"You think not?"
The girl had the blood to match that ornament of jade, Medair decided. No-one without some breeding and background could manage quite that note of contempt. The youth felt it and looked annoyed, then cooled, and began acting a good deal more like a proper Ibisian.
"The matter is of little import," he said, and deliberately turned away from Ileaha. "Kel ar Corleaux," he continued, awarding her the form of address suitable for commoners. "My cousin wishes speech with you. He was asleep when word came of your return, so you need not hurry your meal. Keris las Goranum will, I hope, be capable of escorting you when you have done." He rose and bowed exquisitely to Medair, not at all to Ileaha, and left. Very much on his dignity.
There was a short silence while Medair continued eating and Ileaha played with the edge of the tablecloth. "What is Cor-Ibis' title?" Medair asked when she was finished. She was feeling more in control of herself now, able to think about what to do next.
Ileaha looked at her, not quite startled. "You do not know?"
"He didn't introduce himself," Medair replied. "And Keris las Theomain took pains, last night, to be vague about his identity. A stupid thing, since the stable hands seemed to know who he was and would be happier than I to spread the tale. The way his cousin referred to him made it obvious that he is head of that family."
'las' meant 'of the line' and was only dropped from reference when the person was the active controller of the line, title and fortunes of the family.
"He did not know even your name," Ileaha replied, fencing.
"I didn't introduce myself either. Considering his first words to me consisted of a geas, I can surely be forgiven for feeling less than friendly. Being drawn out of my way for something which, from the body count, looks to be more than dangerous, does little to put me in a good humour. Without even an explanation, which I suppose you would not supply if I asked."
"Better not," Ileaha replied, and allowed the silence to stretch before answering. "He is Illukar Síahn las Cor-Ibis, Keridahl Avec."
High Lord Right of the Cold Blood. Medair had always found Ibisian titles clumsy in translation. Kier was a title which meant Highest 'Ruler' more than High King, since the word was not specific to a gender. Keridahl was High Lord, something similar to a Duke. Avec was an extra title awarded to only one Keridahl at a time. The man was the current Kier's second most favoured lord. She had guessed the Keridahl, from those absent earrings, but not the Avec.
Medair, after a short pause, recited: "Keriel, Kerivor, Kerikath, Kerikal, Keriden, Keridahl, Keridahl Avec, Keridahl Alar, Kierash, Kier."
"And AlKier," Ileaha finished, softly.
"That I've never quite understood, this idea of a Ruler of All. Farak does not rule, she provides, nurtures."
Ileaha shook her head. "Worship of the land. It is –" She paused. "Probably it is best not to become embroiled in a discussion about the AlKier or your land which provides."
"No," Medair agreed, studying the girl. Farakkian and Ibisian both – there had been none of her kind during the war. "Who are you? A name tells so little."
"Your name is one which usually tells everything."
Medair would not be drawn. "My misfortune."
"I am one of Cor-Ibis' wards."
"One? He has many?"
"A half-dozen. He is Cor-Ibis. Dependants are inevitable."
"You don't seem a child. How long do you remain a ward?" This girl was at least twenty, which was the Ibisian majority.
"I am no longer in care," Ileaha replied carefully. "But, being without family, a suitable trade, or sufficient property, I am not quite disposed of."
The traditional poor relation. "So...the Keridahl Avec, Illukar las Cor-Ibis, travels to Kyledra with a cousin, an ex-ward, a singularly impolite woman, a couple of Farakkians and remarkably few servants. He settles them in an inn in Thrence, shape-changes into a Farakkian child and somehow ends up spell shocked at the site of a battle in Bariback Forest, an area essentially under-populated and dull, too far west of the Lemmek Pass to be of interest even to the merchants who died there, let alone the Kyledran Kingsmen, various mercenaries and oddly dressed Decians. And I see you're not going to tell me what it's all about."
The girl shook her head, mutely.
"Very well, then. Who is this Jedda las Theomain, who seems to be in charge of Cor-Ibis' people? She's an adept, isn't she? Don't tell me she's another ex-ward or cousin? His wife?" No, las Theomain had not had a second piercing in her right ear.
After a pause, the girl replied carefully: "Keris las Theomain is an adept, yes. Her family head is Keriel Theomain. The Keris is strong in arcane power, more so than most, and has made a name for herself acting on the Kier's behalf and as a close friend of the Kier. She is not in charge of Cor-Ibis' people, but had authority in his absence."
Medair decided to pry. "Over you in particular?"
Ileaha was inspecting the tablecloth again. "I believe Keridahl Cor-Ibis has discussed the possibility of my being given into service to Keris las Theomain as secretary. I have a small amount of mage skill, which would be useful to an adept."
"Someone for her to snap orders at?" Medair interpreted. "Couldn't you serve the Keridahl in that capacity, if you must serve? Or is the carefully dressed cousin already filling the role?"
"Kerin Avahn is Cor-Ibis' heir," Ileaha replied, again startled at Medair's ignorance. A frown came into her eyes and she closed her teeth on whatever she had been about to say. It was apparent she did not approve of Avahn. Something to remember.
Medair drained her glass and stood.
"Well, shall we go and see if your ex-guardian has woken up? I assume Keris las Theomain has not gone to rouse him expressly for the purpose of telling him I have no manners."
"You did not display such self-command yesterday," Ileaha commented.
"I was tired, yesterday, and I knew it was unlikely that Cor-Ibis would be going anywhere immediately. All haste to get here, knowing that he would fall down by journey's end. I suppose he wanted Keris las Theomain to send a wend-whisper, knowing that he could not."
Ileaha did not reply.
Chapter Seven
More than a decem passed before Medair was summoned into the presence of Cor-Ibis, and she had to work hard not to stoke her resentment. There was very much an air of a royal audience in the manner in which she was finally conducted, after much to-ing and fro-ing by the attendant Ibisians, into a large, gently lit bedroom which smelled of sandalwood. Jedda las Theomain and Avahn waited until she had stepped past them, then positioned themselves on either side of the door, almost as if they thought she would try to escape.
Illukar las Cor-Ibis had been transformed. Silk-clad, he was propped against a mound of cushions: an impromptu throne of brocade and tassels. His hair flowed in two shining streams, breaking into little rivulets which pooled on the coverlet and came close to dripping off the bed. Single braids before each ear shaded a triple set of tigers-eye, and Medair fixed her eyes on those banded stones, the one thing very different to an image in her past. He was shockingly reminiscent of Ieskar, not as Medair had first seen the Kier, but after the capture of Iskand.
It was all in the skin. Ibisians would at times peel, but never tan, and their skin went through whole ranges of white. Cor-Ibis was at present an unhealthy milky colour, a white-blue shade no Farakkian skin could manage, with the addition of pronounced circles beneath his eyes. And that wonderful black-violet splotch marring his jaw. He appeared alert, but decidedly fragile, as Ieskar had been after Iskand. She'd thought at the time that the Kier had been injured taking the city, and had learned the truth only last year.
He had been dying. All the time, he had been dying.
Resolutely, Medair focused on the present, but it did not help that this shape-changing Keridahl wore the same mask of neutrality which had served Kier Ieskar so faithfully.
"Kel ar Corleaux," Cor-Ibis said, sending a shiver down her spine. "Please be seated."
Me
dair carefully settled into the chair, a large, wing-backed piece drawn up to the bedside. Determined not to show how unsettled she was, she pushed all shadow of the past at least from her face as he studied her. His pale grey eyes were reflective and silvery in the light of the mage-glows, and the effect was enhanced by the blue, green and silver robe he wore. He successfully gave the impression that there was nothing unconventional in receiving visitors while enthroned in bed. The muddy battered creature she'd dropped into a horse trough was a long way in the past.
"I hope you were not too badly punished when Arcana House failed to break my geas, Kel ar Corleaux," he said.
Medair, busy keeping hostility and discomfiture from her face, was nearly overset by this apparent reading of her mind. Surely he could not have had her followed?
"What is this?" Keris las Theomain asked in Ibis-laran, her voice sharp. No-one answered her.
"I had been taught that once a geas is cast, the caster has no connection to it," Medair said. "That it becomes a thing entirely unto itself." That was what the Emperor's mages had decided, when they investigated the hold the Ibisians had over their captives.
Cor-Ibis inclined his head, muted light shimmering over his hair and robes. "That is so. But an attempt at geas-breaking announces itself clearly enough. A loud magic, sufficient to wake me, especially in its failure. Arcana House is the only place you could have gone for the attempt."
"Keridahl?! You did not–"
"Jedda, be so kind as to use a tongue our guest understands," Cor-Ibis said, not even looking at the woman. Medair decided this was not the point at which to admit to a very reasonable comprehension of Ibis-laran.
"I shall remember that you are sensitive indeed to the arcane, Keridahl," she told him, testing her way across a quagmire. "It was a particularly bad headache, yes, but it passed."
Sensitive and disturbingly intelligent. Certainly the geas-breaking would have been detectable by Thrence's magi, but it would have been felt merely as a surge of power, not as anything specific. Cor-Ibis had linked her day's absence to the surge and correctly deduced the cause. He was proving a little too like Ieskar for her comfort.
"It is inconvenient for you, I am sure, but may I suggest that you do not stop at the nearest Arcana House in Ashencaere for another attempt? As matters stand, there no longer exists a desperate need for secrecy, but advertisement is still undesirable. Can I assume that Therin an Selvar does not know the entirety of the tale?"
"The strength of the spell informed on the caster's identity," Medair replied, finding herself falling into the same pattern of speech as Cor-Ibis. "But only as one of four. Adept an Selvar did not question me closely, having received the impression that the geas extended to discussion." She paused, turning over her options. "We did speak of a colleague of the adept – a man called Hendist – who had been called away on duty for the Kyledran Crown. Something about smuggling, or border taxes, they were not at all clear. I was not certain if this man was among all the various charred folk, so I did not mention the matter."
"You gave your word not to speak of it at all," Jedda las Theomain said, cold accusation.
"Even so," Medair replied, remembering abruptly that she hated White Snakes. Did they think that no Farakkian had honour?
Cor-Ibis turned his head, a hint of the invalid in the care he took, and rested his silver-lit eyes on the Ibisian woman for a full ten breaths. He looked patient, an expression which was effective indeed in silencing the female adept. Hostility suddenly thickened the air and Medair was forced to revise her assumptions about Keris las Theomain. She was not, as Medair had assumed, a supporter of Cor-Ibis. Had the ex-ward not said something about being a close friend of the current Kier? Was las Theomain with the party to monitor Cor-Ibis' activities? Did this mean the Keridahl Avec and the Kier were at odds? Politics and intrigues and she had no place in them.
"I hope I am not the reason you purchased that charm, Kel ar Corleaux," Cor-Ibis continued, as if he had never paused.
Medair automatically lifted a hand to touch the necklace, which he could apparently also sense. A formidable mage indeed. She had no intention of trying to explain the Decians, and hid her unease in increasing blandness.
"Not at all, Keridahl. This is more a matter of a person whose horse I...borrowed, who I expect is in an ill-humour. And I don't even have the horse any more – it was that bay which ran off when you so inconsiderately changed shape."
Cor-Ibis inclined his head to one side. "An eventful journey. I am sorry to have caused you such inconvenience, Kel ar Corleaux. Unfortunately, I must continue to do so. Can I hope that Athere is not too far out of your way?"
"A little further east than I was intending." Medair shrugged, inwardly pleased because he had as she wished assumed she'd stolen the horse on his behalf. She also noticed, as the neat braids framing his face swung out of the way, that he only wore a single adept's sigil of silver in his right ear, despite two piercings. It meant his wife was dead, or the marriage bond broken. She ignored the possibility of sympathy and turned to tackle her questions head-on.
"Since it seems I cannot yet leave your company, would it be too great a request, Keridahl, to know the why behind that fight in Bariback Forest? I have thought up an explanation or two and would appreciate knowing whether I had guessed correctly."
White-lashed lids dropped, veiling the silvery eyes. There was a little silence, during which Medair could practically feel Keris las Theomain restraining herself. The woman had not hidden her opinion of Medair, but she had been rebuked twice in a manner so restrained it was crushing, and her rank was very much less than this man's.
Cor-Ibis, Medair decided, was not in the slightest bit surprised by her question. Any sensible person would have been expecting it. It seemed this particular mannerism was a sign of amusement. No. Something else.
"It would be churlish indeed to deny such a request," he said, still without breaking from the mode of polite courtesy. "It appears, from what you have said to Keris las Goranum, that all which remains to be told is what prize was fought over in the Forest."
"Smuggling and border taxes," Medair said, with the tiniest hint of cheer. "Not Koltan brandy, one presumes."
He smiled, a species of open good humour which she again found startling. But a White Snake who smiled was still...no more her enemy than any other. She would be forever having to cut off such thoughts as these, if she was obliged to remain in the company of these people. It would do her no good to gloom and glower and nurse her grievances like a Medarist.
"Not Koltan brandy," Cor-Ibis agreed. "But before I go on, I have a question for you, Kel ar Corleaux. The scene of the battle – you identified those involved readily enough. Did you have any impression as to the victor of that messy little skirmish?"
Medair contrived not to appear concerned by this question. "No," she replied. "It didn't seem as if any care had been taken over the dead. Everyone was where they'd fallen, unless, perhaps, there was yet another party involved and they'd taken off all their dead. Most of the bodies were well-crisped, besides." She shuddered, recalling the scent of cooked meat. "That spell was decems old by the time I reached the site," she added.
"Unfortunate," he said. "I would like very much to know who survived that wholly inadvisable casting. Well, you are aware, I presume, of the situation between Palladium and Decia? This is–" He paused as she shook her head.
"I'm not, no. There was some fuss about Decia encroaching on Ennas Ashra, last time I asked, but that was Autumn."
"Indeed? In précis then, Decia encroached a little too far on Ennas Ashra. Producing some interesting claims about the legitimacy of the Corminevar succession, they made an highly abortive attempt to liberate Ennas Ashra in the name of the true heir to the Silver Throne."
Doubtless those steady silvery eyes caught her sudden stillness, but Medair's voice, Herald-trained, was perfectly calm when she spoke: "How do they base this claim? I had not heard of any who could possibly prove a more direct de
scent than Kier Inelkar." But she would dearly like to know everything about such a one. Behind her, she heard Avahn las Cor-Ibis shift position, and knew she was not keeping her thoughts well enough hidden.
"A descendant of Prince-Elect Verium, we are told," said the soft voice. "This 'heir' apparently possesses various tokens and documents to indicate a liaison between the Prince-Elect and a woman called Cathale an Sendel. It is difficult to discover the truth of the matter. Extensive research shows us only that Cathale an Sendel was at the Silver Court during the relevant period and gives no indication as to whether she had any association with the Prince-Elect, let alone was carrying his child when the Niadril Kier took Athere. Such, however, is the basis of the claim."
Medair was in a dark, distant place, a few nights before she said goodbye to Jorlaise. She had noticed two heads bent towards each other and thought with disgusted amusement that Verium had made yet another conquest. The timing was right. The timing was all too right.
From the vantage of that distant place she looked towards a colourful blur which resolved into dragonflies dancing in the patterns of Illukar las Cor-Ibis' robes. It brought her back to herself.
"If such a child existed, it would not be legitimately heir. Verium died with his father; he could have had no chance to acknowledge a child." Her tone was flat.
"Yes, there are several points of dispute to the claim, whatever the truth," Cor-Ibis agreed, continuing to take note of her reactions. "It is an excuse, not a legal pivot, and serves best as a rallying cry. Perhaps, if the move had not come from Decia, so long an enemy of Ennas Ashra, it would have been more effective. Perhaps not. As it was, the country failed to rise up in support of the so-called heir. Few lives were lost on either side. Something of a non-event, except that it made a true conflict almost inevitable.
"That was just before the snows set in last year. Spring brought renewed political manoeuvring, but only Rilanny and Hibbolt have declared outright with Decia. We wait for more and reinforce the borders. That, then, brings us to the task at hand."
The Silence of Medair Page 8
