth. He hadn’t thought of it in that way.

“You have enough to worry about,” Vaelora said. “We have to find a way to get the High Council to agree to some sort of terms.”

“They don’t seem terribly inclined to want to talk, at least not until we face whatever sort of trial they have in mind.”

“The Eleni … is she some sort of imager?”

“She may be … or she may be able to project visions, the way you did. Or something else entirely.”

“They can’t be that powerful … or Kharst couldn’t have conquered Khel.”

“I’m beginning to think he didn’t-just the larger towns and cities and the ports. That’s why we need to work out something with them. Bhayar doesn’t need to be in that situation.”

“Neither do we,” replied Vaelora.

“Except we already are.”

“You’ll figure out a way.”

“We will,” he affirmed. Even if you don’t have the faintest idea how you’re going to do it, let alone whether the High Council is willing to be reasonable. The Pharsi weren’t always known for that. Certainly, many wouldn’t have thought what Quaeryt had in mind for all the imagers of Lydar was at all reasonable.

He smiled and tried another sip from the beaker.