"It is inconvenient for you, I am sure, but may I suggest that you do not stop at the nearest Arcana House in Ashencaere for another attempt? As matters stand, there no longer exists a desperate need for secrecy, but advertisement is still undesirable. Can I assume that Therin an Selvar does not know the entirety of the tale?"
"The strength of the spell informed on the caster’s identity," Medair replied, finding herself falling into the same pattern of speech as Cor-Ibis. "But only as one of four. Adept an Selvar did not question me closely, having received the impression that the geas extended to discussion." She paused, turning over her options. "We did speak of a colleague of the adept – a man called Hendist – who had been called away on duty for the Kyledran Crown. Something about smuggling, or border taxes, they were not at all clear. I was not certain if this man was among all the various charred folk, so I did not mention the matter."
"You gave your word not to speak of it at all," Jedda las Theomain said, cold accusation.
"Even so," Medair replied, remembering abruptly that she hated White Snakes. Did they think that no Farakkian had honour?
Cor-Ibis turned his head, a hint of the invalid in the care he took, and rested his silver-lit eyes on the Ibisian woman for a full ten breaths. He looked patient, an expression which was effective indeed in silencing the female adept. Hostility suddenly thickened the air and Medair was forced to revise her assumptions about Keris las Theomain. She was not, as Medair had assumed, a supporter of Cor-Ibis. Had the ex-ward not said something about being a close friend of the current Kier? Was las Theomain with the party to monitor Cor-Ibis' activities? Did this mean the Keridahl Avec and the Kier were at odds? Politics and intrigues and she had no place in them.
"I hope I am not the reason you purchased that charm, Kel ar Corleaux," Cor-Ibis continued, as if he had never paused.
Medair automatically lifted a hand to touch the necklace, which he could apparently also sense. A formidable mage indeed. She had no intention of trying to explain the Decians, and hid her unease in increasing blandness.
"Not at all, Keridahl. This is more a matter of a person whose horse I…borrowed, who I expect is in an ill-humour. And I don’t even have the horse any more – it was that bay which ran off when you so inconsiderately changed shape."
Cor-Ibis inclined his head to one side. "An eventful journey. I am sorry to have caused you such inconvenience, Kel ar Corleaux. Unfortunately, I must continue to do so. Can I hope that Athere is not too far out of your way?"
"A little further east than I was intending." Medair shrugged, inwardly pleased because he had as she wished assumed she’d stolen the horse on his behalf. She also noticed, as the neat braids framing his face swung out of the way, that he only wore a single adept’s sigil of silver in his right ear, despite two piercings. It meant his wife was dead, or the marriage bond broken. She ignored the possibility of sympathy and turned to tackle her questions head-on.
"Since it seems I cannot yet leave your company, would it be too great a request, Keridahl, to know the why behind that fight in Bariback Forest? I have thought up an explanation or two and would appreciate knowing whether I had guessed correctly."
White-lashed lids dropped, veiling the silvery eyes. There was a little silence, during which Medair could practically feel Keris las Theomain restraining herself. The woman had not hidden her opinion of Medair, but she had been rebuked twice in a manner so restrained it was crushing, and her rank was very much less than this man’s.
Cor-Ibis, Medair decided, was not in the slightest bit surprised by her question. Any sensible person would have been expecting it. It seemed this particular mannerism was a sign of amusement. No. Something else.
"It would be churlish indeed to deny such a request," he said, still without breaking from the mode of polite courtesy. "It appears, from what you have said to Keris las Goranum, that all which remains to be told is what prize was fought over in the Forest."
"Smuggling and border taxes," Medair said, with the tiniest hint of cheer. "Not Koltan brandy, one presumes."
He smiled, a species of open good humour which she again found startling. But a White Snake who smiled was still…no more her enemy than any other. She would be forever having to cut off such thoughts as these, if she was obliged to remain in the company of these people. It would do her no good to gloom and glower and nurse her grievances like a Medarist.
"Not Koltan brandy," Cor-Ibis agreed. "But before I go on, I have a question for you, Kel ar Corleaux. The scene of the battle – you identified those involved readily enough. Did you have any impression as to the victor of that messy little skirmish?"
Medair contrived not to appear concerned by this question. "No," she replied. "It didn’t seem as if any care had been taken over the dead. Everyone was where they’d fallen, unless, perhaps, there was yet another party involved and they’d taken off all their dead. Most of the bodies were well-crisped, besides." She shuddered, recalling the scent of cooked meat. "That spell was decems old by the time I reached the site," she added.
"Unfortunate," he said. "I would like very much to know who survived that wholly inadvisable casting. Well, you are aware, I presume, of the situation between Palladium and Decia? This is–" He paused as she shook her head.
"I’m not, no. There was some fuss about Decia encroaching on Ennas Ashra, last time I asked, but that was Autumn."
"Indeed? In précis then, Decia encroached a little too far on Ennas Ashra. Producing some interesting claims about the legitimacy of the Corminevar succession, they made an highly abortive attempt to liberate Ennas Ashra in the name of the true heir to the Silver Throne."
Doubtless those steady silvery eyes caught her sudden stillness, but Medair’s voice, Herald-trained, was perfectly calm when she spoke: "How do they base this claim? I had not heard of any who could possibly prove a more direct descent than Kier Inelkar." But she would dearly like to know everything about such a one. Behind her, she heard Avahn las Cor-Ibis shift position, and knew she was not keeping her thoughts well enough hidden.
"A descendant of Prince-Elect Verium, we are told," said the soft voice. "This heir apparently possesses various tokens and documents to indicate a liaison between the Prince-Elect and a woman called Cathale an Sendel. It is difficult to discover the truth of the matter. Extensive research shows us only that Cathale an Sendel was at the Silver Court during the relevant period and gives no indication as to whether she had any association with the Prince-Elect, let alone was carrying his child when the Niadril Kier took Athere. Such, however, is the basis of the claim."
Medair was in a dark, distant place, a few nights before she said goodbye to Jorlaise. She had noticed two heads bent towards each other and thought with disgusted amusement that Verium had made yet another conquest. The timing was right. The timing was all too right.
From the vantage of that distant place she looked towards a colourful blur which resolved into dragonflies dancing in the patterns of Illukar las Cor-Ibis' robes. It brought her back to herself.
"If such a child existed, it would not be legitimately heir. Verium died with his father; he could have had no chance to acknowledge a child." Her tone was flat.
"Yes, there are several points of dispute to the claim, whatever the truth," Cor-Ibis agreed, continuing to take note of her reactions. "It is an excuse, not a legal pivot, and serves best as a rallying cry. Perhaps, if the move had not come from Decia, so long an enemy of Ennas Ashra, it would have been more effective. Perhaps not. As it was, the country failed to rise up in support of the so-called heir. Few lives were lost on either side. Something of a non-event, except that it made a true conflict almost inevitable.