For whatever reason, the Sunlord had elected to permit the Sunpriests to act as they were. Only He knew what was in His mind. Alberich could speculate, but—
Here was the truth of it alclass="underline" who was he that Vkandis should appear to him to absolve him of his oaths? Only one man in exile, one man who could only prove his faith by remaining faithful....
:Chosen—: Kantor said suddenly, interrupting his thought. :Let me ask you this. Suppose, just suppose, that you were not bound by those oaths. What would you do in that case, if you were completely free to do what you wished to do?:
What would he do? :I haven't thought about it, haven't even considered it. There was no reason to,: he replied honestly. And, then answered just as honestly, :If I were free, I would aid all those agents without a moment of hesitation. I'd go myself, if the Council could be persuaded to trust me. In fact, I'd demand to go —:
:Why?: Kantor interjected. :Why would you demand to go?:
That was an easy question to answer, for it was the sum of all of his turmoil. :Because no one born and raised in Valdemar could ever be so careful of the lives of the children of Karse as I, No one but I would care enough to take the extra effort to be sure no harm came to them.:
Alberich was no Empath, but the sudden flood of triumph that welled up from Kantor was a thing so tangible that it felt like the beams of the rising sun, reaching upward into the heavens at dawn. It so surprised him that he felt stunned, too shocked for words.
But Kantor had words enough for him.
:Then, Chosen, Alberich, Herald of Valdemar and Captain of Karse—make more of you! Make them out of the Heralds that Talamir brings to you! Give them not only the things that Talamir wants, but the memories, good and ill, that have made you what you are! Do that—and they will be as tender of Karsite lives as you, and you could ask for no better stewards in your absence.:
He lay blinking for a long moment as the sense of that penetrated. Then he closed his eyes and considered the advice from every possible angle.
And he could find no flaw in it. What better thing could he do for his people than this? How could it violate his oath to create more protectors of his people? Kantor was right. Kantor was right!
Relief flooded into him with such force that he felt dizzy with it, and he clutched the sides of the narrow bed as it seemed to move beneath him. And when the feeling of release ebbed a little, he felt his face wet with unexpected tears—
Oh, my people—oh, my beloved people—I can send you protectors to take my place at last, at long last!
He rubbed the tears away with his sleeve, swiftly controlled himself, and realized that the murmur of voices in the other room had not stilled. Dethor and Talamir, Sunlord bless them, were still deep in their plans, searching for answers—
:—trying to find a way to persuade you without pressuring you—: Kantor pointed out.
Yes. They would be. They had been as careful of his honor as he was. More, perhaps, because they did not understand the reasons behind what he did, they only honored his conviction that he needed to do them.
He got out of bed; it wouldn't be the first time he'd rejoined a discussion while in a nightshirt and sleeping trews. He made his way to the doorway of the sitting room, and stood there a moment, silent, seeing again the strain, the care, the burden of duty weighing both of them down.
At least this time he'd be able to lift some of that, not add to it.
He cleared his throat, and they looked up, startled.
"I believe, my brothers," he said, with a nod to both of them that acknowledged their kinship without unnecessary words, "I believe, help you I can. And must. So speak you with your Healers, and tell them, Alberich of Karse wishes this, most devoutly."
He waited just long enough to enjoy the look of stunned shock and amazement on both their faces. Then he turned and made his way back to his bed—there to enjoy the first untroubled night of sleep he'd had since the Tedrel Wars began.
10
THE MindHealers, with one adventurous exception, were not happy about the plan, which was not really a surprise. Alberich did not give a toss whether they were happy about what he was doing. All he cared about was that they had agreed to the project.
The Heralds he had recruited for his agents were a diverse lot; four of them, which was all he would risk on this venture. He didn't know any of them well, which was another good reason for having chosen them. Three of them were too old for him to have trained, and the fourth had been so average that he was entirely unmemorable. One sun-weathered, dark-haired man who was a tinker, and thus had all the skills to pass successfully as a Karsite tinker. One, in his late middle-age years, was from a family of herdsman, and thus able to pass as another goatherd who had been displaced from his home in the hills by the war. In fact, he could probably make a fine case for having had his herds confiscated by the Tedrels, leaving him with nothing but the meager possessions he could carry on his own back. The third was a youngster, a lad who had just gotten his Whites—but he had three advantages. First, he was from a forester family just on the Border near Burning Pines. Second, he had been an orphan, forced to take responsibility for himself from an early age. As a consequence, he acted more like a young man in his late twenties than one just barely eighteen. And thirdly—thirdly, he was smart. He had a strongly developed sense for self-preservation; he thought before he said or did anything. He, of all of them, was the likeliest to be recruited by the Tedrels themselves and the most likely of anyone who had volunteered to be able to keep his head and stay plausible when within their ranks. There was something to be said for being the type that has been knocking about in the world before becoming a Herald, in this case.
The fourth was a woman as old as the old man; she would try to get taken on as a laundress or cook. Alberich didn't hold out much hope for that, but if she could, well, an old woman would hear a lot from the Tedrel camp followers. Even if the Tedrels themselves didn't speak to women, the recruits were of the type that wouldn't be able to keep their mouths shut.
None of them would have their Companions with them; all of them were confident that their Companions could stay out of sight, but within call, so if things began to look the least bit dangerous, they could get out of the camp and escape before suspicion mounted to certainty.
Alberich was quite certain of one thing, at least. When they were done with these sessions, they would be Karsite, or he would call a halt to the whole scheme. That was how he had sold his plan to the MindHealers; he had to wonder how much they really understood what he meant, but he had to take a chance somewhere.
No one knew how this was going to work, but the MindHealer who had agreed to mediate the experiment had some ideas of his own that he wasn't inclined to share with anyone, not even Alberich. He had only promised this much: if what he planned worked, the Heralds were not going to get Alberich's memories, per se, and Alberich was not going to be reliving his own memories. "I won't say anything more," he'd repeated stubbornly, no matter who asked him or how many times he was asked. "I don't want anyone going into this with any preconceptions to muddle things up. If this works, it will work very well indeed."