Children of Chaos

Her flat, emotionless voice never changed. 'Leorth was given very specific orders. The herds have been removed from the hillside known as the King's Grass, which you cannot avoid if you head for Nardalborg. The flank is to run you down and kill you there, where the satrap has a clear view from his tower.'

'No!' But Heth had warned him of his danger, and he trusted Heth even more than he trusted a Witness. 'What can I do?' he whispered. 'How can I convince my lord that I am true to him?'

'I offer no advice on that.' The Witness touched her spindle to the floor and pulled it up to wind the new thread around it 'I can call in people who wish to help you, but I must have your word that you will not betray them or reveal what is spoken in this room.'

'My word?' Orlad said bitterly. 'If my liege lord cannot trust my oaths after I have worked so hard and long to be able to serve him, why should you believe a casual promise?' He felt nauseated.

'Because I will know if you are lying.'

The hardest part of fighting was thinking clearly. So he had been told often enough. So life had taught him. But to stay calm in the face of cold-blooded treachery was something else. Everything he had worked for—shattered! Seer or not, he could not believe that. He tried to consider his options and could think of none. Needing time to think, he said, 'I promise.'

The seer said, 'Fetch them.'

Musky sauntered over to the other door and went out, leaving it open. The Witness set the spindle turning again. Orlad leaned back miserably against the door he had come in by. Tonight was not working out as he had hoped.

In walked the girl who claimed to be his sister. She was supposed to be locked up, so there was a conspiracy afoot, and the seer was not loyal to the satrap, as she was supposed to be. But that was absurd! The Witnesses were always loyal to Stralg and his hostleaders, and now they said Therek had ordered the ambush. Orlad was the best—Heth had said so! Why would Therek want to kill his best new Hero?

Maybe he didn't want to! Maybe this was just another test, a test to find out if a Florengian really could be trusted. After all, Therek could change his orders before morning! Orlad was required to prove his loyalty by betraying his supposed sister. The only oath binding on a Werist was the oath he had sworn to Weru, and the light of Weru in his case had been Satrap Therek. It was a loyalty test.

Having worked that out, he felt much better.

The girl came to him. 'Oh, Orlad! I am sorry!'

He folded his arms. 'For what?'

'Sorry for you, of course.' She shook her head, frowned. 'I know how terrible you must feel. I want to help you.'

'Do you really? Well, seer? Who is lying now?'

'No one. She is sorry for you and frightened by your anger.'

'She is really my sister?'

'She is. I did not lie to you about the ambush.'

Then they were mocking him. They must be mocking him. Who would not laugh at a warrior betrayed by his lord?

A man had followed her in and closed the door. He was about Orlad's height, clean-shaven, with black hair hanging below his shoulders—enviable shoulders and a thick chest to match. He, too, approached, but the girl held out a hand to stop him.

'He doesn't like emotional greetings. Orlad, meet our brother, Benard.'

'You're an artist? You look more like a woodcutter to me.'

The newcomer blinked a few times. He smiled, starry-eyed. 'You have grown, too, Little One.'

'Amazing.'

'It is wonderful to see you again. I wish we could have met in happier circumstances.'

'Sit, all of you.' The Witness remained standing, twirling. The newcomers obediently sat on the edge of the platform. Orlad stayed where he was.

'You still have doubts,' the seer said. 'Will you confirm for the others that you promise not to repeat what is said here, Flankleader?'

'I promise. But stop prying in my mind!'

'I cannot read thoughts. I can smell mood and emotion. You are naturally very troubled and unsettled. However... quickly, because time is short. This is the story as it is told. I can testify personally to a few parts of it, but to save time I will not specify which. It is known: When Celebre fell, the doge yielded his four children as hostages—'

'Don't be too quick to condemn him, Orlad,' the girl said. 'He saved his people from massacre. He saw this as his duty and paid a terrible price for it. That is not cowardice. That is high courage.'

'Depends who's judging.' Weru accepted no excuse for failure. All that ever mattered was winning.

'You boys were brought here, to Vigaelia,' the Witness continued. 'You were left with Therek, Benard went to Horold in Kosord, and Dantio to Saltaja herself, in Skjar. Fabia followed later, in the care of a wet nurse, Paola Apicella. They were sent to Satrap Karvak, in Jat-Nogul. The next year, rebels sacked the city and the nurse escaped in the confusion, taking the child. She made her way to Skjar and married a wealthy merchant. Fabia grew up knowing nothing of her past. Apicella was later murdered on Saltaja's orders.'

'How old was ... were the boys?' Orlad asked. Some of this might be true.

'Eleven, eight, and you were three. I assume you remember little or nothing of those days. Benard was