"Defeating the Vorsag will change the taint?" he asked. She'd spoken often of tainted magic but never so specifically.
She smiled. "I don't know, but it might. The future is hard to divine, even for Aethervon."
"Aethervon?" Garranon looked at her in surprise.
"Just because Menogue lies in ruin does not mean that Aethervon forgets his promises." The Tamerlain lowered her eyes, looking more cat than bear. "In return for giving his followers Menogue, Aethervon promised the high king to look after his kingdom." Her eyes went unfocused briefly as she sniffed the air. "He is coming." She took up her more usual shape again and gave him her usual words of parting. "Fare thee well, child."
Uncertain what he should do with what she told him, Garranon sat on the rail she'd occupied and brushed at a chipped area with his thumb.
"Garranon," said Jakoven. "I remember you sitting there just so when you first came to me. What makes you so sad?"
Garranon sat upright, though the king's hand encouraged him to lean back against Jakoven's shoulder. Enough lies, he thought. They wouldn't work anyway. "Oranstone, my liege."
His answer displeased Jakoven; the hand on his shoulder tightened. "Your father abandoned you to fight for Oranstone's freedom. Abandoned you so there was no one to defend you when the soldiers came, killed your sister in front of your eyes. And they raped you and your brother, didn't they? If your father had followed his oaths, he would have been there to save you."
From you, thought Garranon with sudden violence. For a moment he was terrified he had said the words aloud. But the king's hold softened.
"You were so hurt when you came to me," Jakoven murmured. "So small and terrified. It hurt me to see you, to see the fear in your face. So I made it better," he nuzzled Garranon's neck.
Not fooled by the loverlike tones, Garranon knew the reminder of what had happened had been deliberate. Especially the reminder of his brother's fate. But his brother was in Oranstone, safe from Jakoven. Perhaps, he thought while his body responded to the king's caresses, perhaps he would join Haverness. It would be good to see his wife and lands again.
7—WARDWICK
Aethervon has always been a curious problem for devout Tallvens. If he was really a god, why did he allow the destruction of his temple? Fortunately, most Tallvens are not given to worship anything except gold so, on the whole, they aren't much troubled.
"Tell me again why we're traveling so close to Estian, Ward," said Tosten, swinging his sword my way.
"Because the best path through the mountains is straight south," I replied, parrying. "From what you said, Garranon has given up finding his brother's runaway. He'll have taken the faster road to Estian, so we won't meet him."
We were doing patterns he and I had practiced since we could hold a sword. Stala encouraged talk during patterns, said that engaging the mouth demanded the body operate from reflex. I wasn't certain of that, but I did know I didn't have to worry about him missing a link in the pattern.
"Think we'll reach Estian today?" asked Tosten, increasing the speed of his strokes so I had to as well.
"Should." I increased my speed a little more than he had.
"Wouldn't traveling have been faster if we practiced less?" he said with a gasp, but he set the pace even faster.
"Yes. But we need to be ready by the time we reach Oranstone." I managed all that without a breath and matched his speed, too. I added, "I don't want anyone kill—" gasp " — killed because they don't know how to handle a sword." To make up for the loss of breath, I quickened again. From the corner of my eye, I saw the others had stopped fighting to watch.
"Why does Ward look faster?" I heard Bastilla ask.
"Because he is." Axiel's voice carried satisfaction like a proud father's. "He has a longer distance to move to meet Tosten's blows. That's why a big man is almost always slower than a small man."
"It always surprises me to see Ward fight," added Oreg. "He always talks slowly—sounds almost stupid, even when he's not trying to appear that way. Moves that way, too."
"No," Axiel disagreed. "He just moves well. It usually makes him look slow, like Penrod's gelding. Fastest horse in the bunch, but he looks as if he's traveling half the speed of the others." He raised his voice, "Ward, Tosten, slow down. Someone's going to get hurt."
"Want to really show them?" asked Tosten, grinning. The expression took me aback. He'd never been given to a quick smile.
"What do you have in mind?" It would have to be quick, because I couldn't keep the pace up much longer.
"Close your eyes."
Stala had us do that. We all used wooden blades and full armor so that, barring total incompetence, the worse risk was a nasty bruise. Usually, she blindfolded only one of the sparring partners and the patterns were taken at half speed.
"You, too?" I asked.
He closed his in answer, so I did also, and neither of us slowed the pattern. The worst thing about closing my eyes was that it always threw my balance off until I got used to it. On the other hand, it increased my focus immeasurably. The greatest sensory input came from my sword, until I almost felt like Tosten's sword was hitting my arm instead of the silver blade. It was exhilarating, better than running down the cliffside on Feather—and about as smart.
We kept it up until I heard a raggedness in the rhythm of metal on metal; one or both of us was tiring. "Done on three," I whispered.
"One," he said as softly.
"Two," I replied.
"Three," he said.
I jumped back out of range and opened my eyes to see that he had done the same. Dizzy with the sudden addition of sight to my heightened senses, I had to sit on the ground before I fell.
"Idiots," said Axiel. "That kind of horseplay will get you killed."
Tosten and I exchanged unrepentant grins, and I felt the old bond of brotherhood settle over us for the first time in a long while.
Our attitude didn't help Axiel's temper. "I told Stala that blindfolding was stupid. It encourages the steran to do stupid stunts like that display."
Feeling less dizzy, I rolled back to my feet and held out my sword to Axiel, as a repentant student is supposed to do.
He shook his head in refusal but gave me a reluctant chuckle. "I wouldn't have missed it for all the sheep in Hurog—but don't you tell anyone."
"What's a steran?" asked Oreg, with such innocence in his voice that I looked at him sharply. He was pointing out something to me, but I didn't know what it was.
"Foolish young boys," answered Axiel with such well-concealed discomfort I might not have noticed without Oreg sharpening my attention. I knew several languages, as any lord who lived in the Kingdoms had to. Steran wasn't a word I was familiar with.
"Fretsome old dwarf," taunted Oreg softly.
Axiel's face set, but before he could say anything, Tosten jumped in, as he did at every opportunity to attack Oreg. "Poor-mannered bastard," he said. "You need to show respect to your elders."
A look of unholy glee spread across Oreg's face.
"Time to break camp," Axiel said abruptly. It was the first order he'd given outside of the morning and evening exercises. It might have been to keep Oreg and Tosten from fighting, but I wondered if it was Oreg's remark about dwarves.
I thought about pursuing the matter but reluctantly decided to leave Axiel to his own counsel. He'd earned that much by his long years of service to my family. Besides, I never liked playing someone else's games, not even Oreg's. Just how unlikely was it that Axiel's father was a dwarf? About as unlikely as Oreg being as old as Hurog. I could accept dwarven blood; it was the other part that I would choose to disbelieve. When he was really, really drunk, he claimed his father was the dwarven king.