“Hwahltuh himself suspected that much of his progressive illness was due to some machination of Mehleena and her tongue-sister, the witchwoman. Since his death, she’s discharged most of the Freefighters, along with many of the Kindred and Ahrmehnee retainers, replacing them with a carefully chosen pack of crafty, sneaking Ehleenee. Another thing you and the High Lord should know is that she has brought in one of those fanatic hedge priests, one of the gelded ones. He lives in the hall as a noble and honored guest, I’m told.”
“And so?” she demanded. “Are you going soft, Bili? You know those black-robed troublemakers are proscribed throughout the Confederation. Why haven’t you and your kahtahfrahktoee just ridden over to Vawn and introduced that priest’s unwashed arse to a sharp stake? Such is your right, nay, your duty as ahrkeethoheeks. Milo would say the same, and you know it.”
“The idea has crossed my mind more than once, Aldora. You know how I feel about Ehleen priests… and most Ehleenee, for that matter; I’d dearly love to impale the fat bastard, Mehleena and all her crew, as well, but that damned, chuckleheaded Zenos stands in the way.”
“Prince Zenos of Karaleenos, sixteenth of that name,” Aldora beamed. “I warned Milo and Mara and Drehkos not to confirm him prince. He is the diseased and decaying branch of a once-great tree. The last true king of Karaleenos, dear, old Zenos XII, would never have owned him as his, and Zenos XI would likely have had so poor a specimen drowned shortly after birth. He has then forbidden you to deal simple justice to this illegal cleric?”
“No,” answered Bili. “Not in so many words, not directly. But when I took up the matter of the priest with him last spring at the Year Council, he brought up the fact that Mehleena is his first cousin and, as such, the descendant of kings, as is he.”
“Hens’ ballocks!” beamed Aldora. “So, too, am I, so is Mara. So, likely, are most of the non-Kindred folk in this Confederation, if the lines were traced back far enough. But a royal pedigree cannot be considered a license for lawbreaking. I’m going to communicate all this to the others before I take horse for the west. Either Mara or Drehkos can care for things here in the capital, and the other can ride down to Zenos’ seat and remind him of a few facts. Before all be done, you may be Prince of Karaleenos, as I said you should have been when Zenos’ sire died.”
“Dammit, Aldora, I don’t want to be a prince, any more than I wanted to be an archduke; I was very happy simply as thoheeks and chief of Morguhn, and you know it.”
“Nor do I want to be a High Lady of the Confederation; could I, I’d ride far west, to the Sea of Grass, and find a clan of the Kindred. But I cannot, I have responsibilities which shape my life. So do you, lord ahrkeethoheeks. You have responsibilities—to your sovrans, to the Confederation, to all the law-abiding folk of that Confederation and to your Kindred. A prince who would not need to be reminded to rule by law rather than to allow himself and his judgments to be swayed by ties of house or kinship would be of great value to all. Zenos—Wind take his wormy guts!—has never been such a prince; you would be, it’s that simple.
“But that matter aside. I charge you, in Milo’s name, to take whatever actions you deem necessary until he and I can reach Vawn, and Zenos’ likes and dislikes be damned.”
Arising from his bed, Bili of Morguhn took his famous axe down from its wall hooks and commenced replacing the rawhide-and-wire grip on the steel shaft, absently humming through his wolf-grim smile a song that had been popular during his war years in the Middle Kingdoms.
“Death rides all in plate and His tall horse is black. He leads every charge and His bowstring’s never slack. He stalks ev’ry camp and He rides ev’ry raid. His steel harvests warrior and merchant and maid. Death rides a coal-black horse, and we are sworn to His service. A Freefighter rides for Blood and Death.”
Myron had been assisted from the room, still gasping, gurgling and dry-retching in his misery, his fine clothing fouled with vomit, his flushed face streaked with sweat and tears and most of his weight borne by Gaios and a husky servingman. His mother proffered no word of apology for her sudden attack, rather she called for another big bowl of buttered-and-honeyed porridge and for another ewer of chilled wine. In ominous silence, she shoveled down porridge and swilled wine, her movements jerky with undischarged rage. The other children cowered at their end of the high table, silent and wide-eyed with fright. The priest sat petrified, the stains of her earlier outburst drying on his robes. Only Neeka continued to consume her food in a normal fashion—the “mistress” knew better than to attack her.
When she had finished the last of her vegetable broth, yogurt, boiled eggs and cucumbers, Neeka sank back in the chair, sipped slowly at the watered, resinous wine and thought about blind Ahl’s sudden comment that Mehleena would henceforth be forbidden use of the Master’s Chair; then she closed her eyes and sent her powerful, self-trained mind questing, seeking through the hall and every mind in it What she found gave her such a start that she almost dropped her goblet. Her features suddenly drawn and pale as whey, she turned and touched Mehleena’s blubbery arm.
“We must speak privately—and very soon. That which we least expected is come to pass, but if we move quickly enough, we still may win the day.”
A wall panel near the head of Giliahna’s bed swung silently open on well-greased hinges and Mairee Lahvoheetos stepped out, followed by Ahl Sanderz. There was but the barest scraping of Ahl’s felt boot against the frame of the secret door, yet before the two had advanced more than two paces into the bedchamber, Tim had spun out of the bed in a whirl of motion and stood confronting them, nude, but armed with both bared sword and dirk. Giliahna still crouched upon the well-used bed, but from some hidden recess she had drawn and now grasped a wavy-bladed Zahrtohgahn dagger.
Teeth showing in a sardonic smile, Ahl clapped his hands softly, saying, “Very good, brother Tim, sister Giliahna, for all that I deliberately provided a bit of noise for warning; I think me that perhaps a murder-minded Ehleen or three would not have been so considerate. Before we do or say anything else, both of you raise your mindshields, and keep them up. The mind of Mehleena’s pet witch is nearly as powerful as mine or Bili’s, though in different ways. Too, there’s another exceptionally powerful mind in this hall. It’s been here for some years, but I’ve never been able to contact it directly. Not knowing for certain that it is for us, we had best consider it to be against us. So do not mindspeak anything of import until this affair be sorted out and this hall cleared of our enemies.”
Tim sank onto the bed and, as he resheathed his broadsword and dirk, said, with a grin, “I think my heart almost stopped when you two came through that damned panel, brother. Who’s out to do me in, anyhow—you or Mehleena?”
The blind man did not return the smile. “Were it me, Tim, you’d never have survived your bath. You’ve been exceedingly careless since you rode in this morning. Didn’t Bili make it clear that your life hangs on a frayed thread in this hall?
“These foes have already slain two of our brothers and our father—I believe that as surely as nits make lice, they’re immediately responsible for all three deaths, and for the loss of my sight, as well. They drugged Father and maneuvered the poor old man into banishing both of you, which we all know he never would have done in his right mind. Mehleena was certain you were dead, Tim. Now that you are returned and stand between her and her nefarious designs on this duchy, you can be damned sure that she’ll not stick at one more murder.”
Again, Tim showed his teeth. “Then the fat bitch had better do it within the next couple of hours, dear brother, for at the same time I left Morguhn Hall, so did gallopers from brother Bili. They bore archducal orders that the Kindred electors of Vawn-Sanderz arrive at this hall no later than the second hour after the nooning. Yes the Ehleen sow would gleefully slay me, but would she dare do in most of the nobility of this duchy? I think not, for she’d have Bili down on her in a trice and her kinship with Prince Zenos would be of no help to her—and she knows this.