thought.
While all the gods were honored in Byrn, Love was perhaps the favorite. Depicted as a naked little girl playing with a fawn, Love was the gentlest and most forgiving of the divinities. Her Blesser had a unique, and powerful, role. When young men reached the age of thirteen, they were sometimes called to Love's Blesser. She would be their instructor in the art of physical loving; to be selected by her was an honor. Like all the priests, Love's Blesser had attendants, known as Tenders. These children were selected from the better families to serve for twelve years. When they reached the age of twenty, a Tender would either be chosen to replace the Blesser as the new Blesser of the temple, or else her time of servitude had ended and she returned home. Pedric had assumed that a child used to being around so much sexual activity would have matured into a woman with 'loose morals.'
'Just because the act is familiar to me doesn't mean I have no reverence for it. The Tenders, you know, don't participate in the Rite of Initiation, just the Blesser. And it makes me furious that people would think…!' Lorinda's tanned face flushed with anger and embarrassment. 'It's- it's very difficult to come back to the world outside of the temple when you've been sheltered there so long, that's all. And I've probably offended you and I'll get a lecture from my father tonight.'
Pedric shook his dark head. 'No, you've not offended me,' he said softly. 'Far from it.' He held up a finger, shook it, and in a lighter voice, he added, 'Let me try this again.'
He mockingly cleared his throat. 'Welcome back to Braedon, milady Lorinda. My name is Pedric Dunsan. How may I help you enjoy your evening?'
Lorinda laughed, then matched Pedric's playful artifice with her own. 'Ah, sirrah, I am quite parched. Might I have a sip of your wine?' She dropped the pretense and added innocently, 'Papa said it was awfully good, but I haven't been able to get the server's attention.'
'That I find hard to believe,' said Pedric as he handed her the glass. She placed her lips where his had been and took a drink. In another woman, such a gesture would have been deliberate flirtation. Lorinda merely wanted a sip of wine.
The gesture was highly erotic, despite — no, because of- its lack of contrivance. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that this woman was, in her own innocent fashion, far more dangerous than a thief with his knife, but he was utterly captivated. He had a dreadful suspicion that he was halfway in love with her already, and when she smiled and handed the goblet back, he surrendered utterly, and willingly fell the rest of the way.
In Deveren's library, Damir quietly pulled the heavy oak door closed behind him and turned to face Vandaris. A single lamp glowed on the small circular table. The table and two chairs, simply carved but functional and sturdy, were the only pieces of furniture, if one didn't include the massive bookcases that covered nearly every inch of bare wall. Deveren loved the smell and feel of books, but Damir wondered how much time his brother actually spent reading the books in his extensive library.
Vandaris seated himself and looked up expectantly. 'Well?'
Damir put a thin finger to his lips. He went to the window and cursed silently. Deveren hadn't had time to replace the window he had damaged when Damir had shown up a few nights ago, and the small hole in the pane let in the sweet scent of the blooming Garden. It also would make it easy for an eavesdropper to have perfect access to the conversation. Well, it couldn't be helped. Damir glanced left and right into the darkness, trying to sense the thoughts of anyone present. He saw, and sensed, nobody and turned back to face the head councilman of Braedon.
'How much has Deveren told you about me?' he asked. He walked back to the other end of the room, so that in order to watch him Vandaris would have to face the door, not the window. Damir had no desire to explain how that window had gotten broken.
Vandaris looked puzzled. 'Your reputation precedes you, my lord. Your good brother hasn't had to say much. I'd venture to say that every lawman and councilman in Byrn knows of His Lordship Damir Larath, ambassador of His Majesty. You've got a bit of a nickname in the diplomatic circles, you know.' His old eyes twinkled with mirth. 'They call you the Problem Solver.'
Surprised and amused, Damir laughed aloud. 'Do they really?'
'Mmmmm,' affirmed Vandaris. 'They say that if only the king would send you, and not his armies, to confront the Ghil, you'd have a treaty signed within a week.'
'Quite the compliment. And do you say that, Lord Vandaris?'
'I'm an old man, and I've seen a great deal in my day. I don't take the measure of a man by his reputation alone,' Vandaris replied. 'I like to see, and converse with, someone before I'll credit him with miracle making.'
'No miracles, alas, but I do indeed solve problems.'
'And what problem do you intend to solve here in Braedon?' Vandaris leaned back comfortably in the chair, but his eyes never left Damir's. 'What problem is too big, or delicate, or dangerous, that we simple councilmen here can't handle it?'
Tread gently, Damir thought. Of course, Vandaris was wary. He assumed that Damir was in Braedon because of the recent murders. What a shock that must have been. Damir wondered how they were explaining it; probably as a tavern brawl that had gotten out of hand. The populace might not question that-as long as the exact number of bodies hadn't been made public.
Damir hesitated, then decided to trust Vandaris. His spies had reported nothing but positive things about the chief councilman of Braedon. And his own delicate mental probing of the man revealed nothing to contradict those reports.
'The problem to be solved involves Braedon only indirectly. The real problem — ' a brief pause to sense once again for other minds; they were indeed alone '-originates in Mhar. That troubled country may very soon be in a state of war with Byrn. The young king wishes to conduct secret peace negotiations before things get to that point. In fact, he may come here seeking more than a place to negotiate-he may come to Braedon seeking asylum, at least temporarily. I can make the city safe to a certain degree, but I'll need cooperation from you and perhaps the entire Council. Do I have it?'
Vandaris had paled and his bright eyes had grown enormous. Damir wondered if the old man might have a seizure. Instead, he began laughing, and color flooded his pallid face. 'You lay down all the cards, don't you?'
Damir remained unruffled, smiling slightly. 'Hardly,' he replied. 'What kind of a gambler would I be if I did? And you haven't answered my question.'
Suddenly Damir sensed a presence. Simultaneously, behind Vandaris, a small, pale face appeared in the window. No, it was two small faces-one that of a child, the other the grinning visage of the stuffed doll she carried. He knew who it had to be at once. By Love's smile, Damir thought to himself, she does look like my Talitha. Horror transformed the hunger-sharpened features of the girl as she realized that she was locking gazes not with Deveren, as she had clearly expected, but with Damir. She quickly ducked out of sight.
Damir's face moved not a muscle as, waiting for Vandaris's reply, he moved casually over to the window and leaned against it, his hands linked loosely behind his back. 'Can we count on your cooperation-and discretion?'
'I'd need to see some sort of proof that this will occur,' Vandaris hedged. 'And I'd need to be able to speak to a few of my men-the ones I'd trust with my own life.'
Damir hesitated. He was used to ordering, not asking, but the situation was delicate and risky. 'Very well. I have documents in my room, signed by His Majesty. I'm sure that you recognize the royal seal. As for your men, I'd like the names of those whom you feel you can trust before you speak with them. I have to make certain that I can trust them, too. I'm sure you understand.'
Damir kept his voice level as he opened one palm toward the window. He felt a small piece of parchment scratch along his hand and he closed his fingers around the note. It crinkled audibly, and Damir spoke to cover the sound.
'If you would accompany me, I'm sure I can assuage your doubts.'
'Not that I don't believe you,' began Vandaris, concern crossing his still handsome, honest face. 'It's merely that I cannot commit the Council or the town of Braedon without being absolutely certain.'
'I understand perfectly. I'd expect the same myself. Caution has saved many a life — and reputation.' He moved away from the window and extended his empty hand toward the door. Vandaris nodded and moved ahead of him. Damir followed after, casting a swift glance back toward the window. The little ghost-girl was gone.
