don't you?" she asked in a low voice. "That's one best left unspoken of, even here over the border. They've never proved he's done anything wrong, and the court folk either worship him or fear him. But we know better, the lower levels of witchies do. He's got too much power, and too much inclination to use it. So even whilst you're among friends, it still does no harm to guard your tongue."
Shette kept her face blank. No one was that powerful, to hear her words in a worn little tavern at the border, but she didn't want to offend the woman. Erlya must have felt reasonably safe as well, for she dropped the furtive tone she'd been using and asked in a perfectly normal voice, "Why're you asking? You're Therand, aren't you, with talk of the Guides an' such... that one's Solvan politics."
"I'm not from Therand," Shette said. "I grew up in the Loraka border mountains. Folks believe whichever way they choose, there." Though, in fact, when she thought of it, she could only come up with one other family that followed the Therand belief of Guides for the Nine Levels. "I just heard the name, is all. I was wondering."
All the women exchanged glances of polite disbelief. "You just heard the name?" Sontra said. "No one banters that name around without reason. Skete, Bern, or Rikka— now those are all High Level mages you can trust, more or less. But not that one."
"Well," Shette said uncomfortably, not sure if she was betraying some kind of confidence, but increasingly aware that she wasn't going to get any information without giving it in return, "Whoever he is, Var— er, that one is the man who took Ehren away from finding who killed his king. He seemed pretty mad about it. I was just wondering."
"Ah, it's to do with Ehren, has it," Sevita said, as if that explained anything. "No doubt the Guard is angered if what you heard is true. He's a right good man, that Ehren. Trustworthy." The others nodded, as if this was the highest honor they could bestow him, but they were exchanging quick glances among themselves and finally broke into snickers.
"Damn good-looking chunk of trustworthy!" Dajania said. Shette blushed bright red, and was very quiet until things settled down.
Finally, Heliga asked, "You sure he's off that search?" with doubt on her face. "I was with a fellow just last night, drunk he was. Talking about how glad he was to have finally gotten out of that country, Solvany, I mean. Made out as how he'd been in hiding for a year, creeping for the border, scared for his life the whole time."
"A year." Dajania repeated the words as though they had some special meaning, and at Shette's blank look, said, "It's been just that long that Benlan's been dead."
~~~~~
It hadn't been hard for Shette to learn the rest of what Heliga knew. The fellow she'd bedded had been on foot, and heading for Lake Everdawn. He'd left just that morning. And Heliga, though she couldn't quote the man, was convinced that he hadn't done anything; he merely knew something. "He's a little fellow, like me," she'd said, adding, somewhat empathetically, "He just wants to feel he's safe again."
He'd be safe enough under Ehren's wing, Shette was certain. If the man knew something that put his life in danger, he was surely running from conspiracy, and not from Guards like Ehren. And he was on foot...
She left the tavern, elaborately casual about her good-byes, and trotted across the road to the caravan encampment. Next to their wagon, Clang the mule eyed her with mild concern, a wisp of hay straggling out of his mouth.
Little did he know. Shette grinned at him. Clambering into the wagon, she opened the backmost compartment and pulled out a tangle of girth and bridle and blanket. There was nothing wrong with taking a little afternoon ride; Laine had never specifically said she shouldn't. And she had wanted to see more of the area, even if it was more road.
She knew what the man looked like, what he was wearing— if she happened to come upon him, and told
Shette kept her face blank. No one was that powerful, to hear her words in a worn little tavern at the border, but she didn't want to offend the woman. Erlya must have felt reasonably safe as well, for she dropped the furtive tone she'd been using and asked in a perfectly normal voice, "Why're you asking? You're Therand, aren't you, with talk of the Guides an' such... that one's Solvan politics."
"I'm not from Therand," Shette said. "I grew up in the Loraka border mountains. Folks believe whichever way they choose, there." Though, in fact, when she thought of it, she could only come up with one other family that followed the Therand belief of Guides for the Nine Levels. "I just heard the name, is all. I was wondering."
All the women exchanged glances of polite disbelief. "You just heard the name?" Sontra said. "No one banters that name around without reason. Skete, Bern, or Rikka— now those are all High Level mages you can trust, more or less. But not that one."
"Well," Shette said uncomfortably, not sure if she was betraying some kind of confidence, but increasingly aware that she wasn't going to get any information without giving it in return, "Whoever he is, Var— er, that one is the man who took Ehren away from finding who killed his king. He seemed pretty mad about it. I was just wondering."
"Ah, it's to do with Ehren, has it," Sevita said, as if that explained anything. "No doubt the Guard is angered if what you heard is true. He's a right good man, that Ehren. Trustworthy." The others nodded, as if this was the highest honor they could bestow him, but they were exchanging quick glances among themselves and finally broke into snickers.
"Damn good-looking chunk of trustworthy!" Dajania said. Shette blushed bright red, and was very quiet until things settled down.
Finally, Heliga asked, "You sure he's off that search?" with doubt on her face. "I was with a fellow just last night, drunk he was. Talking about how glad he was to have finally gotten out of that country, Solvany, I mean. Made out as how he'd been in hiding for a year, creeping for the border, scared for his life the whole time."
"A year." Dajania repeated the words as though they had some special meaning, and at Shette's blank look, said, "It's been just that long that Benlan's been dead."
~~~~~
It hadn't been hard for Shette to learn the rest of what Heliga knew. The fellow she'd bedded had been on foot, and heading for Lake Everdawn. He'd left just that morning. And Heliga, though she couldn't quote the man, was convinced that he hadn't done anything; he merely knew something. "He's a little fellow, like me," she'd said, adding, somewhat empathetically, "He just wants to feel he's safe again."
He'd be safe enough under Ehren's wing, Shette was certain. If the man knew something that put his life in danger, he was surely running from conspiracy, and not from Guards like Ehren. And he was on foot...
She left the tavern, elaborately casual about her good-byes, and trotted across the road to the caravan encampment. Next to their wagon, Clang the mule eyed her with mild concern, a wisp of hay straggling out of his mouth.
Little did he know. Shette grinned at him. Clambering into the wagon, she opened the backmost compartment and pulled out a tangle of girth and bridle and blanket. There was nothing wrong with taking a little afternoon ride; Laine had never specifically said she shouldn't. And she had wanted to see more of the area, even if it was more road.
She knew what the man looked like, what he was wearing— if she happened to come upon him, and told
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