Duratan intervened. “You cannot seriously propose to travel in the Dales,” he objected. “Although more than twenty years have passed, the wounds Alizon inflicted upon the Dales have still not entirely healed. You would be far likelier to be met with a sword edge than a journey cup.”
Kasarian regarded Duratan as if he were a particularly willful hound refusing to follow a clear trail. “I am accustomed to living with a sword edge ever near my throat,” he retorted. “Why should that circumstance hinder the making of reasonable plans? When I alone can satisfy the stricture, the conclusion is obvious: I must go.”
“But can you so easily abandon your baronial duties in Alizon for such an extended journey?” Nolar inquired. “Besides, troubling questions must arise concerning Gurborian’s sudden disappearance. Might you not be suspected of some complicity?”
Kasarian shook his head impatiently. “I answer only to the Lord Baron, and then only if I witlessly fail to make sufficient preparations in advance. Gurborian provoked many powerful enemies. Before I left Krevonel Castle, I ordered Bodrik to dispatch in two days’ time a persuasive letter to the Lord Baron suggesting four plausible causes for Gurborian’s abrupt absence. I further informed the Lord Baron that I should be engaged for a period of weeks in a needful evaluation of my most distant estates. I shall not be expected in Alizon City until I choose to return there.”
From her position in the hall, Jonja half rose from her chair. “Why would you commit yourself to this quest?” she demanded. “You have made clear to us your utter aversion to objects of Power. Do you expect us to believe that you would personally bear Elsenar’s mighty jewel over the vast distance to surrender it to its very master?”
“You speak plainly to me,” Kasarian replied. “I shall be equally forthright. No, I do not welcome the burden of this accursed jewel, yet it belongs to my Foresire, who, if he presently exists, commands it be restored to him. I perceive this journey as an imperative duty to our Line of Krevonel. I also venture to suggest that it would be advantageous for our collective interests should our factions be strengthened by the backing of so puissant a mage. Surely he would incline toward granting that boon to his rescuer.”
While Kasarian spoke, I had reluctantly reached my own decision. I handed Nolar my written comments. “The ruins you must seek,” she read aloud, “lie near the border of the Waste, the whole breadth of the Dales inland from the sea coast. You may encounter severe peril in nearly every inhabited area.”
Kasarian surveyed me ironically. “Lady, not long ago, I would have said that no foreign cur from outside our borders could live to penetrate Alizon City . . . yet you did.” Addressing the others, he added, “I have observed that the wits of you Lormt folk can be sharp beyond my previous imaginings. If you can craft a credible tale to explain my presence in the Dales, I shall willingly journey under its protection.” Pausing, Kasarian smiled suddenly, which softened the harsh angles of his face. He turned back to me and said, “You dyed your hair to improve your disguise, Lady. Could not mine be similarly darkened to placate the hostile eyes of the Dales?”
“I must say,” Morfew observed wryly, “I was not at all certain that Mereth could successfully impersonate an Alizonder baron. It is an even more difficult prospect to believe that you can deceive discerning Dalesfolk into accepting you as one of their own. You are far too pale all over, young man—you would have to soak your whole body in a bath of oak bark extract.”
“Perhaps not.” Nolar’s quiet voice drew our attention to her. “Have not children been sired upon Daleswomen by Alizonders?” she asked. “Kasarian might claim to be such a halfling.”
My hand trembled as I wrote, “I know of no such unfortunates who were . . . allowed to live. During the war, many Daleswomen took their own lives rather than bear children of shame.”
Kasarian had been listening intently, his head inclined a little to one side like an inquisitive hawk watching the grass below for signs of an unsuspecting mouse. “I was four when the invasion began,” he said. “To my knowledge, no mixed-breed pups were ever brought back from the Dales. It may be, however, that I can suggest a circumstance under which a mixed-breed of my age could reasonably claim existence. Formerly, Alizon dispatched raiding vessels which at times returned to port with captive breeding stock.”
Jonja’s eyes widened. “You cannot mean that you used captured women . . . . ” Her voice trailed off into appalled silence.
“Rumors of such events have reached us,” Ouen remarked coldly. “We had hoped they were mistaken.”
Kasarian did not appear at all perturbed by our obvious revulsion. “Do not you Estcarpians breed with the Sulcar at times to invigorate your lines?” he inquired. “We barons, of course, have always preserved our pure blood, but among the common folk, captured outside females have produced useful servants and workmen. Could I not represent myself as one such?”
With a heavy heart, I wrote, “In years past, some of our trading ships have been, we thought, lost at sea. We assumed that they had been sunk in storms, but . . . .” I could write no further. It was too painful to contemplate what horrid lives our tradefolk must have endured had they been taken to Alizon to serve as brood mares.
Nolar did not hide her repugnance when she declared, “We of Estcarp deplore and reject any form of slavery.”
Kasarian shrugged. “It has ever been so in Alizon,” he said. “The strong exploit and rule the weak.”
“As important as such matters are in the lives of our people,” Ouen asserted sternly, “we cannot at present address our divergencies. Whether we view this Alizonian practice as traditional or offensive, it exists, and perhaps we can make use of it in a constructive manner.”
“Suppose. . . .” Nolar looked at me with a rueful expression, as if she understood my barely restrained grief. “Suppose,” she resumed, “we say that Kasarian’s mother was aboard a trading vessel from the Dales—perhaps a coasting ship blown far enough out to sea to be intercepted by an Alizonian raider. Reared as an oppressed servant, he would have schemed to escape whenever an opportunity arose.”
“I can contribute the opportunity,” Jonja offered. “Three years ago, when Karsten clashed with Estcarp, all our lands were in an uproar. If ever a flight from Alizonian captivity could have succeeded, it would have been then, while the border with Estcarp was beset with thrusts against the spell barriers.”
Morfew rubbed his hands together. “And I foresee the necessary linkage to Lormt,” he exclaimed. “Kasarian could have slipped into northern Estcarp and apprenticed himself to a wandering trader whose travels led the pair to Lormt. But what excuse can we offer for Kasarian’s dangerous foray into the Dales—surely not that he seeks Dales-kin of his presumed mother?”
I had finally controlled my internal turmoil of memories, and was able to write upon my slate, “Let us take account of the knowledge we possess. I know the Dales, and I know trade. As Morfew’s suggested apprentice, Kasarian could undertake a journey for his master. Among Lormt’s countless documents, surely there must be maps of the Dales. Let us say that upon one such old map, the merchant found a reference to a possible source for something valuable in trade . . . but not too valuable.” I stopped to think while Nolar read, then wrote my conclusion. “I know the perfect materiaclass="underline" lamantine wood. It is prized, but not so much so that a venture to seek it would attract brigands. It is also to our advantage that the area where Kasarian must pursue his search is near the Waste, which will likely discourage any offers to accompany him. Futhermore, I can write letters to my Sulcar friends to secure Kasarian’s sea passage, and to tradefolk in the Dales to request their aid to him along his way inland.”