The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise (80 page)

“Good of you,” said Ninianee, though she thought such observances were part of his duties.

“I hear you’ve been told about Hoftstan Ruch  – a terrible thing.”  He bent forward as if to impart a personal message to Ninianee.  “I wish I could give you news of your sister or your father, but so far, nothing.”

“How unfortunate,” said Ninianee.  “But such is the way of magic.”

As if he knew what she meant, Merinex said, “Everyone knows magic has its limits.”

Ninianee heard a sound at the door, and said, “I think this must be our little meal.”

“Yes,” said Doms.  “We’re both hungry.”

Merinex swung around and gave Doms a hard look.  “Vildecaz no doubt owes you a debt of gratitude, Yaolaj,” he said grandly.

“Vildecaz doesn’t owe me anything,” said Doms at his most matter-of-fact, and went to open the door.

Zhanf signaled Merinex, and said quietly, “If you would give the Duzeon and the Yaolaj a little time together, you and I can discuss how to deal with this return.”  He glanced at Ninianee.  “We’ll continue our discussion then.”

“A fine notion.  There are rites we should perform, and a ceremony the people will expect.  A meal is necessary, of course, and the usual festivities.  With First Day approaching, a greater celebration will be expected.”  Merinex respected Ninianee again, smiling eagerly as he watched General Rocazin carry in a broad, well-laden platter.  From far down the hall came the echoey sound of singing.

“Your people welcome you home,” said General Rocazin as she set down the tray.  “Your return has been eagerly awaited.  The people of the Duzky have offered to the Six Founder Gods and Goddesses every ten days since the Twelfth Month began. ”  She watched Merinex and Zhanf leave the room, and added, “It has been a hard time for most everyone.”

“But singing,” said Ninianee, feeling touched by this unexpected outpouring of good-will.

“They’re relieved to have you back,” said General Rocazin, smiling faintly.  “There’s something I want to say to you, but this may not be a good time.”

“Say what you will, General Rocazin,” Ninianee invited.

General Rocazin considered the offer, then said in a rush, “A few days before he died, Ruch and I were talking about the state of mind of the people of the Castle.  He said then that he thought they all behaved as if they feared you and your sister and father had been driven away by some malefic force.  At the time I thought little of his remark, since he had nothing to support it,  but now I am sure he sensed something, though it may have been his own danger, not yours.”  Her brows arched as if to punctuate what she said, implying there was more than polite purpose in her remarks.

“That doesn’t sound like the kind of thing Ruch would say, not without some kind of evidence to support it,” Ninianee observed, her words catching in her throat as she began to comprehend she would never see him again.  “He usually wasn’t vague or imprecise in his remarks.”

“No, it doesn’t sound like him, but it is the kind of observation – ” General Rocazin stopped as she studied Doms.

Doms made a half-respect.  “There are many things Duzeon Ninianee will need to learn about in the next few days.  She will gather her information before she makes any but the most urgent decisions.  What you’ve told the Duzeon is valuable to her, particularly since your concern for this Castle and its people has never been in doubt, has it?”

“No; never,” said Ninianee for General Rocazin.  “I’ll rely on you in the coming days to keep me fully informed of all that has transpired in my absence, General.”  She nodded to Doms.  “Thank you for taking such good care of Vildecaz Castle, General Rocazin.  Doms is right to recognize your service.”

There was a softening of Rocazin’s features.  “You’re doing much good for this Duzky and for your family, Duzeon,” she said to Ninianee.

“So are you,” said Ninianee, returning the respect.

* * *

By the time the celebrations of First Night had ended, Ninianee had received more than thirty reports on Vildecaz from all the divisions of labor and activity within its precincts, accepted the good wishes from the Provo Magsto from the Library of Duz Kinzyrach, heard the year-end shipping totals from harbor-master of Valdihovee, listened to the acrimonious congratulations of Maeshar of Otsinmohr  – “If you had told me you were holding out for a Yaolaj, I’m sure I could have found you a better one that the one you’ve chosen,”  – been presented with tokens and gifts from the major Guilds in the Duzky of Vildecaz, and agreed to meetings with many of those who had called upon her for various convenient days during the next two weeks.  She had joined all the guests in a lavish feast accompanied by a consort of musicians playing traditional First Day songs.  The ceremonies had ended  with sanctioned offerings to Agnith, the Preternatural; Hevomaj, the Stalwart; Tsoraj, the Enduring; Lenchmai, the Informer; Bandikrion, the Destinizer, and all manner of lesser gods and goddesses.  The whole of the Great Hall had rung with festive sounds, and as the guests departed to their private apartments or their guest-rooms, there was a an air of jollification that no one thought the least inappropriate.  By the time the spell-hounds performed their nightly patrol of the Castle, she wanted nothing so much as another four days on the Boarthine Plateau with only Doms and drouches for company.

“Why so morose?”  Doms asked as he sat beside her in the smaller Reception Room while the spell-hounds padded through the upper floors of the Castle.  He was unusually grand in a hupslan of bronze Adamine-velvet with a heavy gold chain around his neck. 

“I’m just tired,” said Ninianee, taking off her Duzine coronet. She was in a gaunel of pale-grey-green Fahnine silk worked in a pattern of vines, an elegant, simple garment studded with tourmalines and moonstones.  “And I wish Erianthee were here.”

“After a night like this one, that’s hardly surprising,” said Doms and then lowered his voice.  “Do you have any more impressions about those wooden jars Magsto Zhanf found?”

“I?  No, I don’t.  But I haven’t had much time to think about them.”  She stretched slowly.  “I suppose I’ll have to put my mind to it during the next couple of days.”  She wound one tight, red ringlet around her first finger.  “I find it strange that they could remain hidden so long.  The spell-hounds should have found them, shouldn’t they?”

“Not necessarily,” said Doms with a care that suggested he had thought much about this.  “They may have been cloaked by deception-spells.  Or if the spells in the jars were set by someone known to the spell-hounds, someone whose magic they know . . . ” He left this all unfinished.

“You can’t think my father would do such a thing,” she protested vehemently.  “It isn’t in his nature.”

“No, not your father.”  He coughed diplomatically.  “You know better than I do that there’s more than one magician in this household.”

“And I know that they have their talents and their limitations, as do all of us.”  She wished he would tell her what was on his mind, but she didn’t plan to force him into  revealing more than he was ready to.

“Magsto Zhanf and I had a long talk yesterday.  There was much that we needed to discuss.  He explained a great deal more about the spell-mummies, and the wooden jars.  I think you should let him tell you what he’s decided about them, and then you can determine what’s best to do.”

“My, aren’t you being cryptic,” she marveled, then held up her hand.  “Can we discuss this in the morning, when my feet don’t hurt and I’m not jittery with fatigue?”

“Certainly,” he said without any discomfiture.  “I’ll be glad for a good night’s sleep, myself.”

She regarded him steadily, unable to set aside the questions Doms had awakened in her.  “You think Zhanf is on to something?  Would you think that it’s important?”

“I think it’s possible,” he answered carefully.  “Something has been allowed to flourish here, and you can tell that it has functioned more reliably than most magic.”

“Do you think . . . my father had anything to do with it?”  Ninianee asked.

“I don’t know.  He may not have been able to identify it on its own.” Doms tried not to yawn and almost succeeded.

“But he always strove to protect us,” said Ninianee.

“Certainly,” said Doms.  “But you know he was damaged by Yulko Bihn’s dishonorable attack, and these other factors may not have been as obvious to him as they would have been had he not been blighted.”  He said it kindly, and added, “You know your father has persevered against deep malice, a malice that appears to feed on itself.  It’s hardly surprising that he hasn’t been able to identify the source of – ”

Ninianee got to her feet.  “I know my father was . . . damaged by Bihn’s attack  –  everyone knows that  –  and that in spite of everything, he hasn’t been able to eradicate the power of that attack.  It hasn’t faded, as you so rightly observed.  Over time, I would expect  –  ”  She folded her arms.  “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“You mean that the force loosed against him more than twenty years ago still works against him.”  Doms regarded her, his light-blue eyes keen.

Senijer ae-Miratdien came to the door, holding Foluch and Senkei on their leashes.  “All clear above-stairs, Duzeon,” he reported with a respect.  “With twenty-three guests in the Castle, it took longer than usual to clear.”

“Thank you, ae-Miratdien.  You’ve had quite a busy night.” 

“Tomorrow won’t be much easier,” said the Captain of the Night Guard.

“Probably not.”  She inclined her head instead of getting up to return his respect.  As soon as she was gone, she returned to what they had been talking about.  “Yes, my father’s weakness hasn’t lessened in spite of all he’s done  –  that means the force has been renewed,” said Ninianee.  “Yulko Bihn comes to Vildecaz once a year, and as done so for as long as I can remember.  I’ve tried to find out what he’s doing while he visits.  I’ve set Merinex to watch him, but so far, nothing.”  She yawned.  “Hoftstan Ruch was wary of Bihn.  I wonder if he found out something that made him dangerous to Bihn?”

“To Bihn?  Hadn’t he left before Ruch was killed?”  Doms asked.

“He had, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have hired men, or other allies to do his will.  He didn’t bury the spell-mummies himself, that much is certain,” said Ninianee, stretching. 

“Because of the men I saw?”  he inquired.

“Not entirely, no.  The spell-mummies are heavy and awkward.  It would take more than one man to put them in place, unless the magician doing it is a Magstogorin, and not even my father was that powerful before his – “ She stopped, and went on in another tone,  “Doms, I’m sorry.  I’m half-asleep, and I’m not holding two thoughts together.   I want to be fully awake when we confer on these things.”  She stood up.  “I’m afraid I won’t remember half of what we’ve said, come morning.”

Doms came to her side.  “Then let’s go up to bed.  We’ll deal with this come morning.”

She fell in beside him, her coronet still dangling from her fingers.  “The one thing that bothers me, though.”

“What is it?” He put his arm around her as they went up the stairs.

“What if it isn’t Yulko Bihn doing it?  What if it’s someone else?  Then what?”  She expected no answer and receive none as they went down the long, dark hall to her room.

* * *

“You know we’ll have to have another celebration now you’re home, for everyone in the region,” Ninianee said to Erianthee as they sat in the warm dark of the bath-house on this, the third night of First Month.  Ever since Erianthee had arrived at the Castle in the hour before sunset, they had been surrounded by the excited, relieved, and merry staff of the Castle, but finally they had time to themselves, and were making the most of it, though midnight had passed two hours before, and both of them were hungry for sleep.  “We can talk to General Rocazin in the morning, after breakfast is over.”

“How long can we put it off?”  Erianthee asked.  “I’ve had enough rites and celebrations to satisfy me for a month.” 

“Not too long  – a week at most  – you know what the staff can be like, and they’re still fretting about Papa.  Why not simply get it over with?”  She sank down in the deep wooden tub so only her head showed above the water.

“I’d like a little time to . . . settle back in.”  Erianthee shook her head.  “I would like to have a day simply to walk the grounds, to have time to be part of the Castle.”

“Without fuss, you mean,” said Ninianee knowingly.

“And without functions needing my talent,” said Erianthee.

“Was the Court truly in as much disarray as you told us during our evening meal?”  She recalled the fierce storms that tore at the Boarthine Plateau at about the same time as the conjure-storm struck farther south, and supposed the northern blizzards must have been driven by the conjure-storm that ransacked the Porzalk Empire.

“I can’t tell you.  I’ve never seen anything like it, not even the hard storms that come in from the ocean some winters.  This was like an invisible army set upon destruction.  The wreckage left was on a scale I’ve only heard about in legends.”  She leaned back and sighed.  “I don’t blame Riast for being so determined to find out why he had been made the target for those spells.”  She signed, sinking lower in the water.  “I didn’t like being held there the way I was, as comfortable as the Emperor made me, but I did understand what his reasons for it were.”