* * *
The nervous jewel merchants were only too pleased to find replacements that could be vouched for by their most trusted guard-chiefs. They were even happier when they learned that one of the two was Shin'a'in and the other a mage. Kethry more than earned her pay on that trip, preventing a thiefmage from substituting bespelled glass for the rubies and sapphires they had just traded for.
They left the merchants before they returned to Mornedealth, Kethry not particularly wanting to revisit quite yet. Ikan and Justin did their best to persuade them otherwise, but to no avail.
"You could stay at the Broken Sword. Tarma could keep drilling us like she did last year," Justin coaxed. "And Cat would dearly love to see you. She's set herself up as a weapons merchant."
"No... I want things to cool down a little more," Kethry said. "And frankly, we need to earn ourselves a reputation and a pretty good stake, and we won't do that sitting around in Mornedealth all winter."
"You," Ikan put in, a speculative gleam in his eyes, "have got more in mind than earning the kind of cozy docket we have. Am I right, or no?"
"You're right," Tarma admitted.
"So? What've you got in mind?"
"Schools -- or rather a school, with both of us teaching what we're best at."
"You'll need more than a good stake and a rep -- you'll need property. Some kind of big building, stables, maybe a real indoor training area -- and a good library, warded research areas, and neighbors who aren't too fussy about what you conjure."
"Gods, I hadn't thought that far, but you're right," Tarma said with chagrin. "Sounds as if what we want is on the order of a manor house."
"Which means you'd better start thinking in terms of working for a noble with property to grant once you get that rep. A crowned head would be best." Justin looked at both of them soberly. "That's not as unlikely as you might think; a combination like you two is rare even among men; sword and magic in concert are worth any ten straight swordsmen, however good. Add to it that you're female -- think about it. Say you've got a monarch needing bodyguards; who'd check out his doxy and her servant? There's a lot of ways you could parlay yourself into becoming landed, and Keth's already ennobled."
"But for now..." Kethry said.
"For now you've got to earn that rep. Just bear in mind that what you're going after is far from impossible."
"Can we -- ask you for advice now and again?" Kethry asked. "Justin, you sound to me as if you've figured some of this out for yourselves."
"He did," his partner grinned. "Or rather, we did. But we decided that it was too big a field for the two of us to hope to plow. So we settled for making ourselves indispensable to the Jewel Merchant's Guild. Fact is, we've also been keeping our eyes out for somebody like you two. We aren't going to be young forever, and we figured on talking somebody into taking us on at their new school as instructors before we got so old our bones creaked every time we lunged." He winked at Kethry.
Tarma stared. "You really think we have a chance of pulling this off?"
"More than a chance, nomad -- I'd lay money on it. I'm sure enough that I haven't even tried luring your lovely little partner into my bed -- I don't make love to prospective employers."
"Well!" Tarma was plainly startled. "I will be damned..."
"I hope not," Justin chuckled, "or I'll have to find another set of prospects!"
They got a commission with another caravan to act as guards -- courtesy of their friends. On their way they detoured briefly when Need called them to rid a town of a monster, a singularly fruitless effort, for the monster was slain by a would-be "hero" the very day they arrived.
After that they skirmished with banditti and a half-trained magician's ex-apprentice who thought robbing caravans was an easier task than memorizing spells. Kethry "slapped his hands," as she put it, and left him with a geas to build walls for the temple of Sun-Lord Resoden until he should learn better.
When the caravan was safely gotten home, they found an elderly mage of the Blue Mountains school who wanted some physical protection as he returned to his patron, and was delighted with the bonus of having a sorceress of a different discipline to converse with.
During these journeys Tarma and Warrl were learning to integrate themselves as a fighting team; somewhat to Tarma's amazement, her other-worldly teachers were inclined to include him whenever he chose. After her initial shock -- and, to some extent, dismay -- she had discovered that they did have a great deal in common, especially in attitudes. He was, perhaps, a bit more cynical than she was, but he was also older. He never would admit exactly how old he was; when Tarma persisted, he seized one of her hands in his powerful jaws and mindsent, :My years are enough, mindmate, to suffice.: She never asked again.
But now they had fallen on dry times; they had wound up on the estate of Viscount Hathkel, with no one needing their particular talents and no cities nearby. The money they had earned must now be at least partially spent in provisioning them to someplace where they were likelier to find work.
That was the plan, anyway -- until Need woke from her apparent slumbers with a vengeance.
* * *
Tarma goaded her gray Shin'a'in warsteed into another burst of speed, urging her on with hand and voice (though not spur -- never spur; that would have been an insult the battlesteed would not tolerate) as if she were pursued by the Jackels of Darkness. It had been more than long enough since she had first become Kal'enedral for her hair to have regrown -- now her long, ebony braids streamed behind her; close enough to catch one of them rode Kethry. Kethry's own mare was a scant half a length after her herd-sister.
Need had left Kethry almost completely alone save for that one prod almost from the time they'd left the Liha'irden camp. Both of them had nearly forgotten just what bearing her could mean. They had been reminded this morning, when Need had woken Kethry almost before the sun rose, and had been driving the sorceress (and so her blood-oath sister as well) in this direction all day. At first it had been a simple pull, as she had often felt before.
Tarma had teased, and Kethry had grumbled; then they had packed up their camp and headed for the source. Kethry had even had time enough to summon a creature of the Ethereal Plane to scout and serve as a set of clairvoyant "eyes" for them. But the call had grown more urgent as the hours passed, not less so -- increasing to the point where by midafternoon it was actually causing Kethry severe mental pain, pain that even Tarma was subject to, through the oath-bond. That was when they got Warrl up onto the special carry-pad they'd rigged for him behind Tarma's saddle, and prepared to make some speed. They urged their horses first into a fast walk, then a trot, then as sunset neared, into a full gallop. By then Kethry was near-blind with mental anguish, and no longer capable of even directing their Ethereal ally, much less questioning it.
Need would not be denied in this; Moonsong k'Vala, the Hawkbrother Adept they had met, had told them nothing less than the truth. Kethry was soul-bonded to the sword, just as surely as Tarma was bonded to her Goddess or Warrl to Tarma. Kethry was recalling now with some misgiving that Moonsong had also said that she had not yet found the limit to which it would bind itself to her -- and if this experience was any indication of the future, she wasn't sure she wanted to.