“ It is known that she did not. A Witness may ask a Speaker to rule on the holy laws.”
“She… I mean he may.”
Dantio clasped his hands behind his back and rocked a few times on the balls of his feet, but then spoiled the solemn effect by winking across at Benard. “ The Witness asks: If a man does not lie with his wife, after how many years may she have their marriage nullified?”
“In chapter one, clause eight,” the Speaker declaimed, “it is written that she may make application to a Speaker to have her marriage nullified after seven years. But,” and now Ardial displayed his first faint hint of human emotion, triumph, “has any Speaker set foot in Kosord since I departed?”
“ It is known that none has, prior to her departure.”
“Then she cannot have made such application, and if she makes such application now, I shall refuse it under the clause subsequent to the aforementioned clause because our reunion here tonight is a significant change of circumstance.”
Dantio bowed. “The Witness thanks the Speaker for this determination of the holy Arcana. The Witness further asks: Is it not permitted, when legitimate or traditional authority-which in the case of Kosord would be the dynast’s consort-has been evicted or overthrown by force, for the people to accept and obey edicts of the hegemonic power as if they were legitimate?”
“It is so written in chapter seven, clause ninety-five,” Ardial conceded, and now he was definitely frowning.
“It is known,” the seer said blithely, “that seven years and seven days after the city of Kosord was bereft of its most recent consort, namely your learned self, Speaker Ardial, Satrap Therek celebrated his marriage with the dynast, Daughter Ingeld Narsdor, having publicly declared her previous marriage nullified. It is also known that no protests were lodged against his proclamation within the time duly allotted.”
Ardial looked at Ingeld, who was glowing in the twilight, then at Benard, who now had both arms around her, and finally at the half-grin of Huntleader Nils.
“Then my initial ruling was based on incomplete information and it is possible for me to marry this woman to this man.”
“And you will!” Orlad said, loud enough to be heard over the cheering. “You most certainly will!”
DANTIO CELEBRE
sat down, having achieved his purpose. He usually avoided weddings. Partly he disliked the absurd extravagance, the inevitable waste of more wealth than families could afford. A party was always a good idea, certainly, but why did a wedding need anything extra except a bedroom near at hand? Mostly he hated the surging cross-tides of emotion, ranging from lechery to suppressed terror.
He could not complain about extravagance tonight. The hereditary ruler of one of the greatest cities of the Face was marrying her penniless sculptor in a barbaric backwoods shed without one solid gold saltcellar in sight. A few candles would have helped. Even the usual lecherous remarks from the onlookers were subdued when the bride was older than all but two of the guests. Both bride and groom were bubbling with happiness, so Benard must have decided that the burden of being a dynast’s consort was not so very terrible. Ingeld had been nominal ruler of Kosord since before he was born, and in practice she had run it alone for long periods when the satrap was away on campaign. A Hand would probably perform ceremonial duties beautifully.
Still, there was enough emotion loose to make a seer feel he was being pelted with snowballs and hot coals at the same time. Ardial Berkson was a predictable pillar of ice in the center, but all Speakers were like that. To the extrinsics present, Horth Wigson would seem another human fish; only a seer could sense the blazing exultation the Ucrist was hiding so well. Poor, lonely old rich man! His glow of triumph must mean that he believed he had blocked Fabia’s ambition to leave him and return to Florengia.
The Speaker began administering a complicated oath to Benard, who stammered and floundered in the archaic language.
A scorching anger approached Dantio’s left shoulder-Orlad, of course, seething with the frustrated bloodlust of a hunter who sees his prey escaping.
Glaring down, he said, “Well, brother?”
Back to that problem…“Well what?” Dantio said.
“How do we get to Florengia?”
The other source of rage in the hall was Fabia, but she was more frustrated than angry. Perhaps her chthonic powers let her detect a little of what Dantio himself knew-that there was a way past the impasse if they could only find it. At the moment she was intent on the ceremony.
“You want me to meddle some more, do you?”
Orlad flashed (alarm). “Not if it brings on that anathema thing you were frightened of earlier.”
Dantio turned to face him. “That I am still frightened of.”
(dismay) “I thought you were safe now? Didn’t Horold break the compact before you did?”
Yes, although Dantio had not known that at the time, so he had been guilty in spirit. “I did worse. I could have broken the compact just by refusing to answer Therek’s questions. But I lied. I gave False Witness, and that is a breach of the laws of our cult. The Eldest will have no choice but to rule against me, so our bargain still holds, brother.” He winced at Orlad’s surge of horror and forced himself to smile. “But I am not certain that her anathema will be effective on the Florengian Face, so I want to cross the Edge even more urgently than you do. There is a way. I just don’t know what it is, exactly.”
His baby brother bared fangs at him. “Oh, very helpful! You said the Pathfinder was not lying.”
“I did. And he is genuinely afraid of the danger. But when Fabia asked about following Saltaja over Nardalborg Pass, and I said that was impossible, he reacted with panic. He saw a solution! Then the Speaker arrived and we talked of other things.”
(fury) Orlad clenched his fists and-to a seer’s vision-half the muscles in his body as well. “So what did he see?”
“I don’t know. I suspect Horth Wigson does, though.”
Orlad stared angrily across at the little merchant. “Hermesk told me that Pathfinders cannot be bribed.”
“I expect they can be threatened. Nobody wants to antagonize the world’s richest man.” Who was still feeling disgustingly smug.
The room broke into cheers as the ceremony ended and Benard kissed his bride. Even as he did so, Dantio felt a sudden surge of satisfaction, which he recognized as coming from Fabia. The night had not done with surprises.
“I think,” he whispered, “that you can stop worrying. Our sweet and deadly little sister has just solved the mystery.”
Orlad chuckled. “Ah! Know something? There are times she scares me more than Stralg does!” He plowed into the press of people and benches, heading for Fabia. A moment later, his feelings welled up in satisfaction also. Dantio followed him into the throng, intending to give Benard his congratulations-and farewells, too, because it seemed as if the way to Florengia was about to open. Sure enough, even before he reached the newly-weds, Orlad’s head appeared over the crowd and his powerful voice boomed out above the chatter.
“Pathfinder!”
Hermesk had been just about to slip out the door. He turned reluctantly. “My lord?”
“Small parties travel faster than large ones, don’t they?”
(caution-deceit) The Pathfinder was wary, fearing a trap, wanting to hide something. “Not necessarily. Any party goes at the pace of its slowest member.”
“How far apart are the two passes over the Edge?”
(fear) “It varies.”
“In places they are quite close? Less than a menzil apart?”
(resignation) “Yes.”
(joy-triumph) “So if we set out at dawn tomorrow, we might be able to cut across from Varakats Pass to Nardalborg Pass and get ahead of Saltaja?”