Darkwind ground his teeth a little. It sounded too good to be true. Was it? Or was there a great deal that Need had eliminated in the name of an expedient explanation? She had known what they were going to do from the very moment they had begun planning it. She had even taken part in the discussions. But that did not prevent her from running her own schemes to augment theirs :Let me contemplate this for a moment before I answer you,: he hedged.
The sword sounded amused :Contemplate all you like. We've got the time, as long as you don't take a week. I know this is sudden, but I didn't want to break it to you until it was a reality. I'm the last person to tell you to rush into anything. I'm awake now.:
The mules flicked their ears at him as his hands tightened on the reins. If it had been anyone else telling him all this, he would never consider it seriously. Everything hinged on being able to trust someone they didn't know, had never seen, would not be able to contact directly. Someone they had never even dreamed existed.
But it was not just anyone claiming all this. It was Need. She was caution personified. She never trusted anything or anyone entirely - even less than Skif. If his instincts said to check something twice, hers would move her to check it a dozen times. She simply did not rush into anything; she left that to her bearers.
It followed, then, that she had already done far more about this "informant" than she had told him. Perhaps that was why it had taken her so long to report it. She had said that she had not wanted to tell him of this before it was a reality - and she had plenty of time and opportunity, if distance was no great deterrent to this contact. When it came right down to it, he had no idea what her abilities really were. So.
He weighed everything he knew about Need and her ways and decided to ask two questions.
:How long have you been cultivating this contact?: he asked :Is there more about him you can't tell me yet?:
She chuckled, as if she had expected those very questions :That's what I like about you, Darkwind. You're a suspicious one. To answer your questions, there's quite a bit I can't tell you about him yet, and I've been in one form of contact or another with him for some time. My indirect contacts started even before we crossed the border. I can't tell you how it all came about, but I can promise you that those who put me in contact with him are trustworthy entities.:
Entities? An interesting choice of words. One could describe the Companions as "entities." Were the Companions behind this?
:Not exactly, but something very like the Companions. Someone you would trust if I could tell you:
Something - oh - like the Swordsworn, then? The Kal'enedral had certainly been helpful in the past with regard to Falconsbane.
Need laughed :Persistent, aren't you? And a good guesser, too.:
He nodded, and his hands relaxed. In that case - it must be leshy'a Kal'enedral; that would explain a great deal. What the spirit-Kal'enedral were doing in Hardorn he had no idea, but poor Tre'valen had said that She had told him the interests of the Shin'a'in were now carrying beyond the Plains. Perhaps this was one of the things She had meant.
:Do I take it that you are bringing this through me and not through Nyara to spare her distress?: He could well imagine what unhappiness receiving any information about her father at this moment would cause. She didn't enjoy being used as bait for him, but it was the one useful thing she could think to contribute. He suspected that a burning desire for revenge held her steady in the day-today strain of being "staked out" like a stalking-horse. And as for actually seeing Mornelithe face-to-face again - he was certain that Nyara tried not to think of that. She probably tried not to think of him at all. This would not help her precarious peace of mind.
:Precisely.:Need seemed very satisfied with his sensitivity :Ah - have you noticed that on the whole she is looking and acting more - human? One of the things my time with her has accomplished is that I am able to find the memories of what the Beast did to her. Knowing that, I can do some things to reverse his changes.:Need sounded smug again. He did not in the least blame her.
:I'm no god or Avatar, but there are a few things I can still do.:
:I had noticed. My plaudits, Lady. You may not call yourself Adept, but you cannot be far from one.:He smiled at her raspy chuckle.
:So, can I count on you to break this to the others? If you want to make it sound as if you've been in on this from the beginning, that's fine, if it makes the rest more inclined to trust the information.:Need apparently felt that she required his support on this; very well, she would have it. He assented readily. This was too great an opportunity to allow anything to spoil it.
:There is one small blessing in Nyara's lack of confidence in herself, Lady,: he pointed out :Poor little thing, she has been so used to thinking of herself as useless that it will not even occur to her that you might have brought this word to her, and not me.:
He sensed something like a sigh from her :Sad, but true. Well, Skif and I are working on that. And if all of this falls out as best as possible, she'II have a boost in that direction.:
The next village was coming up; he saw the huddle of buildings through a curtain of trees just beyond the first wagon. He could deal with all of this later. Right now there was a persona to keep up, a show to stage, and hopefully there would be no trouble from Ancar's men to complicate matters.
However, on that last, the odds weren't with them, and he knew it only too well.
The carnival-wagons drew nearer the cluster of buildings, then entered the edge of the town. He and Elspeth both sensed the tension as they drove through the village. The townspeople did not even gather to watch them as they passed through; instead, they watched furtively from their windows and doorways, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Their faces were even more haggard than was usual in Hardorn.
As the procession reached the common, the reason for the tension became clear.
More of Ancar's Elite, some in armor and some only in uniform, were gathered outside a large building on the edge of the common to watch them pull in. It looked as if there were about twenty or thirty of them. He had no idea what so many of the Elite were doing here in this tiny town; it seemed that they were garrisoned here on a permanent basis, but there didn't seem to be a reason for a garrison. No one in the last town had bothered to warn them about this - and it was something new since the last time any of the wagon-folk had been here.
Whatever it was that caused the Elite to be here - well, the carnival was running a risk in setting up tonight. The Elite always had money and few enough places to spend it. But one of the reasons that they always had money was that they were in the habit of taking whatever they wanted. They seldom needed to actually buy anything, and when they did - well, there were always plenty of people to steal more money from under the guise of "donations for the troops."
Still, it was difficult to force a good performance out of an artist. A frightened musician forgot words and music; a terrified dancer would move like a wooden doll. A juggler under duress dropped things. And no one could give any kind of a performance with a sword at his throat, or a knife pointed at a loved one. The effect of terror on a performer would only be funny for a limited number of times before the amusement began to pall. If luck was with them, some of these men had figured that out by now.