Storm Breaking v(ms-3 Page 34

  "Here here," said another voice, one that Karal recognized after a moment as Kerowyn's.

  Oh, my! That was unexpected! And Karal could think of three or four Council members who matched that particular statement, too! It seemed that after treachery and invasion and war and Alliance and more war and mage-storms, even Selenay's patience had begun to run short.

  And about time, too. It was all very well to say that those three or four had been loyal during the worst troubles, and that loyalty deserved reward, but there was a limit. It was not wise to let the shortsighted continue to have authority in a situation like this one. Better to find them some position with rank and privileges and no authority, if Selenay still felt impelled to reward them. Right now, being too shortsighted could very well cost lives.

  She might not see any reason to continue to reward these people; and that wouldn't be all that bad either. Sometimes the hand of censure needed to be used in order to make people believe it would be used, even against those who thought themselves above censure. In the words of the Shin'a'in, "Use the whip to get the horses out of the burning stable."

  He was tempted to add that to the notes, but those were the kinds of purely personal observations that Tarrn had warned him against, and he kept them to himself.

  :There are two Councillors that ought to be given the sack right here and now,: Altra observed with irritation. :One of them is not entirely certain he believes in the intelligence of Companions. How can we expect him to plan for a magic-fed disaster? And the other is so wrapped up in why his district needs protection more than any other that he'll waste valuable time and probably try to divert resources he's not entitled to.:

  Altra didn't have to describe the offending members; Karal knew them well enough from that notation of their personalities. :It's Selenay's Kingdom and Selenay's Council,: he reminded the Firecat. :If you'd like to make a recommendation as a Karsite representative, I'd do so privately to her. I'm sure that she would have no difficulty speaking with you after this is over.:

  :I'm not such a fool as to make one publicly!: Altra snapped, and shook his head until his ears flapped. :Now I'm more than ever pleased that you're out of there. You don't need to have to deal with these idiots; they'd probably start blaming you for the Cataclysm! And I don't need to be there either; I'd be tempted to wind around their ankles as they started descending a staircase, and be certain of getting them replaced by someone with a bit more reasoning ability than a brick of cheese.:

  He managed to send a mental image of himself coiling around the legs of the stupidest of the two Councillors, and of the man pitching down the staircase in a very comical fashion.

  :Bloody-minded today, aren't we?: Karal observed.

  :Vkandis help any rodent within a league of here,: Altra replied. :When this session is over, and after I've spoken to Selenay, I'm going hunting.:

  :You won't have to go far,: Karal told him. :The Shin'a'in were complaining about mice in the horse grain. Think you can lower your dignity for a bit of mousing?:

  Altra just snorted.

  The Council session proceeded with admirable dispatch after that particular outburst. For his part, Karal admitted to himself that he was acting in some ways precisely like those unfortunate Councillors who could not or would not believe in the disaster threatening just below the horizon. He was conducting some parts of his life—as in, pursuing his interest with Natoli—as if nothing whatsoever was going to happen to change that life. And he was not going about in a state of barely-suppressed panic either. But the truth was that what he and Natoli did or did not do was not going to make a bit of difference to the Storms or the resolution of the problem, assuming there could be one. Neither was going about in a cloud of fear going to help resolve their difficulties. Fear wasn't an emotion you could sustain for weeks at a time either, so why try to keep himself in a continual state of near-panic?

  But what he could do, he was doing, and at least one of his observations might turn out useful. It had occurred to him that the workshops had remained pristine and intact—more so, even, than the stored weapons—and that there might be even more shielding on them. Or perhaps there was a natural property of the stone, as there was of silk, that insulated everything inside from the effects of magic. Since they had always kept the hatchway open, there was no way to tell, and no one really wanted to volunteer to be shut inside just now.

  Natural or not, it would have made sense to have the workshops protected from the possible effects of the weapons stored above—the more so as the workshops could serve as a shelter in case something up here went wrong. Or, alternatively, if something went wrong down there, the weapons stored up here would be unaffected.

  But the workshops would make the safest place for those who were not involved to wait out the last Storm—and perhaps, for all of them to do so, if it turned out that there was nothing they could do. There was room enough for all of them, their supplies, and their attendant Shin'a'in friends to wait in a fair imitation of comfort. It would be difficult for Florian and the Shin'a'in horses to get down the staircase, but not impossible. The one drawback the place had was that it was at a level lower than the tunnel in—and if the stored weapons were affected—they might find themselves literally sealed inside, as the rock melted and ran or the remains of the building shook itself apart.

  But if they waited in the tunnel or on the Plain outside, there would be no escape. He'd already discussed using the workshops in this way with the Shin'a'in, and they had agreed with him, going so far as to carry half of the supplies down there and store them, and making plans to evacuate the camp above into the workshops when the time came.

  And as for the folk of the surrounding land, well, for the first time since the Sundering of the Clans, Shin'a'in and Tayledras were living together. More than three-quarters of the Clans were off the Plains and distributed among the nearest Vales. Some others had chosen to go to trade-cities and the like, where they had contacts or relatives.

  Those remaining were heading South rather than North or West, taking with them all of the breeding horses and other herds, for only the baggage beasts and personal strings could be accommodated in the Vales. They were under the escort of the fighters of Kerowyn's old mercenary company, the Skybolts—those few who had retired or elected not to remain in Valdemar. They had returned to Bolthaven and formed a smaller company with the sole duty of guarding the Bolthaven mage-school run by Quenten, the town of Bolthaven, and the annual Shin'a'in Horse Faire. The herds would be safe in the wide and gentle Rethwellan valley below the fortified mage-school, as they would be safe in the hands of those who had benefited from the generosity of Kerowyn's Shin'a'in relatives in the matter of most excellent Shin'a'in-bred mounts.

  Before too many more days had passed, the Plains would be empty of almost everyone but the little group here in the heart of the crater that was the Dhorisha Plains. A stranger would, for the very first time, be able to cross from one side to the other without hindrance.

  Not that anyone would be stupid enough to try. The weather alone ought to prevent such an idiotic course. Only the Shin'a'in knew where game lurked in the winter; only the Shin'a'in had fuel sources and tents made to withstand the killing blizzards the Storms had brought. And in a landscape of endlessly rolling white hills with no landmarks, it would be suicide for most to try to navigate across the bowl of the Plains.

  Besides, the Kal'enedral who were left were not your normal border-guards. It was not too bloody likely that anything would move into the Plains that they didn't know about the moment the breach-of-border occurred. And under the current circumstances, it would not be wise for anyone to assume that the Star-Eyed was not personally watching the borders. She would not even have to intervene directly in the event of an intruder; simply dumping a foot of ice on the cliffs ringing the Plains would prevent anyone but a skilled ice climber from getting down into the Plains proper. And dumping another foot or two of ice and snow on him while he was climbing, or arranging for an ava
lanche along the cliff, would see to it that not even an expert ice climber set a single living toe on the Plains below.

  Good heavens, I'm as bloody-minded as Altra! Karal realized, as he serenely contemplated the notion of intruders turned into ice sculptures. But then again, they couldn't really afford to be anything less than ruthless now. The escort of Kal'enedral who remained to care for them had put their lives in the hands of their Goddess to do so, and knew it. Not only was there a good chance that the Tower would not survive the final Storm, but they were defending an indefensible position.

  The Kal'enedral had defended the Tower in the past by keeping people far away from it; if there was a "lowest geographic point" to the crater that was the Dhorisha Plains, this Tower was probably cradled in the bottom of it.

  Most of the Swordsworn had remained with the Clans, and rightly, to protect them during the evacuation. What if someone deliberately chose this moment to come looking for the Tower with a mind to stealing one or more of the weapons still in it? There would not be much that anyone could do to stop him if he came with sufficient force. It would have to be someone who was completely mad, but as the existence of Ancar and Falconsbane proved, there were people who were that mad, that power-crazed, to take such a chance.

  But given all that this little group of seekers represented, the Star-Eyed would probably take care of such an expedition Herself—and if She didn't, it was just possible that Vkandis would.

  Just as he thought that, a lull appeared in the discussion, and Karal decided to do more than add an observation to his notes. "It has occurred to me just now," he said slowly, "that there is a source of possible protection, at least for those of you outside the Tower."

  "What's that?" someone asked warily.

  His ears burned, for he might be stating the obvious, but it seemed stupid not to mention this. "Ah... prayer," he said diffidently. "Divine intervention. I mean, have you had people really concentrating on asking for help from other sources?"

  "That is no bad answer," Lo'isha interjected, before anyone else could say anything. "If our Star-Eyed is like your gods, that could be a fat hare to pursue. You see, She only responds to peril quite impossible for mortals to deal with, and only if asked. Otherwise, She allows us to handle it ourselves. Your gods may only be waiting to be properly asked."

  "Vkandis has traditionally been the same way," Karal confirmed. "I don't know what the gods do in Valdemar, but what is the harm in finding out?"

  "None, of course," Selenay said gently. "And in our own pride and insistent self-reliance, we often forget that option. We would not be asking for aid for ourselves against other peoples, after all. We would be asking for aid for all peoples against an implacable force we don't completely understand. Thank you, Karal, for not being afraid to state what should have been obvious. I will have the various notables draft up notices to their Temples to that effect."

  Now Karal blushed, but with pleasure, and Altra's deep purr vibrating his feet, was all he needed to gauge the depth of the Firecat's approval. He glanced sideways at Lo'isha to find the Shin'a'in gazing at him with a thoughtful smile that broadened when their eyes met.

  Well, let's see if they're still pleased with me after this...

  "Please, Queen Selenay?" he added. "Don't exclude the Empire in those prayers. The people of the Empire haven't done anything to hurt us, and by now they must be in terrible straits. They've been suffering the mage-storms all this time, and from all Sejanes has told us, they need magic, they use it everywhere. For you, it would be as if fire suddenly stopped giving off heat."

  She nodded very slowly, with just a touch of reluctance. "I will remember to phrase it that way," she promised. "And to remember that we have no quarrel with all of the people of the Empire, only with those who harmed us."

  He stole a second glance at Lo'isha, then one at Sejanes. Lo'isha still seemed pleased with him, and the old mage positively beamed.

  And what about Altra, Vkandis' own representative?

  :What of me? I think you have done a very good thing.: Altra's purr did not let up at all. :You manage to keep in mind that a nation is made up of people, most of whom have little or no control over what their leaders do. That is twice now, that you have urged mercy, and that is very good.:

  Even for Vkandis, notorious for being a vengeful god?

  :Especially for Vkandis; please remember that religions are made up of people, most of whom have very little control over what their priests decree is doctrine. Keep in mind that given that the priests and the people have free will and the means to exercise it, gods may not always be able to control their priests either. So what the priests say, and the people believe, is not always the whole truth.:

  Karal blinked at that. Altra evidently decided Karal was ready for a little more doctrine smashing.

  :Time for a parable. Think of a very wealthy, very reclusive man with a dangerous reputation; say a former mercenary. Assume he lives in a town but seldom leaves his home. Nevertheless—and not wanting people to think he is trying to buy good opinion—he sends his servants out secretly, day after day, to help the worthy poor, the sick, the helpless. Then one day while he is coming in his front gate, a woman with a baby is attacked by ruffians, and he reacts as he was trained, draws his sword, and cuts them all down in the blink of an eye. Say that later, in the inquiry, it was learned that those same ruffians were old enemies of his, looking for his new home. Now what are the townsfolk going to say about him?:

  Karal knew very well what they would say. They would know nothing about the countless acts of mercy and charity that defined the man, they would know only the single moment of public bloodshed. At the least, they would call him vengeful, they would fear his temper, and might avoid his company. If there were those who envied him, it might even be whispered that he arranged for the attack on the woman in order to have an excuse for killing the gang. And although there would be a shred of truth in the stories of vengeance, it would by no means be the entire truth.

  :Vkandis—any god—is far more than His people make Him,: Altra continued. :It is the responsibility of the priest to lead them to that understanding, so that they do not attempt to limit Him to what they know.:

  That was what he had been groping for, these past several weeks! All the pieces for understanding had been there, but he just hadn't put them together in so elegant and simple a whole.

  :And just at the moment, the meeting is going on without your note-taking,: Altra added, bending to clean a paw with fastidious attention to detail. :Life is attention to both the large and the small, little brother. Pay heed to the sun, but watch your feet, or you'll fall ingloriously on your nose.:

  He bent hastily to his paper, with a soft chuckle inaudible to anyone else.

  The meeting went on for far too long, but Firesong managed to annoy enough useless Councillors to guarantee that the next meeting would be much shorter.

  It would have to be; Firesong had also cut short any attempt by the Councillors to turn the meeting into an accusation-and-blame session (with most of both being aimed at the group in the Tower). That, Karal found difficult to believe the first time one of them started. They seemed to be cherishing a variety of bizarre ideas about what was going on here, not the least of which was that they would be safe when the final Storm hit, and those outside the Tower would be the ones in the most danger.

  "What was wrong with those people?" he asked Lyam in amazement, as the members of their own group broke up and went off on their interrupted studies. "Where did they get those ideas?"

  The young hertasi shrugged, his tail beating softly against the floor where they both sat, organizing their notes and putting up their writing supplies. "They think we wallow in luxury here, that we spend all our time in idle pursuits and speculations that have no bearing on work or reality. They half don't believe in the Storms; they think we've got a fabulous life here and we're prolonging our stay here to continue to enjoy this glorious place and our freedom from work and responsibi
lity."

  Karal glanced around at their "luxurious surroundings," taking in the elegant appointments. Well, the inlaid stone floors were certainly beautiful, and there wasn't a ceiling like this one in all of Karse and Valdemar combined. But in between—

  True, the Shin'a'in pallets were colorful, and comfortable, but they weren't the equivalent of anything in the guest quarters at the Palace at Haven. And as for the rest, he didn't think that a single one of those Councillors had ever eaten, slept, or lived like this, and he didn't think any of them would ever want to. It wasn't as bad as the poorest Karsite inn workers endured, and in some ways it was a little more comfortable than the conditions of Vkandis' novices, but those highborn Councillors would probably think they'd been exiled to hard living at the end of the world.

  And what they'd make of butter-tea, I don't know. They might consider it a form of penance.

  "I don't know, Lyam," he said, finally. "Is this some sort of delusionary illness they're under?"

  The lizard did not have many facial expressions, but he could and did cock up a brow ridge. "Actually, it's distance. A fair number of our people back in White Gryphon assumed that because we had been given k'Sheyna Vale that we must be living in the midst of incredible luxury. Anything that's far off must be better than anything at home, you see." He snorted. "Actually, if you want luxury I'd recommend the courts of the Black Kings. I've been there, so I know. Silk sheets, private gardens, food worth dying for—now that is what I would call luxury!" He smacked his lips, or what passed for lips.