He was using it now to answer her, voice softly breaking the companionable silence. "Much warmer, and gladly so. We are sadly out of the habit of thanking each other properly, we Tesmers-probably because fitting occasions for gratitude among us are so few-but let me thank you now, Lyss. You were… magnificent."
She gave him a real smile in return, making sure the moonlight was full on her face so he could see she'd laid aside her usual arch, ready-to-pounce manner, and told him, "Thank you, Bel. So were you. Consider yourself welcome in these arms any time.
Belard Tesmer ducked his head, doing something he'd not done in four seasons of wenching, facing down angry husbands, and sparring with rivals: he flushed, the blood rising to his face dark and swift. Then he nodded to cover his sudden lack of words.
Utterly relaxed, Talyss kept her instinctive little smile of satisfaction off her face. Hooked. As every man was, yes, but she must treat Bel differently, or ruin his usefulness to her.
"Let us speak of plots once more," she said gently, letting reluctance taint her voice. "Do you agree-in the main-with these admittedly over-simple assessments of our parents? Father is a weak fool, utterly ruled by Mother, and she-for all the fearsome reputation Falconfar accords her-is a blinded-by-ambition schemer who will sacrifice everyone and everything to get more power for herself, no matter what the cost to the family, to Ironthorn, or for that matter to all Falconfar?"
Belard smiled mirthlessly, and nodded his head. "I cannot help but agree. I would have agreed with you seven summers ago, or more. How matters stand between Lord and Lady Tesmer is not something all that hard for anyone to see."
"And where will knowing this obvious state of things profit us, if we seek to govern all affairs Tesmer?"
"That control over Mother is essential, control she does not see as taking power from her or frustrating her will and rule. Rather, successful control must come through arranging events and what she learns of them to appear to offer her greater and greater power, so she does and decrees what we want her to as likely steps in her own reaching for more power."
Talyss nodded. "Well said." She reached out wordlessly for the flask.
"Yet so much is obvious," Belard murmured, returning it to her. "Our brothers and sisters know it, the lowest of our servants knows it-even the dead Lords Hammerhand and Lyrose knew it. How can we use this, that all know, to move Mother and therefore all Tesmer the way we desire-yet not get caught at it?"
"There's where you struck the shield-wall, brother, and saw no way past it, yes?"
"Yes," Belard admitted. "Wherefore I risked…"
"Much, and more when you got here and I gave you my smile," Talyss said quietly, taking a swift swallow that sent fresh comforting fire down her throat. "I value that more than you can probably believe, Bel. You're not the only one who knows loneliness as a knife that's never far away, and ever sharp and cruel."
Belard chuckled. "Even our brothers and sisters would be surprised to hear these words from us, so well do we play our parts; me the rake, and you the claws-always-out cat, both of us too eager to hurt, in our separate ways, to feel hurts."
Talyss let her catlike smile reach her lips this time. "Yes, and we must use their judgments of us to give us chances to do the unexpected. Our first chance must be good, and we must use it, mind. Mother's no fool; the slightest hint that we're working together-or that either of us is able to step out of being what the world sees us to be-will have her watching us sharper than the Falcon itself. We-"
She broke off, looking up sharply, as dry branches snapped underfoot not far off in the forest.
Their wards started to sing, that rising note of resistance to an intruder, and on its heels sounded the crackle of dead leaves, crushed under foot or paw by something moving forcefully. Something the size of a hunting cat, or a man.
Belard was on his feet with sword in hand, bent forward to get out of the moonlight and try to peer into the night-drenched forest.
They heard a stifled curse-a man, trying to keep his oath to a whisper-and more snappings of trodden dead wood. By then Talyss had snatched up her own slender sword and the best-balanced of her poisoned knives, and had the smaller fang poised for throwing.
The wards were almost shrieking now, the shrill sound they made when fighting someone who had his own magic to counter them.
For the intruder, striding closer to the hollow would be like wading upstream against a strong current, or forcing his way onward through a biting wind-not the stabbing pain the wards would force on the unprotected, where to advance far enough would be to die.
Belard felt for his boots. Seeing him made Talyss look for her own, and-
Light was blazing up in the darkness now, the wards starting to burn with the fires that both warned ward-owners and seared imprudent intruders. Most men would have turned back long since, and many of the rest would be screaming by now, plunged into agony by the flames streaming over them.
They could see him, or rather his outline, trudging rather unsteadily toward them through the thick trees. One man alone, hands apparently empty…
"Forestmother, defend me!" he declaimed, in the manner of a priest.
Boots on but otherwise still stark naked, Belard Tesmer strode to the edge of the hollow, sword raised and ready. "Halt," he snapped, "or die."
The burning man, who must not be feeling the flames, to have a voice so free of pain, never slowed.
"We all die, lord," he replied calmly, "and I would rather speak to you-both of you-than flee emptyhanded. Put up your sword; I mean you no harm."
Belard shot a look at Talyss, who nodded, and gestured with her sword that he should let the stranger come.
Or not-stranger; she knew that voice. She couldn't place it, just yet, but she'd heard it a time or three before, she knew she had… in Ironthorn, of course, yet who-
Belard backed away, and a man came staggering down into the hollow, the ward-flames falling away from him into nothingness as he reached the protected area within the wards.
As he came out through the lowest, still-dancing boughs-the limbs overhead were thick, as large in some spots as some full-grown trees along the banks of the Imrush-the moonlight fell full upon him, and both Tesmers gaped in astonishment.
They were staring at Cauldreth Jaklar, the Lord Leaf of Hammerhold. He looked bedraggled and grim, and his hands were empty. He raised them in a palms-out "I'm unarmed" gesture, and came to a halt amid their discarded garments.
"Lord and Lady Tesmer," he said, shooting swift looks at both of them, keeping his eyes carefully on their faces, his own face betraying no opinion at all about their lack of dress and likely reason for that, "I am pleased to have found you this night, for I have an offer to make to you that should please you both and lead to a bright future for Ironthorn."
Belard took a step forward and brought his sword up. "Priest," he snapped, "how did you know we were here?"
"I… you are in the forest, and I serve the Forestmother, who told me where you could be found."
"And why did you want to find us?" Talyss asked silkily, stepping back so moonlight no longer reached her raised arm, and the knife held ready to hurl in it.
"I need your aid, and your talents. Ironthorn needs your aid and talents."
"Oh?" Belard snapped, taking another menacing step forward. "Ironthorn's been slow to say so, thus far!"
"Lord Tesmer," Jaklar said quickly, stepping back and to one side, "please hear me! I can hurl spells to strike you both down, yet have not! Please! Hear me out!"
"Speak," Talyss commanded. The priest's sidestep had brought him closer to her, yet she was mindful of his winning his way so swiftly through their combined wards. He was protected by his own magic, and it might serve to turn aside blades. Or even send hurled ones back at the one who'd thrown them.