Well, of course! Dantio should have seen that. If they could get ahead of the Vigaelians-and stay ahead-then they could live off the enemy’s food caches.
The spectators had fallen silent. Hermesk began protesting the dangers again, but Orlad would not concede. He won an admission that the early stretches of Varakats Pass were slightly easier than the start of Nardalborg Pass and that the two came close before they reached the High Ice.
The Pathfinder took refuge in outright refusal. “It is absurdly dangerous! I refuse to be involved.”
Huntleader Nils intervened. “Oh, come, Herm! It isn’t winter yet. The Milky is still running. The rain’s washed away the snow.”
Hermesk set his jaw. “It is still a risk. What fee am I being offered?”
The huntleader said, “Where is our Ucrist? Master Horth, you have contributed so much to the overthrow of the Hrag tyranny, you will help the cause some more, I hope?”
The little man’s bland smile did not waver. Nobody but Dantio would sense his internal torment. He shifted his ground-slightly. “If brave Hero Orlad is adamant on taking the risk, I will happily finance his expedition. But Fabia will not go with him. She will be returning to Skjar with me.”
“No!” Fabia pushed between two Werists to reach him.
He looked up with bland stubbornness. “Frena, my dear child! The journey is a ridiculous risk, and the war in Florengia is a worse one. Why go there, for the gods’s sake? Your parents are nothing to you now, nor you to them. Here I can give you anything you can possibly want. What can Celebre offer you that Skjar cannot?”
Seers knew how deceptive some people’s appearance could be, but even Dantio marveled that such a predator hid behind Horth’s ovine exterior. His protest was logical, and it hurt Fabia. (love-pity-sorrow-anger-determination) She truly loved him. He was her father in all but blood, and to wound him in any way must be the worst sort of ingratitude. He was old and unwell. He had no one but her. He could reasonably demand her company until she married.
Alas, he was fighting destiny. Fabia knew about seasoning. She could see, as well as any mortal could, how the gods had set the House of Celebre against the House of Hrag. Horold and Therek were gone. Benard and Dantio had played their parts. Only Orlad and Fabia were left, against Saltaja and Stralg. Why else had she been Chosen, if not for this purpose? She probably could not resist her own grim goddess; it would be great folly to try.
“If I stay, will that make you happy, Father?”
Oh, brutal! Horth recoiled in dismay. Happiness was his corban. Nothing in the world could ever make Horth Wigson happy.
He rallied. “I am sorry, my dear, but I insist. An unmarried woman is subject to her father, or foster father in your case. If you do not believe me, ask the Speaker. I cannot possibly let you embark on such a perilous journey.”
“Very well, I will ask him,” Fabia said angrily. She called through the crowd. “Speaker Ardial? If a woman is unmarried and her true parents are unavailable, who has authority over her-her guardian or her brothers?”
“Guardian?” The Speaker made the word roll like a carillon. “Was she given into the keeping of this guardian by her father according to procedures set forth in the Arcana, chapter six, clause eighty-two?”
Of course not, she had been stolen. Only males over the age of ten could legally be taken hostage. With a few deft quotes and citations, Ardial Berkson decreed that under the third duty and various obscure clauses, Fabia belonged to Benard Celebre-not her eldest brother, to Dantio’s relief, because he had forsaken the world when he joined the Witnesses.
Dantio would not gamble a stale crust on Fabia being any more obedient to Benard than she was to Horth.
Benard clearly thought the same. “You want to go with Orlad?”
“Yes, I do.”
The Hand grinned. “Then I put you under his authority. Put that in formal language, Speaker. Good luck, brother.”
Fabia grabbed Orlad in a hug. He lifted her and spun her around.
But Pathfinder Hermesk promptly hurled another rock into the emotional pond, sending ripples surging. “I still want to know my fee! What am I offered to risk my neck traveling upcountry at this time of year with a bunch of crazy children?”
“You could keep it unbroken,” Waels muttered on the sidelines, but even he must realize that violence was not an option when the Pathfinder was a close friend of Hostleader Nils.
The room fell quiet. Pathfinders could not be bribed.
Fabia detached her Werist brother and returned to Horth. She took his hands in hers.
“Father? You have given me so much! Will you not grant me this last gift of freedom? That is a parent’s last sacrifice. Let me grow up and fly away?”
She might be using chthonic powers to change his mind, but all Dantio detected was rank ingratitude. He felt the entire room squirm. If she had learned her ruthlessness from the Ucrist, the pupil now surpassed the teacher. Horth had met his match.
(resignation) “Name your price, Master Hermesk.”
(surprise-greed) “Another ten years on Yeti Pass.”
All that meant to Dantio was that Pathfinders could apparently be bribed after all.
The Ucrist understood, though. “Agreed.”
“So we can leave at dawn?” Orlad shouted. (jubilation) “Fabia and Dantio and Waels and me? You won’t mind if I put a guard on your canoe overnight, Pathfinder, will you? You will provide supplies for us, my lord?”
Excepting Waels, his Werists started shouting that they wanted to come, too.
“No room in the canoe,” Orlad said. “But I can suggest honorable employment for all of you now. The new state consort of Kosord is not a Hero, but he is worthy of Heroes’ service. Lord Benard, can you use some tried and true, well-blooded young warriors?”
Benard had been gazing blissfully into his wife’s eyes. He looked around and said, “What? Oh, I’m sure we can. I have to win back my wife’s city, my lords. The odds will be at least two sixty to one, none of this easy stuff Orlad has been giving you.” He grinned, showing his shattered teeth. “As consort of Kosord, I hereby appoint Guthlag Guthlagson my hordeleader. Speaker, will you administer whatever oath he has to swear? Then he can start recruiting.”
“Told you it wasn’t difficult, dearest,” Ingeld said.
HETH THEREKSON
had not slept all night. That was not unusual for him on the eve of a caravan departure, but it was poor preparation when he would be leading the caravan himself and would need all his wits in the day ahead. Obviously an elderly woman could not be expected to keep up with young Heroes trained to razor sharpness for the ordeal, so the addition of Saltaja to the roster had required innumerable changes and additions-a prefabricated carrying chair, a stove to warm her tent, and so on. Around midnight a runner from Halfway Hall reported rebel troops moving up from Tryfors, so Nardalborg would probably come under attack very shortly. Having appointed Frath his own replacement and Zarpan leader of white pack, Heth had been forced to spend time instructing them in their duties, stressing the need to defend the fortress. As if all those worries were not enough, Femund had gone into screaming hysterics when she learned that Filukena was to go along as Saltaja’s lady’s maid. In the end Heth had been forced to order her confined.
Now dawn was near. When he rapped on Saltaja’s door, it was opened by Filukena herself, already dressed. She blinked uncertainly at her father, as if she barely remembered him.
“You’re up early!” he whispered. He had assumed she was fast asleep in her own room.
She smiled uncertainly. “I sleep on a mat on the floor beside her ladyship now, so I will be within call whenever she needs me. And I must never tell anyone anything I see or overhear. Not even you.”
He swallowed an inexplicable lump in his throat. “It’s a great honor to serve her! You must try very hard to please.”