Oathbreaker

'So what's to stop the King from having the Archives altered at his pleasure?'

'They can't,' Kethry replied, still amused in spite of her feelings that they were both treading an invisible knife edge of danger. 'The Archive books are bespelled. They have to be kept up to date, or, and I quote, 'something nasty happens.' The Archives, once written in, are protected magically and can't be altered, and Raschar doesn't have a mage knowledgeable enough to break the spell. Once something is in the Archives, it's there forever.'

Tarma choked on a laugh, and stuffed the back of her hand into her mouth to keep it from being overheard in the corridor outside. They had infrequent eavesdroppers out there. 'Who was responsible for this little pickle?'

'One of the first Kings -- predictably called 'the Honest' -- he was also an Adept of the Leverand school, so he could easily enforce his honesty. I gather he wasn't terribly popular; I also gather that he didn't much care.'

Tarma made a wry face. 'Hair shirts and dry bread?'

'And weekly fasts --with the whole of his Court included. But this isn't getting us anywhere -- '

Tarma nodded, and buried one hand in her short hair, leaning her head on it. 'Too true. Ideas?'

Kethry sighed, and shook her head. 'Not a one. You?'

To her mild surprise, Tarma nodded thought -- fully, biting her lip. 'Maybe. Just maybe. But try the indirect approach first. My way is either going to earn us our information or scare the bird into cover so deep we'll never get him to fly.'

'Him?'

Again Tarma nodded. 'Uh-huh. Jadrek.'

* * *

Three days later, with not much more information than they'd gotten in the first two days, Tarma decided it was time to try her plan.

It involved a fair amount of risk; although they planned to be as careful as they could, they were undoubtedly going to be seen at some point or other, since skulking about would raise suspicions. Tarma only hoped that no one would guess that their goal was Jadrek's rooms.

She waited for a long while with her ear pressed up against the edge of the door, listening to the sounds of servants and guests out in the hall. The hour following the mandatory evening gathering was a busy one; the nightlife of the Court of Rethwellan continued sometimes until dawn, and the hour of dismissal was followed by what Kethry called 'the hour of scurrying' as nobles and notables found their own various entertainments.

Finally -- 'It's been quiet for a while now,' Tarma said, when the last of the footsteps had faded and the last giggling servant departed. 'I think this is a lull. Let's head out before we get another influx of dicers or something.'

As usual, Kethry sailed through the door first, with Tarma her sinister shadow. There was no one in the gilded hallway, Tarma was pleased to note. In fact, at least half the polished bronze lamps were out, indicating that there would be no major entertainments tonight in this end of the Palace.

I hope Warrrs ready to come out of hiding, Tarma thought to herself, a little worriedly. This whole notion of mine rests on him.

:Must you think of me as if I couldn't hear you?:

Warrl snapped in exasperation. :Qf course I'm ready. Just get the old savant's window open and I'll be in through it before you can blink.:

Sorry, Tarma replied sheepishly. I keep forgetting --damnit, Furface, I'm still not used to mind-talking with youl It's just not something Shin'a'in do.

Warrl did not answer at once. :l know,: he said finally. :And I shouldn't eavesdrop, but it's the mind-mate bond. I sometimes have to force myself not to listen to you. We've got so much in common; you're Kal'enedral and I'm neuter and we're both fighters. You know-there are times when I wonder if your Lady might not take me along with you in the end -- I think I'd like that.:

Tarma was astonished; so surprised that she stopped dead for a moment. You -- you would? Really?

:Not if you start acting like a fool about it: he snapped, jolting her back to sense. :Great Homed Moon -- will you keep your mind on your work?:

To traverse the guests' section they wore clothing that suggested they might be paying a social call; but once