War Maid's Choice-ARC (51 page)

There were other reasons, as well, of course.

“And who on the Council would you be sounding out?” Cassan asked after a moment. “In addition to my own sources, I mean.”

Seralk snorted.

“Father, I don’t begin to have your sources on the Council itself,” he conceded. “But, you know, even the hoariest Councilor tends to have an heir or two floating around. For that matter, even members of the Manthâlyr do, although I’ll admit few of
them
are going to run in the same circles I do. And while you may not have noticed,
some
fathers have a tendency to share their thoughts with those heirs of theirs.”

“Actually, I have noticed that, now that you mention it. Sloppy of them, but understandable, I suppose,” Cassan said, and heard something like a chuckle from his right, where his daughter Shairnayith had finished her meal and sat lingering with a fresh cup of hot chocolate. “Not that the Manthâlyr matters all that much.”

He grimaced in distaste. The Manthâlyr, the ancient and traditional assembly of the Kingdom’s commoners, had no real authority where the formulation of the Crown’s policy was concerned, although he supposed a wise monarch at least
listened
to them. The Manthâlyr did have the authority to vote to withhold any Crown tax on any free city or town—or free yeomen, for that matter—if the Crown
didn’t
listen to its members, after all. And, he conceded sourly, it was far more likely to weigh in in favor of Tellian’s insanity than against it, given the heavy representation of merchants and bankers in the Manthâlyr’s membership. The more far-sighted artisans and craftsmen might be wise enough to see what a flood of Axeman-made goods was likely to do to their own livelihoods, but the moneycounters wouldn’t care about that.

If this works out the way Yeraghor and I hope, perhaps it’s time we look into reducing the Manthâlyr’s authority still further
, he thought.
We’d have to be careful how we went about it, but if Tellian succeeds, there’ll be no stopping it from gaining still
more
power when Markhos hands the entire Kingdom over to the bankers and loansharks! And it’s not like
Tellian
would mind. He probably thinks that abortion of a “Parliament” they have sitting in Axe Hallow or that “Dwarfmeet” in Dwarvenhame are good ideas!

He brushed the thought aside and made himself smile dryly at his own heir.

“So what you actually have in mind is to take yourself off to Sothōfalas to wallow in dissipation with at least a dozen other equally dissipated young blades while peering at them through a drink-induced haze in an effort to pick their brains between goblets of wine in hopes their fathers may have been foolish enough to tell any of them what they were truly thinking. Do I have that approximately correct?”

“Actually, no, Father,” Seralk replied. “I was thinking more of doing that between tankards of ale.”

“Ah! Thank you for the clarification. That’s a
much
better idea!”

Shairnayith laughed out loud. Seralk grinned and raised his own chocolate cup to his father in a gesture of surrender, and Cassan smiled more broadly back at him. There was nothing at all wrong with his son’s brain when it wasn’t being hampered by his ingrained hostility for all things Bowmaster. It was, perhaps, unfortunate that he was also young enough to make keeping a rein on that hostility such a chancy proposition. Yet that certainly didn’t mean Seralk’s proposal didn’t have much to recommend it, and behind his smile, the baron’s brain was busy.

Actually, he reflected, Seralk’s idea was shrewder than it might have appeared at first glance. The gods knew young men’s tongues wagged freely and fathers—or
some
fathers, at any rate—sometimes did forget that unfortunate fact when it came to sharing information with their heirs, so it was likely a certain amount of discreet pumping would extract valuable information. Of course, Cassan’s sources were so much better than Seralk could possibly know that he was unlikely to discover anything of which Cassan wasn’t already aware. For example, he couldn’t know that “the rumors” weren’t simply “remotely correct.” In fact, those sources of Cassan’s had positively confirmed that the worst had already come to pass, although there was no way
Seralk
could know that at this point. And the proposal also had the virtue of being exactly what Cassan’s opponents would have expected out of his son. Given the nature of Cassan’s actual plans, having Seralk visibly pursuing a totally unrelated strategy might have a great deal to recommend it, if only as an exercise in misdirection.

On the other hand, it could also turn out to be a serious mistake if those actual plans of Cassan’s went awry.

As Cassan’s only son and the legal heir to the Barony of Frahmahn and the Lord Wardenship of the South Riding, Seralk was too important to risk casually. That was the real reason Cassan had kept him totally separated from his discussions with Yeraghor, Arthnar Sabrehand, and Talthar Sheafbearer. Seralk might share his hatred for Tellian of Balthar and his anger over King Markhos’ current policies, but his son could honestly testify that he’d never had any part in any actions anyone could construe as even remotely treasonous. And if Cassan’s more ominous suspicions about just how it was that Sheafbearer managed so persistently to come up with information he shouldn’t have been able to get should turn out to be accurate, Seralk’s ignorance would also protect him against any charges of associating with wizards.

If he became too obviously active in his father’s
open
efforts to influence the Council, however, it might become difficult to convince their enemies he wasn’t involved in
all
of Cassan’s plots and machinations...including the ones which were far from open. Of course, if the honesty and integrity of the accursed magi could actually be trusted, they’d be able to testify that Seralk wasn’t, although people being people, it was unlikely those enemies of Cassan’s would be willing to take the magi’s word for it.

The baron’s inward frown deepened, although no one could have suspected that from his merely thoughtful expression.

Despite his concerns about Seralk’s youthful impetuosity, he knew the young man was far from a fool. It was unlikely he’d press too hard or do anything outstandingly foolish, but he
did
represent the succession. As long as he personally wasn’t associated with any plots some pettifogging law master might consider illegal, the House of Axehammer’s ultimate position was secure. No king was going to attaint the heir of one of the Kingdom’s barons for treason unless he could prove conclusively to all of his
other
barons and lords warden that the heir in question had truly been guilty. Not unless he actually
wanted
to bring about a fresh Time of Troubles. Still...

“That might not be so very bad an idea at that, despite who had it,” he said finally. “I know you’re going to be out drinking and carousing with them anyway, so we might as well get some good out of all the money you’ll be wasting on beer and ale.”

“I’ll try to stay sober, or at least to avoid sliding down under the table until I’ve pumped their drink-addled minds clean, Father,” his son promised with a gleam in his eye.

“Good. And considering the fact that you’ve inherited my hard head where drink is concerned, you’ll probably even succeed...mostly. But”—Cassan’s teasing tone sobered—“remember not to be too obvious about it.” The baron raised one hand. “I trust you not to be heavy-handed, Seralk, but there are going to be a lot of eyes on you, including quite a few I’m sure you’ll never see. Given how...difficult things have been at court for the last few years, we don’t want to give any of Tellian’s friends something they could use to suggest you’re trying to actively oppose the King on this. Disagreement with Macebearer’s or Shaftmaster’s advice to the Crown is one thing, and no one could expect anyone of our house
not
to be in active opposition to Tellian of Balthar, but any suggestion of opposition to the
King
could hurt our position in Sothōfalas badly. Especially if any of those friends of Tellian could manage to convince him we were planning anything more...forceful than arguing against those mistaken advisors of his within the Council.”

“I understand, Father,” Seralk said seriously, “but you’ve always said being forewarned is the first step in being forearmed.”

“That’s because I’m a wise and insightful sort of fellow,” his father informed him with another smile. “And it probably wouldn’t hurt anything for you to agree with any of your fellow young hellions if
they
have anything less than flattering to say about Tellian or that bastard Bahzell.” The smile turned into a grimace. “And it’s fine for you to steer the exchange so they say as many unflattering things as possible, as long as you can do it without being obvious. Just be sure someone else
starts
the exchange. You need to bolster that reputation of yours for being the exact opposite of a hothead, especially since that...unfinished business with Trianal last year.” Cassan gave him a moderately stern look. “I understand the provocation, but sticking two or three feet of steel through someone isn’t always the most discreet possible way to remove the problem. Especially if you break the King’s Peace in the process.”

“Yes, Father.”

Seralk inclined his head in a respectful nod, then finished his cup of chocolate and set it back on the table empty.

“And now, Father, if I may be excused, I have to finish packing if I want to get out of here before lunch.”

“Of course you’re excused.” Cassan made a shooing gesture with both hands, and Seralk laughed as he pushed back his chair. “Just don’t forget to tell your mother goodbye!”

“Oh, I’m far too smart to do anything
that
stupid!” Seralk informed him, then gave him a more formal bow before he straightened, gave Shairnayith a smile, and headed purposefully out of the dining room.

“He’ll do fine, Father,” Shairnayith said, and Cassan raised an eyebrow at her. Unlike Cassan’s younger daughter, Lynaya, who was virtually a female duplicate of her father, Shairnayith had her mother’s brown eyes, dark hair, and petite stature. Outward appearances aside, however, she was much more like Cassan where it counted, and now those brown eyes regarded him thoughtfully. “Of course, I have to wonder exactly what it was you weren’t telling him about.”

“Not telling him about?” Cassan asked innocently.

“Father, I’ve never known you when you didn’t have at least a dozen irons in the fire at the same moment, but you’ve been remarkably...quiescent in the last year or so. Since I happen to know you’re not at all happy with what’s been happening in Sothōfalas, that suggests you’re keeping some of those irons of yours carefully out of sight. That discussion we had about Thorandas Daggeraxe suggests exactly the same thing to me. And the fact that you’re not discussing any of those irons with Seralk before you send him off to Sothōfalas suggests you’re deliberately keeping him clear of them. I, on the other hand, am merely a daughter. As such, there’s no reason I shouldn’t give my imagination free rein trying to ferret out what it might be you’re not discussing with him. Especially”—her brown eyes looked directly into his gray gaze—“given how directly they’re likely to affect my own life.”

Cassan’s expression sobered. He looked back at her for several seconds, then inhaled deeply and nodded.

“You’re right,” he acknowledged. “At the same time, I know you’ll understand there are many things going on right now that I can’t discuss with you or anyone.”

“Of course I do,” she said quietly. “I know exactly the stakes you’re playing for, Father. I don’t need to know all the details of how you plan to play the game, and I understand the reasons for holding your cards close to your tunic. I even understand that not telling me everything is one way of protecting me...exactly as you’re doing with Seralk. But I hope you understand why I want to know anything you can and want to tell me. You’re my father, and I love you. Even if it weren’t my responsibility to do whatever I can in our house’s service, my own heart would command me to assist you and your plans any way I can.”

“I know,” he said quietly, reaching across the table to cover one of her hands with his. He squeezed it gently, and felt the same pang at the heart of him that he’d felt the very first time he considered the information Talthar had brought back from Halthan.

He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t already been aware of Thorandas Daggeraxe’s interest in Shairnayith’s hand. And it was indisputable that Shairnayith, at twenty-four, ought to have been married years before. Yet she was the daughter and child of his heart. More than that, of all three of his children, she—more even than Seralk—understood the intricate, complex, sometimes deadly nature of the unending contest between the Kingdom’s great houses. There were times when he wished she, not Seralk, might have been his heir. The very idea was impossible, of course, and Shairnayith would probably have been vehemently opposed to it even if it hadn’t been. She was nothing at all like Tellian’s depraved, debased daughter, thank all the gods! The very thought of the most nobly born of Sothōii noblewomen actually coupling with one of those hradani
animals
was enough to make Cassan spew. If anything in the world had been wanting to confirm the weakness, corruption, and degeneracy of the entire House of Bowmaster, Talthar’s information that Leeana “Hanathafressa” had deliberately set out to bring a
hradani
to her bed would have provided it! Better—
far
better!—that she should have coupled with one of Tellian’s wolfhounds! That sort of insult to all Sothōii could be washed away only in blood, and one way or another, Cassan of Frahmahn would see that blood spilled. But unlike Tellian, he knew he would never have to blush for
his
daughter’s conduct, whatever else happened, and he felt a fresh flood of warmth as he looked at her.

Yet that very warmth explained why he’d taken no action for so long where Thorandas’ indirectly expressed interest in her was concerned. He didn’t want to give her up, didn’t want her to move away from him. The long, weary leagues between Toramos and Halthan would separate them, take away that closeness forever, and the very thought was enough to fill him with gloom. None of which meant he wasn’t going to have to do it anyway. That was what he’d discussed with her earlier that week.