In his own state of shock, Geros at first could not understand. Even so, he proved far easier to convince than either Tim or Giliahna.
Chapter XIX
Ahrkeethoheeks Bili, Thoheeks and chief of Morguhn, Vahrohnos Deskahti, Vahrohneeskos of the Order of the Golden Cat of the Confederation, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Blue Bear of Harzburk, was nothing if not stubborn and set in his ways. Not even the rising wrath of his supreme overlord, Milo of Morai, High Lord of the Confederation, not even the vicious temper of the High Lady, Aldora Linszee Treeah-Pohtohmahs Pahpahs, could persuade him to leave Morguhn before the harvests were all in, the archducal taxes collected and his personal affairs set in order.
To one of the Undying High Lady Aldora’s more violent outbursts, he had replied with a calmness that further infuriated her, “Aldora, I don’t want to go north and become Prince of Karaleenos, and you well know it. I only do so out of loyalty to the Confederation and willingness to serve it when and as called upon.
“But if go I must, then I’ll do it in my own way and at my own pace. There is much my son, Djef, must know if he is to be a good chief and thoheeks of our clan. I must be certain that all sits well in Vawn and that young Thoheeks Tahm Adaimyuhn of Sanderz is adjusting well to his new and heavier harness of duty. At the same time, I must attend the thousand and one small but important functions of my present office, entertain my distinguished guests… and often waste precious time soothing the temper tantrums of one of them.” The small, olive-skinned woman went livid and speechless v with frustration and rage. She snatched her long belt dagger free of its case and made to slash its keen edge at Bili’s maddeningly unruffled face. But suddenly she became aware of the huge, slavering hound, stalking in from the next room, stiff-legged, with tail tucked and lips wrinkled up from the bared foam-covered teeth. Whirling, she flexed her knees and held her blade ready for stab or slash.
“Quick, Bili,” she said calmly, her temper dissipated in the urgency of the moment, “get a spear. I’ll hold him here. He looks to be gone mad.”
But he moved not a muscle, he only chuckled and, in less than the blinking of an eye… the hound was gone!
Aldora spun about, shouting, “Damn you, Bili Morguhn! Ahrmehnee magic! How dare you do that to me! Do you forget who I am?” She lunged upward at his body with the long dagger.
Still chuckling, he lightly skipped from the path of the thrust and struck the hand wielding it hard enough that the weapon went clattering into a corner. Then the delicate-looking little woman went for his face with her nails, but he clasped his arms around her, easily immobilizing both arms, while his questing lips found hers, locked upon them and remained for a long, long time, before wandering downward to pay brief court to a flat, tiny ear, and then burying themselves in the hollow of her throat.
Much, much later, as both lay, tired and disheveled, upon a badly rumpled bed, Aldora’s fingers traced the scars on his smooth, fair-skinned body, recalling that she had done so thirty-odd years before when this same, marvelous man had been a boy… no, never a boy, not him, not Bili!…
She sighed and lay back down beside him, snuggling to the hard warmth of his body. “How old are you now, Bili?”
He turned his head to smile down into her upturned, heart-shaped face. “Nearly fifty summers, my love. Why? Does this old man displease you?”
She shivered with thought of the recent pleasure he had given her and briefly raised her mindshield that he might know and be forever answered. “Oh, Bili, Bili, my own Bili,” she murmured with intense feeling. “Why could it have not been you, rather than this half brother of yours?
“I had almost forgotten, you know? Had almost ceased to remember just how wonderful, how complete and perfect it has always been with you… and only with you.”
In another part of the archducal hall, Milo of Morai— once Undying God of the Horseclans, now Undying High Lord of the Confederation, by his own reckoning, at least eight hundred years old—sipped wine and chatted with the three newest-found of his rare, mutant strain.
The tests devised by him and by Aldora and administered under their constant supervision had shown positive results in all three cases. The ancient High Lord was inordinately pleased and showed it plainly.
“Giliahna, Neeka, you’ll both love the new capital, Theesispolis, and especially the palace there. My wife, Mara, designed it and oversaw every step of its construction. And, speaking of Mara, she’ll be more than overjoyed to see you. She and Aldora, they… well, Aldora is seldom happy or contented for long and she envies Mara so much that about twenty years ago she tried to drown her—that being one of the few ways our kind can be slain. Since then, the two have consistently and most wisely avoided being in the same city at the same time.
“I am, perforce, often in the western mountains on campaign and poor Mara grows lonely with only old Drehkos for company.” He took a long draft of the brandy-laced wine and clapped Tim Sanderz on the shoulder.
“As for you, Tim, you’re the incarnate answer to centuries of prayers. You enjoy campaigning and warfare. You’re good at it. You’re a natural leader and, moreover, you’re an experienced commander of organized troops, so presumably a good tactician. If you prove out as a strategist, as well, I may finally be able to get a few years of rest.
“With Drehkos to govern the settled lands—something he’s quite skilled at—and you to command the armies and the frontier, Mara and I might go away for a while. We might sail out to the Islands or even clear across the Eastern Sea to the lands beyond—Ehspahneeah, Gahleeah or even Pahl’yos Ehlahs—it’s been centuries since either of us has seen those lands, or even been much beyond the borders of our own.”
Tim’s blue eyes were wide with amazement. “But… you mean you’d trust me with your entire military establishment, my lord Milo?”
“Tim, you’d better start remembering to call me Milo and comport yourself as the equal, the peer, that you all truly are.
With luck, we’ll have many centuries together, and even a single hundred years is a hellishly long time for one man to defer to another.
“Yes, I’ll trust you with the armies… when you’ve proved you can handle them properly, win victories without too high a butcher’s bill, think for yourself, yet have the good sense to know when to accept and defer to the advice of your staff. But that will be five or ten years from now, Tim.
“Immediately we all go back to the old capital, Kehnooryos Atheenahs, for the winter, you three will enter the Confederation Mindspeak Academy and well then learn just what active and latent talents you each possess. But you’ll not only be studied, you’ll be taught, as well.
“You’ll learn the many different levels of mental communication, and how to speak on two or three at the same time. You’ll be taught how to get around or through closed mind-shields and, if you own the innate ability, how to do it without the shielded mind even knowing it. You’ll be taught to farspeak, and your range—with and without the added power of other minds—will be meticulously measured and recorded.
“You may—one or two of you, anyway—learn to far-gather, though I confess we’ve had precious little success in teaching that highly esoteric skill. Those who have been able to learn already possessed the rudiments. The Academy simply honed an existing edge, as it were.”
Neeka shook her head slowly, then asked, “Lord, what is this fargather? I’ve never heard the term.”
After long years with the arrogant, outspoken, bull-headed and often violent Aldora; with his loving but self-assured and frequently argumentative wife, the Undying High Lady Mara, Milo had felt instantly attracted to this quiet, humble and unassuming, basically gentle, raven-haired beauty. Though they two had been sharing a suite and a bed for some weeks, her public manner toward him remained one of humility and deep respect. He was becoming more and more fond of her and was seriously considering marriage to her after a few years, if Mara approved.
“Fargathering, Neeka, is the rare ability to mentally detect danger at distances and through many barriers. It is most applicable to soldiering and warfare and most useful therein. In the century or so of the Academy, the number of actual occurrences, either natural or induced, of real strength in its use has been pitifully small. All of those, saving only one, have been men.