The Pathfinder obviously enjoyed lecturing, but he would not dare use this tone to a Werist if he were not a friend of the huntleader. “At Nardalborg, you start with mammoths. On Varakats Pass the merchants use canoes to carry provisions up the Milky. Either way, you cache food upcountry before the caravan proper even leaves. Huntleader Heth has spent years building shelters and bridges. In either case you come to an end. Neither mammoths nor canoes can climb First Ice. From there you must use human muscle. So you set off from the trail head and after ten days you run out of food. No? Of course not. You build a pyramid. You start with thirty men, say, and after four days twenty of them drop their loads and head back. The other ten carry on, taking the extra rations the others left. They can go another ten days before they start to starve, which is still only fourteen days from the trail head. So you really needed to begin with sixty men, didn’t you? Or twice that? Or four times? In the end a very few have enough food to complete the journey. Nardalborg has tallymen who can work it out, allowing for bad weather and men dying of Ice sickness. Understand? Nardalborg has done all that work ahead of time on the Nardalborg Pass. You have not provisioned Varakats Pass and therefore it is not presently passable.”
Orlad was flushed with fury. “We have the men! Didn’t the hordeleader say to give us all the help possible?”
“I can’t command the Pathfinders,” Nils said unhappily.
Hermesk smirked as if the quarry had just stepped into his trap. “Men, yes, but you have no canoes. The merchants took them when they set off seaward to trade their goods. Even if you did, we do not have time. It takes at least a thirty to set up a caravan, and by then winter will be upon us.”
“The witness speaks the truth,” Dantio murmured.
Orlad bared teeth at him in a silent snarl.
“There has to be a way,” Fabia said. They must catch Saltaja before she linked up with Stralg!
The Pathfinder laughed. “Do tell us.”
“I’m just the pretty little woman. You’re the expert. You tell me. Or you, Orlad. You say we cannot go around Nardalborg. The Pathfinder says we cannot go over Varakats. Suppose New Dawn takes Nardalborg, or surrounds it-”
“Puts it under siege?” Orlad said.
“Yes. Couldn’t we follow Saltaja over Nardalborg Pass?”
Orlad rolled his eyes to indicate that women should not meddle in manly matters.
Dantio said, “If Saltaja does attempt the pass, she will close it behind her, to prevent pursuit. She will leave no supplies. She may even tear down the bridges and burn the shelters. Here comes the Speaker.”
Fabia turned to watch the newcomer stride in the door. Night was falling fast and he was muffled in Speakers’ black, from his hood to the hem of the ankle-length robe swirling around his boots. She had met more than enough Speakers in Skjar. Without exception they had been sour, joyless, literal-minded people who would win any argument with a quotation from the Arcana, usually expressed in a tongue so ancient than no one else could understand it. A Speaker’s only virtue was absolute incorruptibility, which was both his blessing and his corban. In theory a Speaker would even sentence himself to death-but only in theory, because he would never be guilty of a crime.
“Speaker Ardial Berkson,” the huntleader announced, and even he gave way, stepping aside to let the newcomer take the place of honor beside the fireplace.
Only then did Ardial throw back his hood. Unsurprisingly, his face was narrow and bony, scored by deep lines. Also, he was tall and lean. Speakers always were, because holy Demern forbade gluttony. This one was elderly, with a striking mane of white hair. He would be handsome if he could seem just a little more human.
“Good of you to come, Speaker,” Nils said. “Daughter Ingeld, dynast of Kosord, wishes you to conduct her marriage to-”
“That is not possible, Huntleader.” Predictably, Ardial spoke with a sonorous orator’s voice. “The years have been kind to you, Ingeld.”
Ingeld’s face was stark with horror and pale as bone.
Benard said, “What? What’s wrong?” and started to rise. She clung to him, pulling him back down.
“What’s wrong is that she is already married,” the Speaker said. “Release my wife, young man.”
Orlad stood up. “Is that so?” Instantly seven other Werists sprang up also and menace echoed through the mess hall.
“That is so,” the Speaker said calmly. “Sit down, boy. All of you boys sit. I am still her husband and rightful state consort of Kosord. Are you incapable of speech, wife?”
Ingeld moved her lips several times before she produced an audible sound. “You ran away! When Stralg came you ran away!”
“On, no, wife.” Ardial smiled bloodlessly. “You misstate the facts. The bloodlord’s brother, Horold Hragson, swore by his god that he would kill me if I did not leave the city directly, or if I ever returned to Kosord. You know that the fourth paramount duty is to preserve one’s own life, subject to the first three duties. Furthermore, it is written in the laws of holy Demern, chapter two, clause eighteen, that a man should prevent a crime even if a lesser crime may result. I will quote you the exact text if you wish, but it is quite long, listing numerous crimes in their rankings. Faced with the promise of death, wife, I asked you if you would satisfy Therek Hragson’s carnal demands, on the premise that he had been imposed in my place as consort of the city and your person. You said that you would, having no reasonable choice. I obtained from him a promise that he would use no violence upon you as long as you were obedient and true to him only. Thus I had assurance that the result would be adultery, not forcible rape, and that is a lesser crime than my own murder would have been. I therefore left the city in obedience to the law.”
“Murder?” Benard still had an arm around the Speaker’s alleged wife. “Suddenly I appreciate the brighter side of murder.”
“Let the professionals handle it,” said Orlad, stepping forward with a commendable awakening of family solidarity. His men began to move in unison.
Hostleader Nils roared, “Silence!” He glared around, one-eyed. “Sit down, all of you! You know the penalty for injuring a Speaker.”
The Werists sat down, glowering.
Ardial said, “Thank you. I ordered you to unhand my wife, Florengian.”
“No.” Benard had paled, so that bruises stood out as blotches all over his face. “I killed Horold Hragson for her and she is mine! Now and always. And her child is mine, also.”
“Child? Was the babe conceived according to the rituals of Veslih’s holy mystery, Daughter?”
Ingeld nodded mutely.
Ardial shrugged. “Then she will be your legitimate heir and I will see she is raised accordingly. Under chapter seven, clause forty-nine, your sacred duty to provide a successor in my enforced absence excuses your adultery. I will accept you back as my wife once you have undergone ritual purification. The man, however, is guilty of adultery and usurpation. I hereby sentence him to death under chapter one, clause seven, also chapter three, clause fourteen. Huntleader, arrest that man.”
Orlad’s flank growled like surf in a major storm
Dantio chuckled and stood up. “ It is known that I am a Witness of Mayn.”
The Speaker frowned at him. “You are not dressed as one. Establish your claim.”
Dantio’s smile turned frosty as the Ice. “It may be legal, but I find it unseemly for a man to accuse his alleged wife of adultery when he has two Nymphs of Eriander in his quarters.”
Ardial’s shrug was barely perceptible. “It is both legal and irrelevant. I acknowledge your credential but not your relevance to this situation. I was present at the events I described, so I know them to be as stated. Did my wife just give perjured testimony?”