“If.” Vanyel shook his head. “There's no guarantee of that.”
:And what about later?: Yfandes prompted :After this crusade is over?:
:Good point.: “We use magic openly in Valdemar, sanctioned and supported by the Crown,” Van continued. “If this crusade doesn't burn itself out, if in fact it is sanctioned by the Karsite Crown, where does that leave us?”
“The deadliest of enemies,” Everet answered grimly. “It will be worse than before; it will become a holy war.”
Arved groaned, and closed his eyes for a moment. “You're right,” he said, finally. “You're absolutely right. And if that situation occurs, there's nothing we can do to stop it.”
“What we need now is information,” Vanyel told them. “And that's my department. I'll get on it. Whatever happens, we'll have a respite from Karsite incursions for a couple of weeks while they get their own house in order. We should use that respite to our own advantage.”
“Good,” Arved said, shaking back his tawny hair. “Let's take this in manageable chunks. Herald Vanyel, you get us that information, and find out what the King wants us to do with refugees. We'll see what we can do to use this involuntary truce. Tomorrow we'll put together plans to cover all the contingencies we can think of. Everet-”
“I'll be making myself conspicuous in the Vkanda enclaves,” the Archpriest said, rising from his seat. “You'll have to go on without me. I think I'd better leave as soon as I can pack.”
:He's going to be out of here within two candlemarks,: Yfandes said. :He travels light.:
“Lord Everet, I'll have a document from Randale for you before you leave, authorizing you to take whatever actions you think necessary with the followers of Vkanda,” Vanyel said. “Please don't leave without it.”
Everet paused in midturn, and half-smiled. “Thank you, Herald. I would have gone charging off trusting in my office and so-called 'sanctity,' forgetting that neither apply to the Guard.”
“Nor some highborn,” the Lord Marshal reminded him. “And unless I miss my guess, there'll be one or two of those among the Sunlord's followers.”
“Gentlemen, the Archpriest and I will get to our duties, and we'll leave you to work on this in our absence,” Vanyel told them. He and Everet pushed their chairs aside and left the Council Chamber, going in opposite directions once they reached the door.
Randi first, then get in touch with Kera. ... he thought, then Mindsent, :'Fandes, can you boost me that far?: knowing she'd been watching his surface thoughts.
:If not, we can at least reach someone stationed near the Border to relay.: She sounded quite confident, and Van relaxed a little. :We'll have inside information shortly. And don't worry about Kera - thanks to that new Web we wove, if she was in trouble, we'd know. One of us would, anyway.:
:Thanks, love.: He'd reached the door to Randale's quarters, and was such a familiar sight to the guards that one of them had already pushed the door open for him.
He thanked the man with a nod, and slipped inside.
Most of the time Randale was cold, so the room was as hot as a desert, with a fire in the fireplace despite the fact that it was full summer. The King lay on a day-bed beside the fire, bundled up in a blanket, Shavri on a stool beside him; he looked exhausted, but the pain lines about his mouth and eyes were mercifully few.
Those eyes were closed, but he wasn't sleeping. Vanyel saw his lids flutter a little the moment before he spoke. “So,” he said quietly. “What's sent you flying out of the Council Chamber this time? Good news, or bad?”
“Wish I could tell you,” Vanyel replied, dropping down beside the bed, and putting one hand on Shavri's shoulder. She brushed her cheek briefly against it, but didn't let go of Randale's hand. Van touched her dark, gypsy-tumble of curls for a moment, then turned his full attention back to the King. “We just got a messenger from the Border and the Karsites have just confirmed my belief that they're all completely mad.”
He outlined the situation as quickly as he could, while Randale listened, with his eyes still closed. The King had long ago shaved off his beard, saying it no longer hid anything and made him look like the business end of a mop, he'd grown so thin. That was the day he'd finally acknowledged his illness, and the fact that he was never going to recover from it; the day Van had been reassigned permanently and indefinitely to the Palace.
All of Randale that could be seen, under the swathings of blankets, were his head and hands. Both were emaciated and colorless; even Randale's hair was an indeterminate shade of brown. Herald Joshe, who was something of an artist, had remarked sadly that the King was like an under-painting, all bones and shadows.
But there was nothing wrong with his mind, and he demonstrated that he'd inherited his grandmother's good sense.
“Rethwellan,” he said, after listening to Vanyel. “They have mages in their bloodline; if Karse starts an anti-mage campaign, they'll be in as much danger as we. Get Arved to draft up some letters to Queen Lythiaren, feeling her out and offering alliance.” He paused a moment. “Tell him to word those carefully; she doesn't entirely trust me right now after that mess with the Amarites.”
“It wasn't your fault,” Vanyel protested, as Shavri stroked her lifebonded's forehead. Randale opened his eyes and smiled slightly.
“I know that, but she can't admit it,” he replied. “Have we got a 'limited powers' declaration around here somewhere? You'll need one for Everet.”
“I think so,” Vanyel answered, and got to his feet. After a moment of checking through the various drawers, he found what he was looking for - a pre-inscribed document assigning limited powers of the Crown, with blanks for the person and the circumstances. There was always pen, ink, and blotter waiting on the desk; in another moment Vanyel had filled in the appropriate blank spaces.
“Good, let me see it.” Randale read it carefully, as he always did. “Your usual thorough and lawyerlike job, Van.” He looked up at Vanyel, and smiled. “I hope you brought the pen with you.”
“I did.” Vanyel laid the bottom of the document over a book and held both so that Randale could initial the appropriate line. Blowing on the ink to dry it more quickly, he took the paper over to the desk and affixed the Seal of the Monarch. “What about the mages coming across the Border?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Unhindered passage via guarded trade-road into Rethwellan,” Randale told him. “But I don't want to offer them sanctuary. This would be a good opportunity for Karse to get an agent into Valdemar. We can't know which are blameless, which are hirelings, and which are spies. Send them on, unless one of them happens to get Chosen.”
“Not likely.” Vanyel left the paper where it was, and returned to Randale's side. “How has today been?”
“Shavri's beginning to understand what it is that young Bard of yours actually does,” Randale replied. “She's able to do a bit more for me. But yesterday was bad, I'd rather not give audiences today, because I don't think I can get past the door right now. No strength left.”
Vanyel touched his shoulder; Randale sighed, and covered Vanyel's hand with his own. “Then don't try,” Van said quietly. “Anything more I should do about Karse?”