Wind Rider's Oath

tight grin. It wasn't raining. In fact, the sun shone bright, and clear blue patches showed through fitful breaks in the clouds. But the blustery wind was much stronger up here on the walls, where no obstacles blocked or abated its power, and both hradanis' warrior braids blew out behind them.

'No,' Brandark said. He gestured at the road, stretching off to the east. 'I meant Tellian's haring off this way.'

'It's not as if he'd any other choice, is it now?' Bahzell replied, and Brandark shrugged.

'The fact that something's the only choice someone has, doesn't make it a good idea when he does it,' he pointed out. 'Especially not when he has as many enemies as Tellian does. I don't like the thought of his dashing about out there with no more than a score of bodyguards, Bahzell.'

'First, it's only by the gods' grace that he's any bodyguards at all with him,' Bahzell snorted. 'Once Tarith turned up and he'd confirmation of all Leeana had done, he was all for heading out with naught but Hathan beside him. Now that, I'm thinking, is something as most anyone would think was after being a bad idea.'

'You know,' Brandark observed, 'you're developing quite a gift for understatement, Bahzell.'

Bahzell only snorted again, louder, but both of them knew he was right. Even Tellian had known that much, although both Hathan and Hanatha had found themselves forced to sit on him-almost literally-before he'd admitted it. That had been harder for Hanatha than for his wind brother, but frantic as she was over her daughter's safety, she was also the wife of one great noble and the daughter of another. Despite the unmatchable speed with which any wind rider's courser gifted him, the Lord Warden of the West Riding had no business at all putting himself at risk by gallivanting around the countryside unprotected. It was entirely possible that one of his enemies might be keeping an eye on his comings and goings with an eye towards a quiet little assassination, assuming he was foolish enough to offer an opening, and not even a courser could outrun an arrow. Besides, as Hathan had grimly pointed out, Leeana had stolen enough of a lead that it was unlikely even coursers could overtake her short of her destination, so there was no reason to dash out like reckless fools.

'Second,' Bahzell continued after a moment, 'that's his daughter out there, Brandark. He's a noble and a ruler, aye. But he's after being a father before he's any of those other things.' He shook his head. 'He'll not give over, no matter what.'

'But is that really what's best for Leeana?' Brandark asked more quietly. Bahzell looked at him again, sharply, and the Bloody Sword shrugged. 'I know he loves her, Bahzell. And I know he wants her safely home again. But Leeana's no fool. Whatever other people may think, you know-and so do her parents-that she didn't do this on a whim. If she thought it through as carefully as I'm sure she did, perhaps what she's doing is actually for the best.'

Bahzell grunted. He'd thought the same thing himself as he remembered the pain, and the fear-and not for herself alone, he realized now-in a pair of jade-green eyes. But he knew that even if Tellian had come to the exact same conclusion, it wouldn't have made any difference to his determination to protect the daughter he loved from the consequences of her own decision.

'It might be you've a point,' he said finally. 'I'll not deny I've wondered the same. But in Tellian's boots, I'd make the selfsame choice, and well I know it.' He shook his head again. 'It's a hard thing, Brandark. A hard thing.'

They fell silent again, gazing off into the wind, and wondering what was happening out there beyond the eastern horizon.

* * *

'Milord Champion!'

Bahzell looked up in surprise. The delicious odors of one of Tala's dinners-rich, hot curry, chicken, beef, and potatoes-drifted tantalizingly upward from the bowls and dishes on the table before him, and evening was busily giving way to night outside the window. He'd invited Gharnal and Hurthang to join him and Brandark for supper, but he hadn't expected any other visitors this night. And he certainly hadn't expected to see Sir Jahlahan Swordspinner turn up in his quarters in person.

'Aye, Sir Jahlahan?' he said mildly, setting down his knife and fork. 'And how might it be as I could be of service?'

He waved at a chair on the other side of the table, inviting the human to be seated, but Swordspinner remained standing.

'I apologize for interrupting your supper, Milord Champion. And yours, Milords.' He nodded with abrupt, almost spastic courtesy to Brandark and the two other Horse Stealers, and Bahzell's ears pricked as the jagged edges of the other man's voice registered. Sir Jahlahan was the seneschal of Hill Guard Castle. In Tellian's absence, he commanded the garrison not simply of Hill Guard, but of Balthar itself, and Tellian Bowmaster hadn't picked someone who was prone to panic for that post. Yet at this moment, that was what Sir Jahlahan appeared dangerously close to doing.

'There's no need to be apologizing, Sir Jahlahan,' Bahzell said after a moment, glancing at the other hradani. 'I've no doubt only pressing need could have caused you to.'

'You're not wrong there, Milord Champion,' Swordspinner agreed in that same, jagged voice. 'We've just received a messenger from Lord Warden Edinghas of Warm Springs,' he continued. 'That's one of the West Riding's smaller holdings, up on the northeast border. Up between the west fork of the Spear River and the shore of the North Ice Sister.'

He paused, and Bahzell nodded his understanding of the geography. That meant this Warm Springs was almost as far north as the southern edge of Hope's Bane Glacier, about as far as you could get from Balthar and remain in the West Riding. Yet even as he nodded, he had the odd feeling Swordspinner hadn't paused to be sure Bahzell was following him. It was more as if the seneschal needed to pause. As if whatever had brought him here was terrible enough that he needed time to steel himself for the actual explanation.

Sir Jahlahan drew a deep breath, then looked Bahzell in the eye.

'Milord Champion, Lord Edinghas' message is-Well, it's one I don't have the least idea how to answer. I doubt Milord Baron himself would know! But this much I am certain of: if any man can know what to do, it's a champion of Tomanak. Please, Milord. I need your help-badly.'

* * *

Bahzell's expression was as grim as his thoughts as he and Brandark followed Sir Jahlahan into the seneschal's office. He'd considered bringing Gharnal and Hurthang, as well, but decided against it. This meeting might be difficult enough without piling that many hradani into it. Besides, if what his instincts-and that indefinable link which always connected him, however lightly, to Tomanak-were telling him was true, someone had needed to go and alert the Order's sword brothers that they might be needed.

Soon.

Swordspinner's was the next door down the corridor from Tellian's own office, and it was only marginally smaller than the baron's. Despite that, and despite the fact that Sothoii were taller than most humans, Bahzell felt cramped and trapped, painfully aware of the ceiling close above his head.

He'd felt that way constantly when he first arrived at Hill Guard, but it was a sensation he'd gotten over with the help of familiarity. Now that comforting sense of the familiar had disappeared. The dreadful message Jahlahan had summarized for him on the walk to his office had stripped it away, and the weight of the castle's stonework seemed to press down upon him.

The human waiting in Swordspinner's office was short for a Sothoii, a good four inches shorter than Brandark, much less Bahzell. But he was a tough, weathered-looking man, with hard muscles and a face wind, sun, and winter had darkened to the hue of old leather. It was impossible for Bahzell to estimate his age accurately, but he was certain the human was at least several years older than he was himself.

And it was also quickly apparent that this was not one of Tellian's retainers who approved of hradani.

Lord Edinghas' messenger snapped to his feet, his exhausted face taut with outrage, as soon as he laid eyes