It was the King's Own, Talamir, not in one of his more elaborate uniforms, but in a set of Whites like everyone else's. No wonder Alberich hadn't noticed him until he spoke. Talamir here, and waiting to hear what I know... it may be rumor, but they are taking the rumor seriously.
'Once, they had honor and purpose, and things they would not do. Now,' He shrugged. 'Nothing there is, they will not do, should the reward be high. Anything for loot. War they bring against the unarmed, as well as fighting true battles. I have heard—dreadful things.' He had to pause, shaking his head. 'With no wives, only women held by the strongest, no families, their ranks then grew but slowly, and difficult, it was, to replace those who fell. So now anyone they take into their ranks, who presents himself—thief, murderer, it matters not, has he a strong arm. And thus, cruelty upon cruelty piles.'
Dethor and Talamir exchanged a worried look.
But Alberich wasn't quite finished. 'The greatest change is this. No more seeking the home, they look only for a home. Should any offer a new land in reward, it is said—it is said that there is nothing they would not do.' He gnawed his lower lip, thinking about the cold-blooded killers that Aksel had described, and what they would willingly do for anyone who was so foolish as to offer them a new homeland. His blood ran cold at the very idea. 'But this, hearsay only is,' he amended. 'None I know has seen them, spoken to them, fought against them nor with them. Should any in Valdemar seek them to hire, warned they should be. It is said, moreover, that no sworn word do they truly hold by but their own, to their own, and they can and have turned against those who hired them.'
'Someone had better find a way to get that message across to your own people,' Dethor replied grimly. 'Because word has reached us that they're thinking about hiring the Tedrel Companies. And not just one of 'em. All of 'em.'
Now Alberich went icy cold all over with sudden dread, and was glad he was sitting down. Hiring one or two of the Tedrel Companies, he could just barely see. Aksel was not high enough in the ranks for his warnings to be heeded overmuch on that score. But all of them? There was only one reward that would tempt all of them together. 'Madness,' he said flatly. 'Surely not—' Surely not even the maddest and most fanatical of priests would hazard all to cast their lot with the Tedrels! That would be insane. As Aksel had described them, having the Tedrels in one's midst was like playing host to a large pack of wild dogs. So long as they were full-bellied and content, the worst that would happen was that there would be a little damage to small towns here and there, if the scum that now filled out the ranks of the Tedrels grew bored. Perhaps rape, a bit of looting, possibly a few houses burned.
The 'worst' that would happen if they are satisfied... rape. Looting. Oh, my poor people.... His stomach turned over. He thought about his border villages, and his throat and chest tightened, his gut roiling.
No worse, perhaps, than the bandits were already doing on the Borders.
But to face it from bandits, and then receive worse from those beasts— who in turn were hired by the Priests supposed to protect them!
That would be bad enough, But if the paychests were not as full as promised, or stopped altogether—the pack would turn....
And fire and the sword would reign, at least until the paychests came again.
His chest felt too tight; his heart ached at the mere thought.
If this were true, the only way to hire the whole nation was to promise a homeland. Would Karse offer Menmellith?
Possibly. Menmellith was no great prize, but would Karse then want the Tedrels as neighbors?
So it would be Valdemar. The priests hate Valdemar enough to allow anything so long as Valdemar is left gutted, Kingless, and without the Heralds....
Karse as a new homeland probably would not tempt them; it was too hard a land. They wanted something like that dream that their land had become for them, a place fat and rich, soft and sweet. But they would take out their spleen on Karse if it promised them such a homeland and failed to deliver it into their hands.
'That's what we've heard,' Dethor said, shrugging. 'Anything more you can tell us?'
Alberich shook his head; what more could he say? Dread was a sickening lump in his belly. 'This rumor—I hope it false proves.'
'Our sources are good,' was all that Talamir would say. The third man, who was not in Whites and did not identify himself, only grunted. He looked about as friendly as Mirilin—which was to say, not at all. There was no doubt in Alberich's mind that the third man did not trust him.
And why should he, if even some (if not most) of the Heralds were ambivalent about Alberich?
