There was no doubt that this was one of the worst winters that Hardorn had ever experienced, even without the effect of the magestorms. The main difference in the weather now that the mage-storms had abated, according to their aide, was that now there were only snowstorms, not killing blizzards, every two weeks or so. With the incredible blanket of snow covering the ground, the sun couldn't even begin to melt it before another layer fell.
The modified Heralds' Whites that the hertasi had designed for her seemed particularly well-suited to the icy landscape outside. He wondered what the Imperial soldiers thought when they saw her; did they believe that her costume was meant to reflect the season, as Tayledras scout gear did?
"You know," Elspeth said finally, in Tayledras. "This situation has some interesting parallels in the history of Valdemar—the Founding, specifically."
"Oh?" Darkwind joined her, hands outstretched to the warm stove, wishing that there was something like a Hawkbrother hot spring or soaking pool about. It never seemed possible to be entirely warm except in bed. He responded in the same language. "I wasn't aware of that."
"'Well, Valdemar was fleeing the Empire rather than serving it when he and his followers trekked out in this direction, but when he got to the point where Haven is now and started building, he actually built beside an existing village," Elspeth replied, turning to face the stove and rubbing her hands together. "The locals there were not entirely thrilled with having a foreign power moving in, although they never actually opposed him. But once they saw the advantages of coming under his protection—and the way in which his own followers were treated—they began to act the way the Hardornens are with Tremane. And eventually, of course, they insisted that he call himself a King." She chuckled. "That was really rather funny; it seemed that every little petty ruler for leagues in every direction was calling himself a 'King,' and his own people were embarrassed to be led by a mere Baron. They had a crown made up, called in a priest to concoct a ceremony, and had him crowned before he had a chance to object. I gather that he was rather startled by it all."
Darkwind laughed. "That may be the first time I've ever heard of someone being tricked into becoming a King," he responded. "But you're right, I do see the parallels there."
She stared at the stove, frowning. "I think we can assume that Tremane is going to be offered the Crown, no matter what."
"I think that is a foregone conclusion, yes, lover"" Dark wind admitted. "Even if he doesn't have earth-sense, the priest may perform the binding anyway, just to make him eligible. I think he was right about that."
She sighed and nodded. "The next question may be how we arrange for there to be the same cheeks on the King of Hardorn that there are on the Son of the Sun, the King of Rethwellan, and the Queen of Valdemar. Solaris has to answer to Vkandis, Faram has both the earth-binding and his family's sword to contend with, and Selenay has her Companion." She chewed her lip. "Then again—we may already have those checks partially in place. Solaris did curse him with speaking only the truth, after all."
"Yes, but not the whole truth," he reminded her. "There are ways of lying simply by not telling all of the truth."
She grimaced, and turned away from the warmth to pace the room as she often did when she was thinking. "You may think I'm going mad, but I'm beginning to agree with young Karal; I think this man has a basically good nature. That entire interview about the assassins when we first arrived...."
Darkwind nodded, for he had come away with the same impression out of that interview; that Tremane was a man who would bear the dreadful burden of indirectly ordering the deaths of innocent people, and he would feel guilt about that for the rest of his life. Real guilt, not feigned. And it didn't matter that he had good reason at the time for his actions; what mattered was that he himself had changed over the course of these several months. What had been acceptable to him before no longer was.
But Darkwind also was aware that the man could be a very good actor. Most rulers were, to a greater or lesser extent.
"I still have some reservations," he said after a moment. "What occurred in the past is immutable. He has done terrible things to us, and without any provocation. Perhaps he has regrets now. but I find myself wondering if he might not revert to his old ways under pressure."
She sighed. :I think we'd better continue this conversation in a way that can't be overheard,: she cautioned.
:Good idea. Sejanes had some magical way of learning Valdemaran and other tongues; there might be someone else here who can do the same thing.: Granted, there might not be enough mage-energy for them to do so. but why take the chance? :We Tayledras are more suspicious than any other race, I think, but I wish I knew if it was Tremane's better nature that had been subverted by the expediency of the Empire, or his expedient nature that has chosen to disguise itself as a good heart for—well—!:
:He's in a position to do everyone more good than harm right now,: Gwena pointed out, joining the conversation.
:Gwena's right; and in fact, that's exactly what he has done,: Elspeth seconded. :Look at his record: granted, he coopted the best structure in the area for his headquarters, but other than that, he lives a relatively lean life for someone who is basically the uncrowned king of this area. He eats exactly the same food as his men, he isn't wasting precious resources on extravagant entertainments for his own benefit; in fact, he's pouring a lot of those resources back into the community here. He never asks his men to do anything he wouldn't, and he's usually out there leading them in person.:
:He thinks first of his men, then of the local folk, then of their land and their beasts, and then of himself,: Gwena put in. :That is the pattern that I'm seeing, and honestly, while some of that might be expediency, it can't all be explained by that.:
Darkwind chuckled. :I'm glad he's not handsome; I'd be jealous. He's managed to seduce both my ladies away from me.:
Elspeth picked up an inkstand and pretended to throw it at him; he ducked.
:Consider yourself kicked,: Gwena retorted.
:Honestly, ke'chara, I would like to give him the chance to prove himself, and the way he handles the next crisis—which is going to be very, very bad, I think—will tell us what he's really made of," Elspeth replied.
Darkwind chewed on that thought a while before replying, wondering if they were all making a terrible mistake. He wanted to believe in Tremane, and in the idea that the man was finally allowing himself to behave in a moral fashion rather than a calculated one. How must it have felt, to spend most of one's life having to plot each and every action without regard to whether or not it was ethically right? If he himself had been in that position, he'd have been driven mad.
:All right,: he said at last, :but I have one proviso.: His jaw tensed as he hardened his mind. :If he proves treacherous, and a danger to the Alliance—if he is going to cost more lives—we take care of the situation ourselves.:
:You mean, kill him.: Elspeth nodded, very slowly. :I don't like it—but I don't want another Ancar, much less another Falconsbane. He's used to using magic, and it would be very tempting to resort to the blood-path to get the power he's used to having.: She shivered, and so did he; they had both seen far too much of the results of that path. :We've done this before, and I'd rather the blood were on our hands, I suppose, than find that even more innocent blood had been spilled.:
It was a nasty moral trap; when was murder acceptable? But that was the moral trap that the Tayledras had always been in. Darkwind himself had faced it many times—warning trespassers three times, and assuming that if they did not heed the warning, they were in Hawkbrother lands for evil purposes. How many would-be enslavers of tervardi and hertasi, mages hunting for yet more power for the wrong purposes, and would-be murderers of Hawkbrothers had he eliminated over the years? Enough that he had lost count.
Elspeth only had a handful of deaths on her conscience, but she was prepared to add another if the need was there.
:And with any luck, we'll all discover that our pessimism is un
founded,: Gwena said cheerfully. :I'll tell you what; I will see if I can tell whether or not Tremane has earth-sense, while you make contact with the loyalists. Darkwind, my dear, we need to rummage through your wardrobe and find something in it that will not scream foreigner to every person in the town.:
:What do you mean, we, horse?: he asked her.
Darkwind found his messenger—and Gwena's careful probe of Duke Tremane uncovered only a verdict of "maybe." Four days later, their aide knocked tentatively on the door to their quarters just after they'd finished breakfast. "Excuse me, Envoys?" he said, when Darkwind opened the door to him. "I don't want to interrupt, but there's a religious gentleman below who says that you called for him?"
Elspeth turned in surprise. Despite Gwena's assurance, she hadn't really expected an answer to their message this quickly. The man really must have been fairly close by; that argued for certainty on the part of the Hardornens that they had made Tremane an offer he would find irresistible.
"We have been expecting him, Jem," Darkwind told the young man. "We just didn't know when he would arrive. If you are reasonably sure that it is safe to do so, please show him the way up. Otherwise, if you are not happy with a potential breach of security, we can arrange to meet him in the town."
Jem flushed. "Oh, no. He's just an old man—it won't cause any problems. I just didn't know if you wanted to be bothered with him, if he might be a charlatan or—" He flushed even redder, realizing that he might have inadvertently insulted all of them.
"That's fine, Jem. Please show him here, and arrange for something hot for all of us to drink. And perhaps more food, he might not have broken his own fast yet," Elspeth said, in her kindest tones.
The aide bowed a little, still red with embarrassment, and left quickly. Tremane's aides were far more used to military situations than to the diplomatic ones they now found themselves hip-deep in. Elspeth found it rather charming, actually; military men were, in general, much easier to deal with and much more straightforward than civilians.
The old man and the second breakfast arrived at the same time; Elspeth privately thought that she wasn't too surprised Jem had taken him for a possible charlatan. There was nothing at all remarkable about him. His hair, gray and a touch on the shaggy side, looked as if he had not put a scissors to it lately. His build was that of a long-time clerk whose parents may have been merchants or tradesmen of modest means. His face, square, with a small beard, was lined with care, yet had smile-creases bracketing his mouth and eyes. His robes and cloak were clean and serviceable, but hardly impressive, he wore no liturgical jewels, and his manner was unassuming and cheerful. All of which, in her experience, meant that he was probably a very good priest; good priest, like good leaders, gave more to their followers than they kept for themselves, and were not particularly conscious of appearances.
They introduced themselves and offered the old man, who called himself Father Janas, their hospitality. As Elspeth had anticipated, he hadn't eaten, and he applied himself to the food with a hearty appetite. They kept conversation to a minimum until he had finished; once he had taken his cloak off, it was fairly obvious that, like most Hardornens, he had been sharing in the hard times. He wasn't emaciated, but he was thin enough that he had probably been on the same short rations as his followers.
"Oh, that was lovely," he said at last, when he had finished, and leaned back in his chair cradling a cup of hot tea laden with honey. "I'm afraid that my besetting sin is that I cannot resist good food." He laughed. "Since we are supposed to be concentrating on the spiritual world rather than the secular world, I suspect I shall be chided for my failing sooner or later by those to whom I must answer."
Darkwind smiled at that. "I would rather say that you were showing proper joy and respect for the bounty of the earth," Darkwind replied, and the old priest chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes.
"Well, shall we deal with the reason that I am here, rather than engage in rationalizing my shortcomings" he asked, after taking a sip of his tea. "As I assume you suppose, I have come to test Duke Tremane for earth-sense, which will mean that I will awake it if it is there; and once I have done so, I will bind him to Hardorn. Now, nothing I have been vouch-safed has given me any indication that he does or does not have the Sense, and I am quite sure that he has no idea what is going to happen, do either of you?"
Elspeth shook her head. "We don't use that Gift in Valdemar, or, rather, if we do, it isn't used by Heralds, Bards, or Healers. And those are the only ones whose training I'm familiar with," she said. "My stepfather has it, but we've never discussed it much, and he was never formally bound to Valdemar. I've heard of other latent Gifts being awakened as a theoretical possibility, but no one in my lifetime has ever tried such a thing."
Darkwind shrugged, as the priest turned to him. "The Tayledras Healing Adepts all develop earth-sense along with their other abilities," he replied. "It doesn't come on them all at once, and if anyone has it latently, we've never bothered to awaken it. I haven't any idea how someone would react in such a circumstance."
Father Janas raised an eyebrow. "It can be rather dramatic," he said cautiously. "Assuming that one has it latently, rather than having a very weak version of the Sense, that is. We have always conducted this particular ceremony several days before the actual coronation of our kings, precisely because of that. It sometimes takes the recipient a good deal of time to get used to his new ability, if heretofore it has only been latent and when actuated proves to be very strong."
Elspeth nodded. "Rather like suddenly being able to see, I suppose," she offered. "Well, that is all very well in theory—but you are here to put theory into practice. How soon would you care to see Duke Tremane? Are there any preparations you would like to make, any vestments you need to change into before you are presented?"
Father Janas smoothed down the front of his robe self-consciously. "Much as I wish I could present a more impressive picture, I am afraid that I am wearing my best—indeed, my only vestments." He licked his lips and looked apologetic. "Ancar did not persecute priests and clerics directly, but he found many ways of doing so indirectly. I do not think you will find a single religious organization in all of Hardorn surviving at better than a subsistence level, and many simply vanished altogether as old members died and no new ones came to replace them." He shook his head sadly. "At any rate, it is all moot; I have no preparations to make, and I should prefer to see the Duke as soon as possible, as soon as he has the time free."
Darkwind rose to request their aide to take a message to the Duke. Elspeth had some other ideas, however.
She wrote a short note while Darkwind was talking with Jem, and asked the aide to take the message down to Tremane's chief of supply on his way back from delivering their request for an audience to the Duke. Jem looked baffled, but agreed; he was obviously not going to question why the envoy wanted to send a note to the supply sergeant.
"Just what are you up to?" Darkwind asked her, as they closed the door behind his retreating back and returned to their guest.
Elspeth seated herself before replying. "Tremane told me that he and his men had virtually gutted an entire Imperial warehouse complex," she told him, as well as their guest. "Now, given how the Empire likes to regiment things, even though there is no official Imperial religion, I am betting that somewhere among all the uniforms brought back are at least a few standard imperial Army Chaplains' robes, or something of that nature. And I'm also betting that they look pretty much like every other priest's robes I've ever seen, precisely because an Imperial Army Chaplain would have to be able to conduct the rites of several religions, hence the uniform robe will be as bland and as general as possible."
"I follow your reasoning so far," Darkwind said, still puzzled. "But why should the supply sergeant let us have one of these uniforms, if they exist?"
She grinned. "I've been talking to the townsfolk. I know that it is Tremane's standard procedure to sell anything in stores that is not immediately useful to his soldiers if a
civilian wants to buy it. You'll find a lot of townsfolk outfitted in surplused uniforms of some of the odder auxiliary disciplines, if you know what to look for. I asked specifically if I could purchase a set of chaplain's robes if there are any, and asked him to send them up as soon as he found them." She turned to the priest, who was a little flushed. "We'll have plenty of time to alter them into something approximating your own vestments before Tremane has time to see us."
Father Janas looked even more embarrassed. "Really, that's too good of you—"
She interrupted him with a cautionary hand. "You're being generous and forgiving; I know that this was a bit high-handed of me. But we may be more anxious to settle this than you are, and I'd prefer not to leave anything to chance. The Grand Duke isn't even certain that he believes earth-sense exists; I suspect his attitude is more that he is humoring us than anything else. We all want him to agree to go through with something he already considers to be mummery, and we want him to agree to do it now. The better the impression your appearance will make on him, the more likely he is to do that."
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