War Maid's choice wg-4

by David Weber

  If he became too obviously active in his father’s open efforts to influence the Council, however, it might become difficult to convince their enemies he wasn’t involved in all of Cassan’s plots and machinations…including the ones which were far from open. Of course, if the honesty and integrity of the accursed magi could actually be trusted, they’d be able to testify that Seralk wasn’t, although people being people, it was unlikely those enemies of Cassan’s would be willing to take the magi’s word for it.

  The baron’s inward frown deepened, although no one could have suspected that from his merely thoughtful expression.

  Despite his concerns about Seralk’s youthful impetuosity, he knew the young man was far from a fool. It was unlikely he’d press too hard or do anything outstandingly foolish, but he did represent the succession. As long as he personally wasn’t associated with any plots some pettifogging law master might consider illegal, the House of Axehammer’s ultimate position was secure. No king was going to attaint the heir of one of the Kingdom’s barons for treason unless he could prove conclusively to all of his other barons and lords warden that the heir in question had truly been guilty. Not unless he actually wanted to bring about a fresh Time of Troubles. Still…

  “That might not be so very bad an idea at that, despite who had it,” he said finally. “I know you’re going to be out drinking and carousing with them anyway, so we might as well get some good out of all the money you’ll be wasting on beer and ale.”

  “I’ll try to stay sober, or at least to avoid sliding down under the table until I’ve pumped their drink-addled minds clean, Father,” his son promised with a gleam in his eye.

  “Good. And considering the fact that you’ve inherited my hard head where drink is concerned, you’ll probably even succeed…mostly. But”-Cassan’s teasing tone sobered-“remember not to be too obvious about it.” The baron raised one hand. “I trust you not to be heavy-handed, Seralk, but there are going to be a lot of eyes on you, including quite a few I’m sure you’ll never see. Given how…difficult things have been at court for the last few years, we don’t want to give any of Tellian’s friends something they could use to suggest you’re trying to actively oppose the King on this. Disagreement with Macebearer’s or Shaftmaster’s advice to the Crown is one thing, and no one could expect anyone of our house not to be in active opposition to Tellian of Balthar, but any suggestion of opposition to the King could hurt our position in Sothofalas badly. Especially if any of those friends of Tellian could manage to convince him we were planning anything more…forceful than arguing against those mistaken advisors of his within the Council.”

  “I understand, Father,” Seralk said seriously, “but you’ve always said being forewarned is the first step in being forearmed.”

  “That’s because I’m a wise and insightful sort of fellow,” his father informed him with another smile. “And it probably wouldn’t hurt anything for you to agree with any of your fellow young hellions if they have anything less than flattering to say about Tellian or that bastard Bahzell.” The smile turned into a grimace. “And it’s fine for you to steer the exchange so they say as many unflattering things as possible, as long as you can do it without being obvious. Just be sure someone else starts the exchange. You need to bolster that reputation of yours for being the exact opposite of a hothead, especially since that…unfinished business with Trianal last year.” Cassan gave him a moderately stern look. “I understand the provocation, but sticking two or three feet of steel through someone isn’t always the most discreet possible way to remove the problem. Especially if you break the King’s Peace in the process.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  Seralk inclined his head in a respectful nod, then finished his cup of chocolate and set it back on the table empty.

  “And now, Father, if I may be excused, I have to finish packing if I want to get out of here before lunch.”

  “Of course you’re excused.” Cassan made a shooing gesture with both hands, and Seralk laughed as he pushed back his chair. “Just don’t forget to tell your mother goodbye!”

  “Oh, I’m far too smart to do anything that stupid!” Seralk informed him, then gave him a more formal bow before he straightened, gave Shairnayith a smile, and headed purposefully out of the dining room.

  “He’ll do fine, Father,” Shairnayith said, and Cassan raised an eyebrow at her. Unlike Cassan’s younger daughter, Lynaya, who was virtually a female duplicate of her father, Shairnayith had her mother’s brown eyes, dark hair, and petite stature. Outward appearances aside, however, she was much more like Cassan where it counted, and now those brown eyes regarded him thoughtfully. “Of course, I have to wonder exactly what it was you weren’t telling him about.”

  “Not telling him about?” Cassan asked innocently.

  “Father, I’ve never known you when you didn’t have at least a dozen irons in the fire at the same moment, but you’ve been remarkably…quiescent in the last year or so. Since I happen to know you’re not at all happy with what’s been happening in Sothofalas, that suggests you’re keeping some of those irons of yours carefully out of sight. That discussion we had about Thorandas Daggeraxe suggests exactly the same thing to me. And the fact that you’re not discussing any of those irons with Seralk before you send him off to Sothofalas suggests you’re deliberately keeping him clear of them. I, on the other hand, am merely a daughter. As such, there’s no reason I shouldn’t give my imagination free rein trying to ferret out what it might be you’re not discussing with him. Especially”-her brown eyes looked directly into his gray gaze-“given how directly they’re likely to affect my own life.”

  Cassan’s expression sobered. He looked back at her for several seconds, then inhaled deeply and nodded.

  “You’re right,” he acknowledged. “At the same time, I know you’ll understand there are many things going on right now that I can’t discuss with you or anyone.”

  “Of course I do,” she said quietly. “I know exactly the stakes you’re playing for, Father. I don’t need to know all the details of how you plan to play the game, and I understand the reasons for holding your cards close to your tunic. I even understand that not telling me everything is one way of protecting me…exactly as you’re doing with Seralk. But I hope you understand why I want to know anything you can and want to tell me. You’re my father, and I love you. Even if it weren’t my responsibility to do whatever I can in our house’s service, my own heart would command me to assist you and your plans any way I can.”

  “I know,” he said quietly, reaching across the table to cover one of her hands with his. He squeezed it gently, and felt the same pang at the heart of him that he’d felt the very first time he considered the information Talthar had brought back from Halthan.

  He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t already been aware of Thorandas Daggeraxe’s interest in Shairnayith’s hand. And it was indisputable that Shairnayith, at twenty-four, ought to have been married years before. Yet she was the daughter and child of his heart. More than that, of all three of his children, she-more even than Seralk-understood the intricate, complex, sometimes deadly nature of the unending contest between the Kingdom’s great houses. There were times when he wished she, not Seralk, might have been his heir. The very idea was impossible, of course, and Shairnayith would probably have been vehemently opposed to it even if it hadn’t been. She was nothing at all like Tellian’s depraved, debased daughter, thank all the gods! The very thought of the most nobly born of Sothoii noblewomen actually coupling with one of those hradani animals was enough to make Cassan spew. If anything in the world had been wanting to confirm the weakness, corruption, and degeneracy of the entire House of Bowmaster, Talthar’s information that Leeana “Hanathafressa” had deliberately set out to bring a hradani to her bed would have provided it! Better- far better! — that she should have coupled with one of Tellian’s wolfhounds! That sort of insult to all Sothoii could be washed away only in blood, and one way or another, Cassan of Frahmahn would see
that blood spilled. But unlike Tellian, he knew he would never have to blush for his daughter’s conduct, whatever else happened, and he felt a fresh flood of warmth as he looked at her.

  Yet that very warmth explained why he’d taken no action for so long where Thorandas’ indirectly expressed interest in her was concerned. He didn’t want to give her up, didn’t want her to move away from him. The long, weary leagues between Toramos and Halthan would separate them, take away that closeness forever, and the very thought was enough to fill him with gloom. None of which meant he wasn’t going to have to do it anyway. That was what he’d discussed with her earlier that week.

  “The truth is,” he told her now, releasing her hand and sitting back in his chair, “that several things are coming together at this moment. I have…reason to believe Tellian’s actions are inspiring opposition from outside the Kingdom, as well as in. I know I don’t have to explain to you why the Purple Lords and the River Brigands would both be opposed to this insane plan of his, and I’m afraid my sources indicate some of them are seriously contemplating some sort of…direct action here in the Kingdom in an effort to make certain it comes to nothing in the end.”

  Shairnayith nodded seriously. She probably suspected-no, she almost certainly suspected-that he was carefully tailoring what he told her. She was far less impulsive than Seralk, yet many of the same considerations applied when it came to protecting her by limiting what she actually knew. And everything he’d just told her was the absolute truth; it simply left out his own increasingly risky part in that opposition to Tellian’s plans.

  “No one could possibly predict where that sort of opposition might end, or how it might be expressed,” he continued. “Unfortunately, I believe it’s quite probable that it could lead to serious instability here in the Kingdom. That’s one of the things Tellian and the idiots supporting him have completely overlooked. The sheer scope of the threat he poses to those outside elements’ prosperity-especially to the Purple Lords’, and the gods know a Purple Lord will stop at nothing where money’s involved! — is almost bound to bring about interference here on the Wind Plain. The kind of interference that could well have disastrous consequences for the entire Kingdom! And however much I might fear the effect of their actions, I can’t pretend Tellian isn’t offering sufficient provocation for them to justify almost anything they might choose to do in response. But does he recognize that, or care about it if he does? No, of course he doesn’t!” He grimaced angrily. “He doesn’t give a single solitary damn that he’s embroiling us far more directly in the Axemen’s quarrels with both the Purple Lords and the Spearmen, which can hardly be in the Kingdom’s long-term interest!”

  He shook his head in unfeigned disgust at the way Tellian was subordinating the Sothoii’s interests to those of outsiders. He was honest enough to admit he probably would have been less disgusted if his own interests and influence weren’t going to be so severely damaged if Tellian succeeded, but that didn’t make anything he’d just said untrue.

  “In the worst case,” he said more somberly, “we could find ourselves in a situation which literally threatens to tear the Kingdom apart, possibly even send us back to the Time of Troubles.” He watched her eyes darken and nodded grimly. “And, frankly, that’s even more likely to happen because of how evenly matched Tellian and I are on the Great Council. You’ve read enough history to know what happens when opposing factions are so evenly balanced that neither seems likely to be able to achieve its ends through politics and compromise, and that’s exactly what I’m afraid we’re looking at. Obviously, Yeraghor supports me, but the wind riders support Tellian. That makes the North Riding critical, and that, I’m afraid, is the reason I’ve mentioned Thorandas’ request to you.”

  Shairnayith looked at him, then sighed. Despite how well he knew her and how much he loved her-or perhaps because of how much he loved her-he couldn’t read her emotions from her expression this time, and he wished desperately that he could.

  “Father,” she said after a moment, her voice low, “I’ve always known that when the time came I’d marry for ‘reasons of state.’ You did, when you married Mother, and it would have been foolish for me to think even for a moment that it could be any different in my case. For that matter, we only have to look at the West Riding to see what happens when people with the responsibilities we have marry to please themselves and let Phrobus take the rest of the Kingdom.”

  She hadn’t yet heard about Leeana and that bastard Bahzell, he knew, but she didn’t need to. The effects of Tellian and Hanatha’s selfish refusal to provide a clear succession before Leeana obliged everyone by running off the the war maids like the whore she’d turned out to be was quite bad enough. Her nostrils flared with genuine anger and contempt as she thought about it, and her eyes hardened. But then she raised them to meet his gaze again, and they softened once more.

  “I know you don’t want to ‘marry me off,’ Father. I know why you don’t. And to be completely honest, there’s a huge part of me that never wants to leave Toramos, move away from home…away from you. For that matter,” she smiled crookedly, “you’ve established a high standard for any future husband. I had to conclude some time ago, when I looked around and surveyed the possibilities, that I wasn’t going to find a husband of my own who was your equal, but that doesn’t keep me from wishing I could.

  “I don’t really know Thorandas.” She shrugged. “Oh, I’ve spoken with him several times at balls in Sothofalas, and I’ve encountered him from time to time when you’ve taken me to court, but I can’t say I’ve ever had the opportunity to actually become acquainted with him. On the other hand, how many noblewomen truly know their husbands before their wedding nights? From what I do know about him, he seems a likely enough man. I won’t pretend I haven’t had my own share of dreams and fantasies about dashing, handsome young men battling one another for my hand, but that’s what happens in bad ballads and worse novels, not in real life. And what young woman in her right mind could object to marrying the heir to one of the ridings? Especially when it would unite two of them not just politically but by blood?

  “You don’t need my consent to approve my betrothal to Thorandas.” Her smile warmed. “I can’t deny I’m pleased you did discuss it with me, even though the decision is ultimately yours. But I’m hardly surprised you did, however some other father might have acted in your place, and if you were concerned I might object to it, don’t be.” She drew another deep breath. “I imagine every young woman feels nervous, even a little frightened, when the time finally comes for her to leave her home and go make another one with someone else. I know I feel that way, at any rate! But I understand the reasons, and I’m sure that in time, Thorandas and I will build a life together just as you and Mother have.”

  Cassan’s eyes prickled as he looked across the table at her, and pride in her filled his heart. Yet he couldn’t help hoping Shairnayith and Thorandas’ lives together would be more complete than his own with her mother. Indeed, despite his disgust and contempt for Tellian, there was a tiny corner of his own heart which had never quite been able to stop envying him, as well, when he thought about the closeness which had kept him from setting Hanatha aside. Stupid, willful, and selfish of him, yes; it had been all of those things and worse, just as it had been the stuff of those bad ballads and worse novels of Shairnayith. Yet still that tiny piece of him envied the two of them for having something he himself had never had. Felytha Blackhill had wed a much younger Cassan Axehammer for the same sort of “reasons of state” Shairnayith faced, but there’d never been anything of fire or passion-or love-between them, and unlike her brother Rulth, she’d always hated the “great game.” She was far too intelligent and properly reared to ever let that hatred show, and Cassan doubted that even their children were aware of just how bitterly unhappy she’d been over the years as he waged his fierce, unremitting war against Tellian of Balthar. And however unhappy she’d been, she’d never shirked for a moment on her responsibilities to her house, her
husband, or her position.

  “Watching you leave Toramos will break my heart,” he told his daughter softly, “but you’re right. I’ve always known the time would come when I’d have to let you go, and perhaps I’ve been selfish not to have done it sooner. Yet the truth is that Thorandas is probably the only match I could make which could possibly be worthy of you.”

  “I’m less concerned with worthiness than I am with binding our house more closely to the Daggeraxes for the good of them both…and for the Kingdom as a whole, as well,” Shairnayith replied.

  “I’ve never doubted that for a moment, but I hope you’ll forgive a father for trying his best to find his daughter the husband she deserves…and the position for which she’s so well fitted.”

  Shairnayith smiled and made a tiny waving away gesture with her right hand. Then she straightened and pushed her chair back from the table.

  “I’m sure you’re actually thinking about all sorts of other things right now, Father.” She shook one finger at him teasingly, her voice and manner almost- almost — normal. “I know you too well to think anything else could be possible! But with your permission, I think I’ll leave you to your plans and machinations while I go for a ride to think about what we’ve discussed this morning.”

  “Of course, my dear,” he agreed. “Just be sure you take your armsmen along.”

  “And here I was, planning on sneaking away without them.” She sighed and shook her head. “Very well. Since you insist.”

  “Such a dutiful daughter,” he said, a deep, gentle note underlying the humor in his voice, and she bent to kiss him lightly on the cheek before she rustled out of the room in the whisper of her skirts.