The girl smirked, no doubt contemplating the prospect of Celebre without Cutrath.
Poppy uttered a snort almost as loud as Guthlag's snores, apparently indicating disbelief. "Does that explain why your purchases from the harbor master included a packet of marsh calabar seeds?"
Ingeld suspected that the old lady's obvious dislike of Horth stemmed from frustrated nosiness. If Veslih and Xaran could block the seers' sight, it was a reasonable assumption that Ucr could.
"Not a fatal dose," the merchant retorted blandly.
"Physic may have unpredictable effects in the Edgelands."
"Just what is marsh whatever-you-said?" asked Benard from the floor.
"A medicinal herb. In excess it causes a severe loss of muscle tone, which can last for half a year or longer. Crossing the Edge is a severe test of endurance. Furthermore, in males, calabar may cause prolonged penile dysfunction."
Horth, Ingeld was pleased to see, was carefully not looking in her direction. She would just hate for him to catch her eye and drop dead. She would strangle him later.
Minx Fabia smirked shamelessly.
Poppy continued her interrogation. "In your private conversation with the harbor master, you questioned him at length about Varakats."
"Varakats?" Horth repeated vaguely. "There is nothing illegal in discussing Varakats, is there? A very beautiful mountain, I am told. My eyes are not what they used to be." Most people when threatened turned either very red or very pale. This little man remained unruffled, maintaining his mousy pose—which the seer obviously thought concealed a rat.
"That depends on what is discussed. You also asked about High Timber. You were trying to lay a false trail to mislead us Witnesses and hence divert Satrap Therek tomorrow."
"I wish you two would speak a language I understand," Benard grumbled.
Horth inclined his head to the Witness, deferring to her.
"There are two passes over the Edge," she said. "The Nardalborg Pass is the closer, and the kings of Tryfors taxed trade on it, although there was never much. When Stralg was preparing to move a horde to Florengia, many years ago, he naturally chose the pass nearer the city, where he could billet his men, and it is now a Werist highway, much improved. The other pass has been officially forgotten, but traders still use it. Master Wigson and his accomplices have been running a huge smuggling industry over it for years."
"You do not trade in slaves, I hope?" Benard demanded.
"Slaves can tell tales, Hand." Wigson at last protested against Poppy's inquisition, although still in the same mild tones: "Are you seeking to blackmail me, Witness? I fail to see what relevance Varakats has to this meeting."
"What relevance did it have to you, tonight? You discovered you could not release Fabia from captivity and it was unlikely you could even pass her the calabar and other nasty devices you had collected for her. So you were going to run away to High Timber. You hoped that the satrap's men would follow your trail and discover the rebel threat. That would distract Therek thoroughly, and delay the caravan's departure until after the winter. This was a massive betrayal of your friends."
"That is unfair!" Fabia shouted. "Horth was kidnapped, too, as a hostage for my good behavior. I would have been very happy if he had escaped. That would not have increased my danger in any way; it would have helped me. How long do you think Saltaja was going to keep him alive once she sent me off over the pass, anyway?"
Poppy sniffed. "I understand his desire to escape. I cannot stomach his betrayal of Varakats and High Timber."
"You do me wrong, Witness," Wigson said, still speaking softly. "I was investigating options. Learning that the Varakats Pass is still open, I was contemplating the possibility of hiring a party of dissident Werists from High Timber and sending them over the Edge to rescue Frena on the far side."
Benard jumped as if an idea had just hit the inside of his skull. He whipped around to look up at Ingeld with delight—Horold would never think to look for her in Florengia! At times she was unhappily reminded how young her lover was. What did it matter if she was pregnant and there was a war raging on the far side of the pass? She smiled and nodded.
Mist intervened with a chuckle. "I think that's enough. We all play for the same team. If we Maynists try to withdraw our support of the Fist, his men will retaliate with violence. The Eldest could announce a date when we should all remove our veils and vanish. We would have to abandon the Ivory Cloisters and generations of labor on the Wisdom—but it could be done. Our new Eldest, LeAmber, follows her predecessor in refusing to issue the command, and no one else has authority to do so. If we dissidents provoke the split, we shall bring down the Werists' wrath on all our sisters who remain on duty. Tryfors may seem a strange place to launch a revolution ... You disagree, Master Wigson!"
"I can think of counterarguments."
"Such as?"
The trader smiled. "Fords, passes, crossroads—these are all strategic places. I know you seers can read a sealed tablet, so I assume you monitor Stralg's correspondence on its way through here. Then you lecture me on betrayal?"
Again Mist laughed, breaking the tension. "Leave ethics for another day! It has taken Saltaja an amazingly long time to appreciate that, where once Stralg could promise the Heroes glory and loot, the trip over the Edge has now become a one-way road to the Old One's cold embrace. The new initiates were duped as boys and are doomed as young men. They cannot shed their collars, but they can seek out a leader who offers better hope than that. His name is Arbanerik Kranson. His horde is called New Dawn, and is camped at High Timber, not far from here. Saltaja would give both arms for that information!
"We are not required to volunteer information to Stralg's agents, and over the years most of us have become extremely skilled at deceiving without actually lying. However, when Saltaja read Stralg's first dispatches this spring, she decided to make a personal tour of inspection—escorting Fabia was incidental—and that decision was a critical turning point, what we refer to as a 'weft.' We sensed it like a clap of thunder. The journey opened her eyes to the fact that the numbers did not add up, that at least a third of the reinforcements being sent to aid the bloodlord were never reaching Nardalborg.
"Even at Kosord we still managed to hide the details from her, but after that her own guards began deserting. This afternoon she had Therek summon a seer. I knew the moment had come, so I answered the call, and I lied. I told her that the New Dawn rebels were mustering at Nuthervale and I grossly understated their number. I gave False Witness, and for that I shall be expelled from the mystery. I broke my most sacred oath, but I feel no shame or guilt."
Ingeld said, "In my opinion it is long overdue. Without the seers' complicity, Stralg and his hateful gang would have all died years ago."
"So it wasn't Father!" Fabia said. "When the Werists disappeared on the way here? It wasn't Father helping, it was you!"
Mist chuckled. "It was the riverfolk. They receive a bounty for every willing deserter delivered to High Timber. We need not discuss where that silver comes from—agreed, Master Wigson?"
"Um? No." Horth seemed to be preoccupied in studying Fabia.
Benard grunted. "I always thought Witnesses couldn't lie."
"Oh, we can sin as well as you can. We can only do it once, though."
An uncomfortable silence settled on the room. Everyone there except Fabia was a henotheist, sworn to a mystery, and they were all breaking faith. Ingeld herself had broken her vows—in spirit if not in word—when she had invited Benard to father her child and then fled, the city with him. Benard was neglecting his art, Guthlag had broken faith with his lord, and perhaps Horth Wigson was breaking oaths to Ucr by pursuing Fabia's happiness instead of simply amassing wealth. Now the seers, too!