Jonja waited a moment, then eased open the door and looked down the corridor. “He has gone toward his chamber,” she confirmed. “Shall we leave the door ajar?”
“I think not,” said Morfew, amused. “Kasarian will likely truly retire to reflect upon the notion—quite bizarre to an Alizonder, I assure you—that a female can be expected to do more than produce strong whelps and mind a household.”
I sat very still. I had never before had occasion to think about Alizonder women and how they might live. None had ever been seen during the Dales war; we had assumed that they either did not choose to travel with their men, or were not allowed to do so. Should they be customarily kept as virtual prisoners in their manors and castles, it might be difficult for me to move about freely in Alizon City . . . assuming that Kasarian would accept my company.
Duratan was again fretfully pacing. “How can we dare to trust one Alizonder baron to oppose another such?” he demanded. “Now that Kasarian knows the awesome strength of Gurborian’s jewel, might he not try to seize it for the benefit of his own House—or worse, inform the Lord Baron so that he might act?”
Morfew shook his head, all traces of humor banished. “No, I believe that we may rely upon one sure fact: Kasarian would not venture to keep such a jewel in his own possession. The Line Sired by Krevonel was ever one devoted to the old ways. They feared and despised any association with magic. I think we can also trust Kasarian’s unswerving hatred for the Line that murdered his sire—such actions are not forgotten in Alizon.” His voice shook as he added, “That is why we have been cursed over the years by blood feuds. Deep wounds leave deep and lasting scars that persist over generations.”
“Should Alizon loose its fighters upon Estcarp at the same time that we were magically assailed by Escore’s Dark mages,” Duratan worried aloud, “then our plight would be truly desperate. Our Witches have not yet fully recovered their strength from their mighty exertions required by the spells that caused the Turning.”
“I fear that they will never completely regain their former strength,” said Nolar sadly. “So many of them were killed or woefully afflicted by the excessive Power they wielded. Even now, the Council in Es City continues to search the land for young girls—even children—to be trained as rapidly as may be in order to reconstitute their numbers.”
Jonja glanced warily outside the door, then rejoined us at the table. “Should such an awful double assault befall us,” she said, “I would not be surprised if the Witches’ Council chose the same tactic resorted to by the Sulcar when the Kolder sent Gorm’s mindless masses to capture Sulcarkeep.”
Ouen stared at the table, but his eyes were focused upon something other than the wooden surface. “The utter destruction of Sulcarkeep was an act of sorrowful necessity,” he said. “May the Light forbid that we of Estcarp ever be driven to such a violent ending.”
“Lormt presumably would endure,” asserted Morfew stoutly, then he paused, and added, “provided our quan-iron spheres continue to protect us.”
“Who would want to exist in a single, isolated fortress surrounded like an island by the flood tides of the Dark?” asked Duratan bitterly.
“In regard to the possible outcome of a mission to Alizon,” observed Morfew, “should Kasarian and Mereth succeed in passing through Elsenar’s postern, how could they go about securing Gurborian’s jewel without being captured or killed?”
“Kasarian will have to formulate a plan feasible for use in Alizon,” Ouen replied. “We must then judge whether his plan holds a reasonable prospect for success—as well as whether it provides sufficient protection for Mereth. It disturbs me greatly,” he said directly to me, “that because of the postern’s stricture, you alone may represent us, risking your life for Estcarp’s sake.”
My hand was steady as I wrote for him to read, “I am an old woman who had thought her remaining active days were likely few. If this mission should be my last journey, I have no regrets. We of the Dales can never forget what you of Estcarp risked to aid us in our time of need. I have been a trader all my life. Fair service in return for fair service—what honest trader could offer less?”
Ouen’s smile softened his usually stern demeanor. “The Dalesfolk have ever been known for their steadfastness and courage,” he said. “Jonja, will you fetch back our guest? We need to hear what plans he has devised.”
15
Kasarian—events at Lormt
(Veneration Day, Moon of the Knife/10th Day, Month of the Ice Dragon)
It vexed me that I had not fully grasped the mute female’s potential for disturbance. Soon after we commenced our joint search of Lormt’s archives, Mereth poked her writing slate at me, querying me anent Gurborian and why he had been awarded “her” jewel. I thought it advisable to plead ignorance of the details due to my relative youth at the time, thus I did not inform her that the first bestowal ceremony had taken place shortly after my twelfth-year’s Presentation to Facellian, the Lord Baron at that time. I had already left Alizon City when Facellian was deposed, so I did not actually see the jewel until its second awarding to Gurborian by Lord Baron Norandor at this just-past New Year’s Assembly. Mereth did not press the matter, but I suspected that she did not entirely believe my disclaimer.
When by her unnatural touch, Mereth identified the writer of the ancient journal as ELSENAR, I had to grip the arms of my chair to avoid crying out. I was appalled that she should utter, of all names, that baleful name! It was because of the execrated Elsenar that we numbered Alizon’s very years by the form “Since the Betrayal.” The indelible stain upon the Line Sired by Krevonel had been the tradition that we descended ultimately from Alizon’s Lady Kylaina and the treacherous mage Elsenar. It was for that reason that we designated Krevonel as our original Foresire. Reputedly, he had been the elder whelp of Elsenar’s siring, but no Alizonder could possibly want to claim Elsenar as Foresire.
By our reckoning, one thousand fifty-two years ago, Elsenar and the equally foul mage Shorrosh had betrayed our Foresires, who had courageously ventured through an ensorcelled Gate into the then empty land of Alizon. That those two ancient and untrustworthy mages proved to have come from Escore (according to Elsenar’s fiendish journal) only increased my aversion to Gurborian’s present-day determination to seek out more such linkages, courting Escorian ruin for Alizon yet again.
We had always been taught that after the mages had destroyed the Gate, severing all access to our original homeland, they then vanished, abandoning our Foresires with no provisions except for the few hunting animals and food plants they had previously brought through the Gate. Those initial years had been starkly intolerable, but gradually, our Foresires succeeded in devising a new Alizonder society. Except for Chordosh, whose name lingered on as a Moon Name, they set aside their former gods, since their godly powers stemmed from our original blood soil, forever reft from us. To replace the lost gods, they developed over the years a system of veneration of the Foresires, which waxed and waned in prominence and degree of devotion according to the will of each successive Lord Baron. In order to preserve appropriate respect among the packs, the early Lords Baron instituted bodies of official Venerators to carry out the ritual duties required, including the breeding and sacrificing of shriekers.
As I contemplated the ancient origins of our ways, I was jarred to realize that this very day was Veneration Day, Alizon’s singular year-day set apart between the ninth and the tenth days of the Moon of the Knife. On Veneration Day, the series of observances culminated in the largest mass sacrifice of shriekers, signifying our recognition of the Foresires. I had never before been absent from those ceremonies.