'Joy and I have had our little conference and we have some plans, and you were right, there have been times when Gifts have been blocked, and—oh, do hold back your surprised look—by Karsites. But there are things we can do, and they have never managed to block Mindspeech on our side of the Border. Or battle line, whichever came first. Another point of interest, if you will, is that since Lavan Firestorm's time, apparently they have been unable to coax those night-stalking things you were talking about anywhere near the Border because they haven't appeared at all over here. Now, can I count on that continuing, do you think?'
Alberich chewed on his lower lip and considered what he knew. He had only heard the things in the distance, and had never asked any Sunpriest about them. But then, one didn't ask them. Interest in what they sent out might cause them to suspect guilt, or worse, heresy. But it did occur to him that although he had never heard them too near the Border, the reason for that was probably less than arcane. The Sunpriests would not risk themselves anywhere near the Border, and they probably had to be within a certain proximity to their charges to control them.
And if the Tedrels were providing a screen of bodies, they wouldn't hesitate to follow.
However, the situation at the moment suggested that the Sunpriests had a great deal more to concern themselves over than their ancient enemies.
'I think—I think perhaps that even if the Sunpriests could send their servants across the Border, at this point they wouldn't. I believe that they hold them back in reserve to make certain the Tedrels, after conquering Valdemar, do not turn on them as well.' He raised an eyebrow. 'Consider, if you will, the troops we know are flanking the Tedrels, the ones my spies said are not to cross the Border. No, I think the Night-demons will stay within Karse.'
'That is a distinct relief.' She made a note amid the rest on the desk at her side. Then closed her eyes for a moment. She looked tired, and he wondered how long she had been here, for he hadn't noticed her among the Heralds around the King.
'It is one small blessing,' he replied. 'Another is that our troops have limited choice of ground, given where we think they must come. And a greater blessing is that our troops will be fresh.'
'All they have to do is stop overnight, their troops will be just as fresh as ours,' she pointed out. 'They know we won't cross the Border. But frankly, all I know about battles and war is what I've read, and everything I've read just makes me want it all to go away.'
'Unless he is a madman,' Alberich said soberly, 'I believe you will find that even the great generals feel the same.'
She looked down at her hands. 'May I ask you a horrible favor?'
He was going to say, 'It depends on the favor,' but something about the way she had asked that question made him answer, unequivocally, 'Yes' instead.
She fixed him with that glittering gaze of eyes shielded behind thick, glass lenses. 'Shielded' was a good thought—she probably used those lenses as shields to hide what she was thinking.
'May I stop pretending that I'm brave and cheerful around you? I feel as if I can trust you, more even than the rest of the Heralds, I mean; you've seen me at my worst, I suppose, and you seem to know, somehow, why I have to be here.' She shrugged, helplessly. 'And I do. It's important that a Chronicler be here, and it can't be Elcarth, since he can't make himself detached enough—but it's also important that someone be here who knows history, because things that have been done in the past are likely to solve a problem now. I daren't pretend I'm anything other than insanely optimistic around anyone else; Joy is not entirely certain I should even be here—or at least she wasn't until this afternoon—and if they have any idea how terrified I am, they'll be certain I'll freeze up at the worst moment and try to send me back.'
He felt his expression softening, and for once, he let it. How odd to see her looking vulnerable! It wasn't that she ever attempted to look warrior-tough, but she wore this facade of cool indifference, even when he'd been training her—when she wasn't wearing an aura of annoyed irritation. He didn't think he had ever seen her look so helpless, much less on the verge of tears. He held up his hand to stop her. 'Of course you can,' he said, with sympathy that surprised even him. 'And although I did not expect to see you here, I understand what you can do that no one else can; the amount of information you must carry about in your mind is astonishing.'
'Not so much that, as I know where to look for things. I can ask Elcarth to find what I need, and he can Fetch handwritten notes down here.' She shook her head. 'I can't do that from up there in Haven. It depends on being in a meeting and seeing a problem and knowing where to look for an answer. And telling people that there is an answer, right then, before they get hysterical. You have to be there to know what priority to put on the problem; reports don't tell you that. But nobody wants me here; they look at me and see a half-blind, clumsy liability who's likely to be in the way, or worse, need rescuing. So I have to put up a facade so they don't find another reason to send me back.'
He hesitated. 'As the Weaponsmaster, I am concerned that you are the person least able to defend herself here.'
'Which is why I'm petrified,' she replied, in a very small voice. 'And I want to go home. But I can't, and I won't, and I won't ask anyone else to look out for me.'
'I never thought for a moment that you would.' The tent was so small, he could easily reach over and pat her shoulder, which he did, awkwardly. Her face crumpled, but she didn't cry. Just as well.
