Storm Warning by Mercedes Lackey Page A

appraisal, but Ulrich only seemed amused by her attitude. If she was as high an officer as Rubrik had indicated, there was nothing of that about her costume, at least not as Karal recognized rank-signs. Their hostess wore the same Guard uniform that they had seen before, with perhaps a bit more in the way of silver decoration.
    Personally, she was quite attractive, and could have been any age from late twenties to early fifties. She had the kind of face that remained handsome no matter the number of her years, a slim and athletic build, and an aura of complete confidence. This was someone in complete authority; someone who knew that she was good at her work, and did not bother to hide that fact. Karal was intimidated by her, and he realized it immediately. The only other woman who had ever had that effect on him was Solaris, and the Son of the Sun was relatively sexless compared to this Valdemaran commander. He was very glad that he was not the one that most of her attention was centered on.
    “Well,” she said, slowly, lacing her fingers together. “I’ve faced your lot across the battlefield, my lord Priest, but never across a desk. I hope you’ll understand me when I say that I find our situation a great improvement.”
    “I, too,” Ulrich replied smoothly. “Few Valdemarans would have such understanding, however, I think. Or is it forgiveness?”
    “Huh.” She smiled, though, and nodded. “I don’t know about your Vkandis, sir Priest, but my particular set of gods tells me that past battles are just that; past. I am something of an amateur historian, actually. I like to know the causes of things. Some day, I expect, I’ll have the leisure to sit down with one of your scholars and find out just what started this particularly senseless war between us in the first place. For now—” she waved one hand at the door, presumably indicating the house beyond it, “—allow me to do my part to cement the peace by offering hospitality.” Her brow wrinkled for a moment, then she recited, in heavily accented and badly pronounced Karsite, “To the hearth, the board, the bed, be welcome. My fires bum to warm you, my board is laden to nourish you, my beds soft to rest you. We will share bread and be brothers.”
    Karal’s jaw dropped. The very last thing he had ever expected to hear from this woman was the traditional invocation of peace between feuding hill families!
    She smiled broadly at his open-mouthed reaction but said nothing.
    Ulrich, for his part, remained unperturbed, although Karal thought he saw his mentor’s lips twitch just a little. “For the hospitality, our thanks. Our blades are sharp to guard you, our horses strong to bear you, our torches burn to light your path. Let there be peace between us, and those of our kin.” He then added to the traditional answer, “And I do mean ‘kin’ in the broadest possible sense.”
    “I know that,” she replied. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have offered you the blessing.” She nodded, as if she had found Ulrich very satisfactory in some way. “Well, I think I’ve kept you standing here like a couple of raw recruits long enough. You’ve covered a fair amount of ground today, and I won’t keep you from your baths or beds any longer. You’ll find both waiting in your room, and my servant will show you the way.”
    And with that, the servant opened the door again, and she nodded in what was clearly a dismissal.
    It occurred to Karal that a real diplomat might have been offended at her blunt speech and curt manner, but he was just too tired to try to act like a “real diplomat.”
    Then again, anyone who would be annoyed at a soldier acting like a soldier is an idiot. No, she didn’t mean anything more or less than she said.
    Instead of trying to analyze the encounter, he followed the servant, who led them to another room on the same floor, but on a different hallway.
    It was tiled, floor and walls, with white ceramic, and contained two tubs, one a