The Lion of Farside by John Dalmas

Macurdy shrugged, then summarized her odyssey from escaping the Cloister to arriving at Aaeroth Manor. “And when Cyncaidh got her home—he told me this—he and his wife, who was far gone in decline and died soon afterward, worked on her until she agreed to marry him. Told her she didn’t have a chance of ever getting to me again. He said they lied to her to break her down. Exaggerated is the word he used.”

Neither man said anything more for a minute, then Wollerda asked another question. “You wrote that Quaie was dead, that you killed him yourself. How did that happen?”

Macurdy told him. Wollerda stared. “A ball of fire? That’s a magic I never heard of before.” He shook his head. “But you’ve got something beyond magic, Macurdy: beyond it and more important. You’ve got a knack for doing and saying the right thing. Or maybe that’s magic. Anyway, Liiset reported to the Dynast that you’d killed Quaie, and—” Wollerda got up and went to a side table—“she sent you a letter we’re both curious about.

Wollerda gave a wax-sealed envelope to Macurdy, who opened it with his dagger and removed the letter. It was brief, and when he’d finished reading, he looked at Wollerda. “She wants me to visit the Cloister. She has an important position for me, if I’m interested.”

“Are you?”

Macurdy shook his head. “Nope. I can’t even imagine what she might offer.”

“It could be better than I can offer,” Wollerda pointed out. “In some respects, anyway. You’d have more influence from there than from here.”

“There’s only one Sister I ever wanted to be around, and that’s over now. There are other Sisters I like, since I’ve gotten to know them. Liiset of course. And Omara, who was in charge of the sorcery unit with the army. She did a lot of good; among other things she saved Melody’s life. And I got along with Sarkia all right, when we were negotiating. But . . .” He shrugged again. “Sarkia’s too cold-blooded for me. And the things she had done to Varia—if I’d known about them earlier, I’d have killed her.” He exhaled audibly. “I’ll send her a message; tell her I plan to stay in Tekalos, to farm and have children.”

“Maybe things will change in the Sisterhood,” Wollerda said thoughtfully. “When someone else takes over.”

Macurdy, seeing the aura as well as the man, looked sharply at him. “What haven’t you told me?”

Wollerda shrugged. “Liiset doesn’t often say what’s in the messages she gets from the Cloister, but . . . Two weeks ago, when she read one, she got a strange look. And didn’t put the letter away as she usually does—as if she intended to read it again first. Then I had a chance and read it myself. Sarkia asked who she’d recommend as the new Dynast, when the time came that one was needed. Asked for four names, and who she’d recommend not be considered.

“Later on she said to me, ‘You read my message from the Dynast, didn’t you?’ and I admitted it of course.” He looked meaningfully at Macurdy. “I asked Liiset once who she thought would eventually replace Sarkia, and she said that was one thing Sarkia never talked about. So. What caused her to think about it now?” Wollerda paused as if to stress what he said next. “Then, after her last weekly message, Liiset reminded me of that. And said, ‘The Dynast has gone into seclusion. She’s at the Cloister, but staying in her suite.’ ” He shrugged. “Looks as if time has finally caught up with her.”

Macurdy nodded thoughtfully. “Who did Liiset recommend, do you know?”

Wollerda shook his head. “I’ll ask her at supper. She might even tell us.”

At supper, Macurdy got a pretty good idea how Wollerda had gained weight; this wasn’t the simple fare he’d eaten as a commander of rebels. When they’d finished, a light wine was served. Macurdy drank buttermilk, instead, and they talked of his plans to farm. He had in mind to try certain Indiana practices in Teklan conditions.

“I had the idea you wanted to be ambassador to the empire,” Wollerda said.

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