The War God's Own

through whom he can negotiate with all the clans-or threaten them all, if he has to-could help put an end to that sort of thing.

'Unfortunately, he's not the only Sothoii with an interest in what happens. His own court is divided badly enough, but the situation is even worse in the West Riding. They're the ones closest to your folk, and the ones with the longest memories of what you and they have done to one another over the centuries. Baron Tellian seems to be taking his cue from King Markhos, but we can't be certain of that. And whatever Tellian may do, some of his district lords and minor lords are looking to their own flanks. Our information's become more spotty since winter closed the roads, but a good many of the West Riding's younger knights seem to be at least listening to Mathian Redhelm, the Lord Warden of Glanharrow, and he's an anti-hradani hothead if ever there was one. All of which means that if we were to intervene openly in Navahk, for any reason, and tilt the balance suddenly in your father's favor-' The dwarf shrugged.

'You're thinking they might be seeing no option but to nip in quick and nasty, before Father's gotten his feet under him, as it were,' Bahzell said quietly.

'That's certainly one possibility. And another one is that someone like Mathian of Glanharrow might decide to act on his own and end up dragging the rest of the Kingdom with him, whatever Markhos and Tellian want. On the other hand, most of us-and I'm speaking now for Dwarvenhame in particular, not the Empire as a whole-feel your father's success would be in our interest, as well as his own. Ultimately, we think it would even be in the Sothoii's interest, although we don't expect all of them to see it that way immediately. You remember the first day we met, when I said your father sounded like a man who understood the business of ruling, not just looting?'

Bahzell nodded once more, and Kilthan flicked a hand in the air.

'Well, I still think that, and a man who understands ruling, and who can teach those who'll follow him to understand it, makes a far better neighbor than a snakepit of warring chieftains. Not only that, but anyone who knows anything at all about Bahnak knows he would never-ever-tolerate the worship of such as Sharna in his domain. And that being the case, we want to support him.'

'But not openly,' Bahzell said slowly.

'Not openly. Not at once,' Kilthan agreed. 'But I can make arrangements through my factor in Daranfel to slip some shipments over the border to Durghazh come spring.'

'Shipments of what?' Bahzell's voice was flat, and Kilthan waved at the seething activity beyond the control room window.

'Armor. Pikes. Halberds. Axes and swords and arbalests.'

'And in return?'

'In return, you and he will root out Sharna's activities in Navahk and wherever else you may find them in your lands. He'll pay us for the weapons when and as he can, and I assure you our price will be below the current market value of our wares. In addition, once he's defeated Churnazh, he will sign binding peace treaties with his neighbors-including the Sothoii. Some people might not place much faith in his word; I do, and so do my fellows on the Dwarvenhame Council. And in return for those treaties, Dwarvenhame will undertake, by equally formal treaty, to extend the same trade relationships to him as exist between us and other citizens of the Empire.'

Bahzell inhaled sharply. That was a better offer than even the Border Kingdoms enjoyed. It amounted to the ability to trade with Axeman merchants without import or export duties of any sort. Prince Bahnak would not only have access to all the wonders Bahzell had seen since leaving home but also have that access at a considerably lower price than anyone else outside the Empire!

'That's a mighty tasty carrot, Kilthan,' he said finally. 'Speaking for myself alone, I've no choice but to call it a very tempting offer, but I've no authority to be speaking for anyone else.'

'We realize that. We also realize that at this particular moment, your duty as a champion of Tomanak takes precedence even over your duty to your father. We have no intention of putting you in the position of trying to pick and choose between those responsibilities, and we know you can't possibly answer for your father without even speaking to him. But we also know that if we can't trust a champion of Tomanak to deliver a message for us, there's no one we can trust, and that your father trusts you. If we approached him openly or through some other intermediary, he would almost have to be suspicious. We certainly would be in his place. And while we might eventually convince him of our sincerity, it would take time we're very much afraid we may not have. So I was asked to explain this to you, because you know and, I hope, trust me. All we ask of you is that you carry our offer to your father and answer any questions he may have as honestly and completely as possible.'

'Um.' Bahzell nodded slowly, staring out through the control room windows once more while his mind turned over what Kilthan had just said. It had come at him completely without warning, but that didn't keep it from making sense, and his thoughts flipped back over his own earlier reflections on the monumental power shift looming in his homeland. He could readily believe the fears and suspicions Kilthan had described existed-especially on the part of the Sothoii-however daft he might think them to be. And he could see the logic behind Kilthan's offer. If he wanted to be crudely honest about it, he might as well call it Kilthan's bribe, he supposed, but it could equally well be called an astute act of statesmanship. What Kilthan offered, after all, would cost him, Dwarvenhame, and the Empire as a whole very little. In fact, all of those entities would undoubtedly make money off the transactions in the long term, if not quite as much as some of them might have with the import and export duties in place. And if the arrangement could bind Bahnak and his successors' interests to the Empire…

'All right,' he said finally. 'I'll take your message, Kilthan. Mind, I can't be promising Father will accept your offer, but I'll take it to him. And-' he looked back down at the dwarf '-for myself, I'll say I hope as how he accepts it.'

'Thank you,' Kilthan said solemnly, and held out his hand.

Chapter Eighteen

'Gaack! That smells horrible!'

Vaijon jerked his head back from the steaming cup in Bahzell's hand, and the Horse Stealer laughed. His breath went up in a dense plume, the lower part shadowed by the dense firs sheltering their campsite while the upper part was struck to pale gold by the rising sun.

'Aye, I can't be disagreeing there, lad. But I heard you groaning when you rolled out this morning.'

'Well, you'd groan, too, if you'd never been on those Phrobus-dam-' Vaijon began spiritedly after regarding the cup with obvious distaste for several seconds, then cut himself off. 'Your muscles would ache, too, if you'd never been on skis before,' he finished with a sort of plaintive dignity.

'No doubt,' Bahzell agreed, nobly forbearing to mention that he had not, in fact, been on skis in over three years. For that matter, it had probably been longer than that for Brandark, for there was no place to practice cross-country skiing inside Navahk, and Brandark was a city boy. Somewhat to Bahzell's initial surprise, however, Kaeritha was as graceful on skis as she was on horseback. On further consideration, he'd wondered why he was surprised. He knew little about her birth land, but the Duchy of Moretz lay almost as far north as Hurgrum. A peasant girl growing up there might very well have learned to ski. And if she hadn't learned then, she'd obviously spent a fair amount of time in the northeastern provinces of the Empire, judging from her familiarity with them, and skis were commonly employed by people in that area.

'If you'd like,' Kaeritha suggested now, 'you could ride in the sled, Vaijon.' The youngster turned his head, prepared to shoot her a glare, but she only smiled sympathetically. 'Getting back into condition is hard enough on people who already have the skills. For a beginner, using an entirely new set of muscles, it's even harder.'

'I know, Milady. It's just-' Again Vaijon broke off and looked back at the cup. He sniffed gingerly and grimaced as his nose confirmed that it still smelled just as bad. 'It won't kill me, will it?' he demanded suspiciously.

'That it won't,' Bahzell assured him.

'I'm not sure I'd mind if it did,' the knight-probationer admitted, then grinned crookedly. 'Oh, hand it to me, Milord! I'm just trying to put off the inevitable.'

He took the cup with one hand, pinched his nose ostentatiously with the other, and poured the evil-smelling