The remainder of Lord Pieter’s caravan had now reached them. It consisted of two heavily laden wagons, twenty men-at-arms, and, to Tarja’s surprise, a number of veiled women riding side-saddle in front of the lead wagon. But the figure that caught his attention was a small, tonsured man, who glared at the Defenders suspiciously. Pieter turned as his party reached them and waved the priest to him. “Elfron! Come here! Joyhinia has sent her son to guide us to the Citadel.”
The priest rode forward and stared at the Defenders for a moment, before raising his staff and laying it expectantly on Tarja’s shoulder. When nothing happened, he withdrew the staff.
“He is who he claims to be,” the priest announced with satisfaction.
Tarja looked at the priest curiously. “Was there any doubt that I was not?”
Elfron’s expression darkened. “Only through eternal vigilance can the light of the Overlord be allowed to shine in its full splendor, Captain. The wicked glamors of the Harshini can be used to disguise one’s true nature. Had you been an agent of evil, you would be writhing in unbearable agony by now. Such is the power of the Overlord.”
“The Harshini are extinct. How do you know the staff works?” It was a dangerous thing to say. Xaphista’s priests were notoriously fanatical, but he couldn’t resist baiting him.
“You do not believe in the power of the Overlord?” the priest asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.
“Medalonians believe in no gods,” Tarja reminded him. “Not your god, nor the dead Harshini gods, nor anyone else’s. Loyalty to the state first is our creed, as well you know. I ask merely out of scientific curiosity.”
“Yes, yes,” Lord Pieter snapped. “Enough theology for now. You can convert him along the way, Elfron. We must keep moving. Tell me, Captain, how far is it to the nearest village?”
“If we make good time we can be in Lilyvale by this evening, my Lord.”
“Does this village have a decent inn? I am heartily sick of roughing it out here in the wilderness.”
“It’s small but adequate,” Tarja assured him. With the prospect of sleeping in a bed tonight, Pieter would lose all interest in stopping at the keep. “I suggest we get moving, if we are to reach it by nightfall.”
“Yes, yes,” Pieter agreed. “By all means. Will you ride with me, Captain?” Pieter glanced meaningfully at the priest for a moment. “I find myself in need of some secular conversation.”
“I would be honored, my Lord.”
Elfron wheeled his mount around so hard that Tarja winced in sympathy for the poor beast’s mouth. He turned his own mount and fell in beside Pieter as the caravan moved off, leading them on a wide route to avoid Treason Keep. Davydd and the Defenders waited until the wagons had passed and then joined the caravan at the end of the line.
Once Elfron was out of earshot, Pieter leaned across to Tarja. “I would give my life for the Overlord, but I wonder at his choice in ministers, sometimes. I am sure Elfron has been set on me as some sort of test.”
“He seems very dedicated,” Tarja agreed, forcing himself not to smile. It was a relief that not all Kariens were as dedicated to the Overlord as Elfron. On the other hand, Pieter was Jasnoff’s Envoy. He was just as dedicated to the pursuit of power and territory as Elfron was to his god. It made the knight more dangerous than he appeared. At least the priest made no secret of his ambitions.
“Dedicated!” Pieter scoffed. “He’s a raving fanatic! It must come from such an unnatural upbringing. They all come from the same island, you know. The Isle of Slarn in the Gulf. It’s a godforsaken lump of rock, and I’m sure it does something to their minds. If I hear one more word about sin on this journey, I shall go mad.”
“I have no experience with the concept of sin, my Lord, so I promise not to raise the subject,” Tarja assured him.
Pieter looked at him thoughtfully. “No experience with sin, eh? In that case,” he added, lowering his voice, although none of the party following them would be likely to overhear their conversation. “When we get to this inn, do you think you could arrange some... company, for me?”
“Company?” Tarja asked innocently.
“Don’t be obtuse man. You know what I mean!”
Tarja glanced over his shoulder. “Isn’t the company you have with you sufficiently entertaining?”
“They are nuns, Captain,” the Envoy complained. “Dry old virgins, every one of them. Sworn to the Overlord. I’d get more satisfaction out of a knothole in a tree stump! I need something young and plump and alive!”
“Lilyvale is a small village, my Lord,” Tarja warned. “There may not be any professional company available.”
“Find me an innkeeper’s daughter then, man! Somebody like that young Probate at the Citadel who was so willing on my last visit. She was most enthusiastic.”
Tarja remembered Pieter cornering one of the Probates at Joyhinia’s reception, but he hadn’t realized the man had actually bedded the girl. The thought made him cringe. The man was old enough to be her grandfather.
“I’ll see what I can do, my Lord,” Tarja promised, a little uneasily. He was a captain of the Defenders, not a panderer. He had no wish to find himself procuring women for this man all the way to the Citadel.
“I know you’ll do your best, Captain,” the Envoy said confidently. “I trust your presence here means that your mother intends to keep her promise.”
Tarja glanced at the Envoy, hoping his ignorance didn’t show.
“Perhaps Joyhinia has not shared our agreement with you?”
The honor of the Defenders prevented Tarja from lying outright, but there was the truth – and there was the truth.
“I hold a special place in my mother’s heart, my Lord,” he assured the Envoy with complete honesty. No need to mention that Joyhinia did not actually have a heart. “I would not be here, otherwise.”
“Of course,” Pieter agreed. “I meant no offense. I’m just a little surprised she so willingly gave me what I asked for. Or that you appear unperturbed by the arrangement. But then, you Medalonians do look at the world differently from the rest of us.”
“I mean,” the Envoy continued, oblivious to Tarja’s frustration, “when the Sisters themselves pop out bastards by the score, one can hardly expect the same sort of familial attachment as we in Karien hold dear. I can recount to you my family’s history for the past thirty-five generations. Most of you Medalonians don’t even know who your fathers are. You’re a bastard, I believe?”
“Legitimacy is determined by one’s mother in Medalon,” Tarja pointed out. “Her marital status is irrelevant.”
“A convenient policy. It accounts for your complacency. Although, there is such a difference in your ages, one could hardly expect you to feel much attachment to the girl.”
Tarja’s stomach lurched as he thought he understood what Pieter had meant about his complacency, his lack of family ties. He gripped his reins until his knuckles were white, to stop himself from reaching for the Envoy and pulling him to the ground in a metallic clatter to beat the truth out of him.
“You speak of my sister?” Tarja inquired as calmly as possible.
“Delightful girl,” Pieter agreed with an enthusiastic nod. “Met her the last time I was at the Citadel. Not my type, of course, much too skinny for my taste, but who am I to question the Overlord? Still, I think your mother should be quite satisfied with her bargain.”
“I’m sure she will be,” Tarja agreed with an equanimity he did not feel. “Provided you keep your end of the deal.”
Pieter was offended by the mere suggestion. “Captain, I can assure you, I will do as I promised. I will stand before the Quorum and denounce Mahina’s handling of the heathens. King Jasnoff takes the whole issue of the treaty most seriously, and Mahina’s inability to suppress the heathens is of great concern to him. If the Sisterhood does not gain some measure of control over the situation, we will be forced to take the matter into our own hands. Fortunately, your mother seems aware of this, which is why we are prepared to support her as First Sister.”
“If you are so firmly behind my mother, I wonder that you need R’shiel to sweeten the deal,” he remarked, holding back his rage by sheer force of will. His horse sidestepped nervously, as if he could feel his rider’s fury. Why? Why does he want R’shiel? As a hostage to ensure Joyhinia’s cooperation?
