They bade him good night, and once he was out of the room, Dethor shrugged. 'Well, there it is,' he said philosophically. 'It's up to him now.'
'And hope he can find a straight path through all our tangles,' Talamir added—wondering if he ought to begin praying to the Sunlord, just for a little help. And whether, if he did, the Sunlord would take it amiss and tangle things up even further.
«»
Alberich lay in his bed, hands tucked behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. There was no fire in his room, but a dim light from the lanterns and torches lighting the gardens came through the curtains at his window and created soft shadows, contrasting with the deeper pools of darkness among the beams. He was acutely conscious of little things, all of them so alien, so very different to the things he found ordinary.... The crisp herbal scent of the sheets, not Karsite sairel, but Valdemaran lavender. The shape of the room, long and narrow rather than square. The flavors lingering on his tongue. The cadence of conversation in the next room. All these things speaking eloquently of another place than the one he called home.
And his mind buzzed with activity, though his body was still. This was a pretty little quagmire that had been set at his feet....
Granted, he had been helping the Lord Marshal's men, but he'd done so knowing full well—and having warned them all, as well—that no one not born in Karse, or at least raised there from early childhood, could ever pass as Karsite. Now he was punished for that, for that had been sophistry, a way of appeasing both sides of his conscience without having to compromise either, and he had known it. Now he was caught, and there could be no evasion. Either he could aid Valdemar against Karse, or by withholding his aid, help Karse instead, knowing he was handicapping Valdemar.
Such a choice, and at the moment he could see no way of acting, or not acting, that would not cause harm. Violate his pledged word, or effectively cripple the abilities of those who had succored and adopted him to defend themselves. Betray his home, or those who had saved him.
:Talk to me, Chosen,: Kantor demanded. :You've closed yourself off to me. Trust me as I trust you, let me hear your thoughts.:
:You won't like them,: he replied mordantly.
:Perhaps not,: Kantor countered. :But at least you will be talking to me about it. Perhaps we can find answers if we both look for them.:
He took a moment to frame his thoughts. :If I do what Talamir asks of me, I go against my oaths. And it is of no use at all to claim that the spies will work only against the Tedrels when my people are working hand-in-glove with them. Act against the Tedrels, and Karsites will bleed.:
:Little doubt,: Kantor agreed, as he stared at the shadowy ceiling, listening to the indistinct murmur of voices in the next room. :But how are you being true to your oaths if you withhold help that could shorten this fight? You know that your Sunpriests will not hesitate to add Karsite troops to the Tedrels in order to defeat Valdemar, and the longer the wars go on, the more Karsites will die.:
:I have no control over what the priests do or do not do,: he said stubbornly. :And I do not know, not for certain, that they will order my people into this affray. What they do is in their own hands, and the will of Vkandis. I can only control my own actions, and I am the one who is responsible for what comes of them.:
He felt Kantor ruminating over that one; well, he'd spent enough time agonizing over the problem himself, and it was the only answer he could come to. No matter what other people did, if he was to remain true, he could only do what he felt was right.
:Pah,: Kantor said in disgust. :Why must the right answers be so unsatisfactory? But, Chosen, this might be right by your oaths, but must you remain bound by oaths to those who violated their responsibilities, not only to you, but to the people they lead?:
:If I break those vows,: he replied slowly, painfully, :1 become no better than they. Who will trust me, if I break my vows? How can I trust myself?:
Silence again, as Kantor considered this as well. This time, his reply was only a frustrated sigh.
:I have no argument for you that would not also be sophistry,: Kantor admitted, after the silence had gone on for what seemed to be a candlemark at least.
Strangely enough, that reply brought him a modicum of relief. Kantor was with him. Kantor was at least as uncomfortable with the situation as Alberich was, but the Companion was with him. Kantor, his best and truest friend in the world, was not going to use that friendship to try and persuade him of something against his conscience. Now all he had to do was argue with himself.
He sensed Kantor thinking furiously and waited to see what the Companion would come up with. :I don't suppose,: Kantor offered diffidently, :that you could get some sort of dispensation from the Priests of Vkandis absolving you of those oaths?:
