He bore a strong animal odor-not as repellent as Horold Hragson’s had been, but not human. He glanced over his shoulder. A woman emerged from the gate and came to stand at his side. Her simple wrap clung to an angular, bony figure. She was not young-white-streaked hair, care-lined face, penetrating eyes-but women aged rapidly during their bearing years. His wife?
She said only, “I am Giunietta, my lady.”
“I am honored to meet you.”
The second chariot had arrived. Dantio stepped down, favoring his gimpy ankle. He bowed-to the woman. “Witness Mist, sister.”
She smiled as if caught out. “Witness Giunietta, brother.”
Another bow. “Dantio Celebre, my lord Mutineer. I am greatly honored to meet you again.”
Cavotti responded with a bend of his bull neck. “I would not have known you.”
“Boys notice their elders more than their juniors. I remember you, but only dimly.”
“Faugh! My own mother would not know me now. Welcome home, lord Dantio. You arrive at an interesting time.” Again he glanced at Giunietta, and they exchanged the sort of looks that couples exchange. He was puzzled by this soft-spoken young man; she was saying she would explain later.
Orlad sprang down and saluted. He introduced himself and Waels in very stilted Florengian. Fabia noted Cavotti’s manner cool. A Florengian who had been initiated in Vigaelia was suspect. “Piero had a fourth child, as I recall.”
“Benard,” Dantio said. “He remained behind, having just become consort of Kosord.”
“Kosord? Why is that name familiar?”
Dantio grinned. “Because it was previously ruled by Horold Hragson. You want the news, my lord Mutineer? Brace yourself. Benard killed Horold with a little help from Orlad and his men. Orlad killed Therek Hragson with his own bare, er, teeth. Hordeleader Arbanerik and his New Dawn rebels took Tryfors and were poised to take Nardalborg when we left. Saltaja Hragsdor tried to flee over the pass with a large escort of Heroes. She closed the road behind her, but we closed it ahead of her, leaving her trapped near the Edge without supplies or a way out. She may be presumed dead.”
“Hands of death!” Cavotti roared. “Is any of this true, love?”
“All of it.” Giunietta clapped her hands. “Oh, most wonderful news!”
Cavotti bared teeth in a monster’s leer. “You Celebres don’t play for cakes, do you? Hero Orlad, I hail you as worthy of our god!” He grabbed Orlad in a bear’s embrace, lifting him right off the ground.
Orlad did not like that. The moment he was set down he snarled, “And you likewise, Mutineer,” and treated the giant likewise. Just to show he could, probably.
Cavotti laughed and thumped his shoulder. “The whole foul brood dead except for Stralg, then?”
Fabia did not want to reveal her suspicions yet, but she could not leave him misinformed. “A warning, my lord. I agree that Saltaja’s position seemed hopeless, but you know that the Queen of Shadows has always been a tool of the Ancient One. When we burned down the bridge at the Leap, we inadvertently left our Pathfinder on the other side. No one knows any other way to cross the Dust River, but if there is one, he will have found it for her. You should post a watch on this end of the pass, my lord, just to be quite certain.”
She had not mentioned that possibility to her companions, but their frowns were nothing compared to Cavotti’s. He said, “I will do so, with orders to kill her on sight. What comes first, my lords and lady-hot water? Food? News? Talk? Sleep?”
“You have the right order exactly,” Fabia said. She doubted they would have much time left over for sleep.
FABIA CELEBRE
was conducted to a bathing pool that would have held sixty women without a jostle. She had it to herself, in a courtyard so steamy and overgrown by feral garden that it would have been private even without the high wall surrounding it. Although paving, statuary, and stone benches were all cushioned in green moss, the water itself was clear, gushing up from a corroded bronze grating and trickling away through another. She sank into bliss, submerging totally until she had to come up for air. The gods knew that she had earned this! Nothing in her life quite compared.
Soon Giunietta came bustling in with a pile of clothes. “Try rubbing yourself with this paste, my lady. It cleanses and freshens the skin. These are the only women’s garments I could find. I’ll hold them up, and you can tell me what color you like and what you think will fit you…”
After that Giunietta dusted off a bench and sat down to chat while Fabia washed, soaked, swam a little, and generally luxuriated. Whenever her head was above water, she freely recounted the family adventures: how she had learned Florengian from Paola, why Orlad spoke it so badly, how Benard had risen so high so fast, how Waels had changed color, and so on. Some of it only a seer would believe, and Giunietta must know that she had an ulterior motive in telling it. After Fabia had dried herself off with the softest towels she had ever encountered-alpaca wool, whatever that was-Giunietta offered to rub her with lavender oil. That was an offer not be refused, and she stretched out on the bench, facedown. It was nice to feel kneaded.
“But now it’s my turn. Tell me about the Mutineer. How did you meet him?”
Gentle fingers spread cool oil on her shoulders. “The rule our Goddess decreed for Her mystery here is not quite the same as She set out for Vigaelia. We do not go veiled, for example, unless we are testifying. Both cults are forbidden to meddle in events, but when Stralg perverted Her mystery in Vigaelia and then brought this evil over the Edge with him, our Eldest decreed that any Florengian Witnesses who wished to assist the opposition would be allowed to do so, within certain limits. I am forbidden to send men to their deaths, for example, but I may warn of ambushes. Very few of us can bear to do even that much. I fear I have more tolerance for brutality than most.”
Unsure how to respond to that, Fabia said, “How long have you known Marno Cavotti?”
“About two thirties.”
Oh. No children, no marriage.
“He broke into Celebre itself to appeal to the doge.” Giunietta’s voice was soothing, but she lacked skill at oiling and pummeling. Fabia longed for Lilin, back in Skjar. “Your father was incapable and your mother was ruling in his name. Marno spoke with her and then escaped by the skin of his heels. He takes absurd risks sometimes! I had agreed to help his men locate him, and that was when we met. One thing led to another, and… Later I discovered that his real purpose had been to lure the Vigaelians into a trap, and he won a great victory by it. When he says victory he means massacre, so my involvement was not as harmless as I had hoped, but that is typical of Marno.”
She worked on Fabia’s thighs. “We very nearly lost him a few sixdays ago. He got trapped between two Vigaelian squads and was horribly wounded and tortured, very nearly died.”
“How awful!”
“Until then he could pass for an extrinsic-big, yes, but handsome as a god. Some of his men rescued him in time to save his life, but he could not heal all his injuries. He does not complain, but it must be hard for him.”
Hard on anyone who had to look at him. That bestial face would give Fabia shudders even without the horn. “You are lovers?”
“Seers do not fall in love, my lady. Love is a form of blindness.”
“I am sorry. It is none of-”
Giunietta chuckled quite crudely. “But we take pleasure together. You cannot imagine me coupling with that great unicorn bison? Well, I do, and eagerly, every time I can get him to take a moment away from the war. I confess I am sadly promiscuous where Werists are concerned. Sometimes we Witnesses can be snared by our own powers, and I know that some of my sisters have become as addicted as I have. We have more talents than just sight, you know. One of our abilities is to detect the inner nature of things or people. We call it ‘smell,’ but it has nothing to do with noses or scent. We have to call it something, and it has about the same range as an odor. We can sniff out lies and liars, poison in a goblet, bad news in a letter, disease or rotting beams. I can tell boy babies from girls before their mothers are even aware of their existence. Will you turn over now?