A mask over what, one wonders....
Alberich forced himself to be charitable. All he saw was a frown, which might have been occasioned by anything. That Orthallen didn't approve of anyone as young as Selenay being privy to every bit of war planning going on. That Orthallen didn't like the prospect of a Queen instead of a King. That Orthallen didn't approve of a female being involved in war planning. That Orthallen had indigestion.
Perhaps not that last, although being on the doorstep of the final campaign of a nasty war was enough to give anyone worse than indigestion.
The likeliest was that Orthallen had suddenly been confronted with the fact that he would one day be serving a Queen instead of a King. And given the urgency of the current situation, "one day" might be a great deal closer than he thought. And he didn't like the prospect.
It had been some time since Valdemar had had a Queen; there wasn't anyone now alive who remembered the last one—it had been a good long time, after all, and she had been a co-Consort, ruling with her King, Sendar's grandfather.
Sendar's Queen, who'd had no interest in being co-Consort, had died when Selenay was a mere infant, and Orthallen had a good reason to be wary of the problems associated with a female ruler. Women did die in childbirth, and even if Selenay wedded someone Chosen, who could be a co-Consort, there could be trouble if she died; the Kingdom had been left to the Council to rule while Sendar had gotten over his beloved wife's death. If that had happened when there was a crisis like this one looming, the result could have been a disaster.
Could have been, but would not have been. Perhaps Orthallen couldn't understand that; he wasn't a Herald, he didn't know what deep wells of comfort the Companions were, and he might not understand just how totally Heralds were driven by duty. If Sendar had had to deal with a crisis, even in the moment of his beloved's death, he would have. That he gave himself over to mourning was only because he knew he had the luxury of doing so.
Nevertheless, Alberich did not like that frown on Orthallen's face; there was something about Orthallen's expression that he couldn't pin down, and his instincts said it was more than just one older man concerned about the possibilities that a young woman Heir represented.
It must have come as a distinct shock to him, seeing her here, seeing her being briefed instead of being sent to a tent to rest. It's one thing to see "the child" sitting at a Council table, it's quite a different thing to see her sitting here. After all, just because Selenay had a Council seat, it didn't follow that she was truly a part of the Council's deliberations. The seat could have been nothing more than show, for certainly Selenay's vote went with her father's every time. Given Orthallen's patronizing attitude toward the Heir, the shock of realizing that she was a power to be reckoned with and had a mind of her own must have been unpleasant. But was it unpleasant enough to cause that particular kind of frown? It hadn't been the look of a man surprised and a little offended; it had been the expression, calculating and angry, of one who had not realized that there was a roadblock to his plans. Or so Alberich thought, but everything he thought he'd observed was all in retrospect, for the expression hadn't been there more than a moment. It was distinctly frustrating not to be able to quantify his feelings, but since he'd been working in the slums of Haven, his instincts had sharpened, and he'd come to depend on what they told him.
Therefore, he would keep an eye on Lord Orthallen.
So he delegated a portion of his mind to doing just that, and turned the rest of his attention back to the briefing that Sendar was getting. The Lord Marshal and his Herald Joyeaus were getting to the end of things Alberich already knew, and they looked as if there was more to say. A great deal more. And that it was bad news.
"The ForeSeers are reporting difficulty, Majesty, as are the FarSeers," Herald Joyeaus said. Her thin face was set in an expression of solemn thoughtfulness, for this development was something new—though not unexpected, at least, not to Alberich. The fact was, he was surprised that it had taken so long for the Tedrels to block attempts to FarSee what they were doing. Possibly they had not realized that the Heralds could do such a thing with the amount of accuracy they had.
Possibly they had been blocking attempts to scry magically, and had not until now reckoned on the Gifts. Possibly they had been saving their mages for this moment.
Or possibly it had taken them this long to buy or coerce magical expertise....
It seemed to take the rest by surprise, though, all but the Lord Marshal, who looked grim. "Exactly what do you mean by 'difficulty,' Joyeaus?" Sendar asked.
Joyeaus' mask didn't slip, but Alberich didn't have to be an Empath to know that she was very worried. "As you know, Majesty, my own strongest Gift is FarSeeing, and although when I Look elsewhere I have no difficulties, when I Look across the Border, I might as well be Looking into fog. In concert with two others, I made further attempts, but we managed no more than glimpses, which were confusing at best. The ForeSeers tell me that they are unable to See anything when they attempt to scry into the future—"
"But as we all know, Foreseeing is chancy at best," Sendar finished for her. "The most probable answer to that is that there are so many possibilities branching from this moment that they are unable to see even one clearly. I am more concerned by the report from the FarSeers. Can FarSeeing be blocked?"
Officers and Councilors began murmuring nervously among themselves and shifting their weight. Alberich pulled at his collar, feeling stifled suddenly and wondering if he was the only one who found the rising tension in the tent to be edging close to panic.
"I—" Joyeaus hesitated. Alberich was astonished that she did so. How could she not know that it could be blocked? How could she not have expected that enemy mages would do so? And yet, from the way she looked, and the way Sendar acted, it seemed that the possibility had never even occurred to them.
Alberich didn't want to step out of the shadows and draw attention to himself, but he didn't seem to have a choice. No one else saw the blindingly obvious. He cleared his throat; the sound was shocking in the silence that had followed Sendar's question. Every head in the tent swiveled in his direction.
"Herald Alberich?" Sendar prompted.
"Senior, high-rank Sunpriests, such powers have," he said carefully. "And unscrupulous others with magic for hire are, in the Southern Kingdoms. Among the Tedrels, there may be magicians, though specifically I have not of such heard."
They looked at him as if he had spoken in Karsite, not Valdemaran. Maybe in a way he had. He cursed his lack of fluency, and the need to speak without composing what he was going to say.
He tried again, this time coming directly to the point. "Assume you must, that others than Heralds Gifted are. Surely Sunpriests are, for this I know! Surely Tedrels are, for they are a nation, and some must Gifted be! Yes. Blocked your Gifts can be!"
Joyeaus blinked, and looked as if she was coming out of a daze. "He's right, Majesty," she said. "We have been remiss in assuming that only Heralds are Gifted—and that just because we don't know ways of blocking Gifts, it doesn't follow that someone else hasn't found a way."