Oathbreaker

'Raschar's pretty free with his money,' Tarma observed.

'Freer than you think; he supports most of the hangers-on here. He's also indulging in some expensive habits. Tran dust, it's said. Certainly some very expensive liquors, dainties, and ladies.'

'Nice lad. Where's the money coming from?'

Jadrek sighed. 'That's the main reason why I -- and my father before me -- are not in favor. King Destillion began taxing the peasantry and the merchant class far too heavily to my mind about twenty years ago; Raschar is continuing the tradition. About half of our peasants have been turned into serfs; more follow every year. Opposing that was a point Stefansen agreed with me on -- and one of the reasons why Destillion intended to cut him out of the succession.'

'But didn't?' Kethry asked.

Jadrek shook his head. 'Not for lack of trying, but the priests kept him from doing so.'

'Idra,' Tarma reminded them.

'She saw what Raschar was doing, and began to think that despite Stefansen's habit of hopping into bed with anything that wiggled its hips at him, he might well have been a better choice after all. He certainly had more understanding of the peasantry and how the kingdom's strength depends on them.' Jadrek almost managed a smile. 'Granted, he spent a great deal of time with them, and pretty much with rowdies, but I'm not certain now that his experience with the rougher classes was a bad thing. Well, Idra wanted an excuse to go after him -- I unearthed the old story of the Sword that Sings. Raschar has one chink in his armor; he's desperate to prove he's the rightful monarch. Idra took Raschar the old Archive books and got permission to look for the Sword. Then -- she vanished.'

The fire crackled while they absorbed this. 'But she'd intended to go after Stefansen?' Kethry asked, finally.

Jadrek nodded. 'It might well be that she decided to just go, before Raschar could change his mind -- '

Tarma finished the sentence. 'But you aren't entirely certain that something didn't happen to her. Or that something didn't happen right after she set out.'

He nodded unhappily, twisting his hands together in his lap. 'She would have said goodbye. We've been good friends for a long time. We used to exchange letters as often as her commissions permitted. I... saw the world through her eyes....'

There was a flash of longing in his face, there for only a instant, then shuttered down. But it made Tarma wonder what it must be like, to have dreams of adventuring -- and be confined to the body of a half-lame scholar.

She stood up, suddenly uncomfortable with the insight. The tiny room felt far, far too confining. 'Jadrek, we'll talk with you more, later. Right now you've given us plenty to think on.'

'You'll try and find out what's happened to her?' He started to stand, but Kethry gently pushed him back down into his chair as Tarma turned abruptly, not wanting to see any more of this man's pain. She turned the latch silently, cracked the door open and checked for watchers in the corridor beyond.

'Looks clear -- ' Kethry and Warrl slipped out ahead of her, and Tarma glanced back over her shoulder soberly. The Archivist was watching them from his chair, and there was a peculiar, painful mixture of hope and fear on his face. 'Jadrek, that was why we came here in the first place. And be warned -- if anything has happened to Idra, there might not be a town here once the Hawks find out about it.'

And with that she followed her partner back into the corridor.

Seven

Jadrek tried to return to his book, but it was fairly obvious that he was going to be unable to concentrate on the page in front of him. He finally gave up and sat staring at the flickering shadows on the farther wall. His left shoulder ached abominably; it had been wrenched when the door had been jerked out of his hands. This would be a night for a double-dose of medicine, or he'd never get to sleep.

Sleep would not have come easily, anyway -- not after this evening's conversation. Tindel had been after him for the past several days to talk to the women, but Jadrek had been reluctant and suspicious; now Tindel would probably refrain from saying 'I told you so' only by a strong exercise of will.

What did decide me, anyway? he wondered, trying to find a comfortable position as he rubbed his aching shoulder, the dull throb interfering with his train of thought. Was it the presence of the kyree? No, I don't think so; I think I had made up my mind before they brought him in. I think it was the pretty one that made up my mind -- Kethry. She's honest in a way I don't think could be counterfeited. I can't read the Shin'a'in, but if you know what to look for, Kethry's an open book.

He sighed. And let's not be fooling ourselves; it's the first time in years that a pretty woman