Poor devil, he looks like warmed-over death. All this is giving me energy, but it's sapping his. Keth, too. Talk all day, plot all night, spellcast when you aren't plotting --
:Chase one another around the bedroom when you aren't spellcasting-: Warrl broke into her thoughts.
Still at it, are they? Tarma thought at him. Well, if the liaison has survived this much stress for this long, Keth's right about him being The One. Good. I'd welcome Jadrek as Clanbrother with no reservations. He's the closest thing I've seen since Keth to a Shin'a'in.
:And he has more sense than both of you put together. Yow know, he still thinks you don't know about the love affair,: Warrl chuckled. :Keth hasn't enlightened him. I can't read her as easily as I can him, what with all her mage-shields, so I don't know why she hasn't told him that you knew about it from the first. She might assume he knows you know -- or she might be waiting to see how he handles the situation.:
I suspect the latter, given Keth's devious mind. Hmm. If anyone would know about Jadrek's condition, you would; you're practically in his pocket most of the day. He was limping-how's he doing, physically?
:Extremely well; his bones only bother him when he's very tired, like tonight, or very chilled. Need knows how Kethry worries about him, so Need takes very good care of him.:
Good enough to make the Palace assault with us? We need his knowledge.
:I would judge so. He'll have every fighter of the Hawks watching out for him, after all.:
Hai. He'll probably come out better than the rest of us will. Well -- back to business.
She had reached Sewen and Ikan by the end of that mental conversation, which had all taken place in the space of a few heartbeats. They looked up at her approach, and knowing her as well as they did, she reckoned they would have no trouble reading the news in her eyes.
"Time, is it?" Sewen straightened, and rolled up the map they'd been working with.
She nodded. "He's here." No need to say who "he" was -- not when all they lacked for the past several days to put the plan into motion had been Stefansen's physical presence.
"Keth's room. Ready?"
Roth nodded; Ikan signaled Justin, who came to take his place, Sewen did the same with the scout Mala. Within moments the three of them, darkly cloaked and moving like shadows through the ill-lit streets, were on their way to Kethry's room.
Warrl, as always, told the others of their approach; Kethry was at the door before they set foot on the staircase, and held it open just enough that they could slip inside.
Jadrek was already there, seated at the table; beside him, looking somehow far more princely than Tarma had remembered, was Stefansen.
It was Stefansen the ruler who rose to greet them; to clasp the hands and shoulders of both Ikan and Sewen with that same ease and frank equality Idra had always shown, and thank them for their presence and help with a sincerity that none of them doubted. The meeting was, in some ways, rather unnerving for Sewen and Ikan; Tarma knew how much like his sister Stefansen looked, but the others hadn't been warned. And in the soft light from their candles the resemblance was even stronger. Tarma could almost hear their thoughts -- shock, a touch of chill at the back of the neck --
Then they shook themselves into sense.
Kethry gestured, bringing three more chairs into abrupt existence, as Jadrek unrolled the first of a series of maps on the table. All six of them seated themselves almost simultaneously; Stefansen cleared his throat, and the odd note in the sound caught Tarma's attention -- and by the way the other two looked up at him in startlement, Sewen's and Ikan's as well.
"Jadrek has kept me appraised of what's been going on" he said, with a kind of awkward hesitation that he had not displayed before. "So I know the reason all you Sunhawks are here. I don't -- I don't deal well with emotion, it's hard for me to say things that I feel. But I just want you to know that I -- understand. I have half a dozen reasons for wanting to roast Char over a slow fire, and that one is at the top of the list. But I think all of you have a prior claim on his hide. I was never as close to Idra as even the lowliest of her Hawks. So -- if it's possible -- when this is over, he's yours."
Sewen's eyes lit at those words. "The Hawks thank you for that. Highness -- an' I'll tell you true, they'll fight all the better for the knowing of the promise."
"It only seemed fair...." He looked straight into Tarma's eyes, as if asking whether this had been the wise choice. She nodded slightly, and he looked easier.
"Very well, gentlemen, ladies -- " he said after a moment of silence. "All the pieces are on the game board. Shall we begin?"
* * *
It was Midsummer's Night, and folk in carnival garb thronged the streets. Among the mob of wildly costumed maskers, who would notice six hundred-odd more celebrants ?
Who would notice masks on a night of masking? Who would note six hundred-odd sets of phony weaponry among so many thousand tawdry pieces of junk like them? Who would take alarm from another merchant or peasant playing at Warrior?
Except that beneath the cheap gilding and pasted-on glass jewels, beneath the paper and the tinsel, the arms and armor of this lot was very real.
This was the night of all nights that the rebels had hoped to be able to use -- in part because of the ability to move freely, and in part because of one aspect in particular of the Midsummer's Night celebrations of Rethwellan. Though the folk of Petras were mostly long since severed from any direct ties to the farms that formed a good third of Rethwellan's wealth. Midsummer's Night was still the night which ensured the fertlity of the land. There would be reveling in the streets right up until the stroke of midnight -- but at midnight, the streets would be deserted. Every man and woman in Petras would be doing his or her level best to prove to the Goddess in Her aspect as Lover that the people of Rethwellan still worshiped Her in all the appropriate ways. This Midsummer's Night they would be trying especially hard, because over the past three months the priests of the city had been doing their best to encourage exactly that behavior tonight. Some of them had even unbent themselves enough to admit that -- on this one night -- perhaps it didn't altogether worry Her if your partner did not happen to be your lawfully wedded spouse. And that if one felt guilty after being infected with Her sacred desires and fulfilling same -- well, for a case of indulgence after Midsummer's Night, penances would be few and light, and forgiveness easily obtained.
For all but six hundred-odd, who would not be fulfilling Her desires as Lover, but as Avenger.
Tarma picked her way through the thinning crowds, still wearing her guise of Arton. It was that guise that was going to give the Hawks the entry to the Palace grounds. From all directions, she knew, the Hawks were converging on the Palace; she would be one of the last to arrive. Kethry was already in place, waiting to spring her trap-spells. If they didn't work, she would be in a position to guide Hawks to the mages to deal with them physically while she kept them occupied magically. If they did work, she would be a most welcome addition to their arsenal.