Children of Chaos

importance of fidelity.

For a season they had been lovers. With Benard she had found the happiness her marriages had lacked. Many in her household must have guessed, but there had been no open scandal and holy Veslih had not burned Kosord to the ground in retribution.

Horold had found out, of course. All he needed to do was ask his resident seer what his wife had been up to— those busybodies. The brutish-looking man who had left in spring to go campaigning had returned in fall as a thing that walked on its hind legs. Their ensuing battle had been as memorable as any he could ever have fought, with him calling her a whore and her demanding to know what sort of shoats he expected her to farrow. In the end they had stopped fighting without ever making peace. He had known that any harm to her would cause the people to rise in a rebellion that he could suppress only by crippling the city for years to come.

Fortunately Benard had been the one man in the satrapy beyond his reach, a state hostage whose death would rouse the fury of his brother Stralg or, worse, their sister. Horold was terrified of Saltaja. So the unspoken terms had been that there would be no open break, that Benard would not die, and that Ingeld would sleep alone in the future. Horold had not set paw in her bedroom since. Ironically, she knew that she was married to the best of the four sons of Hrag, that none of the others would have been so forgiving.

It had been a very long time since a man lay where Bena lay now.

'Benard Celebre!' she snapped. 'You are a fool!' She whirled away, marching across the room in sudden rage. When she turned, he was upright already, feet on the floor, swaying as he peered at her with sleep-sodden eyes.

'Uh? You told me to come here.'

'That was before I knew that Horold was going to send you!' She swirled over to the arches, around by the bathtub, back to the door again, robes dancing.

He sat down heavily and mumbled at his toes, 'You are not making a huge quantity of sense, my lady.'

'Fool! Can't you see the danger?' she shouted, still pacing wildly. 'He insulted Cutrath and forbade him to hurt you. He heaped gold on you so the court cheered in wonder. He even sent you to me. Simpleton! Half-wit! Jar-head! You must go. Now!'

Then she saw how he was looking at her and cursed again. He knew the signs—she was overwrought and flushed from the fire. Pyromancy always left her aroused and vulnerable; her mother had confessed the same. Horold had known, back when he was still human, that a visit right after an augury would not go unrewarded. A long time ago, that! But she was not too old to feel the need, and Benard could read her as easily as he could shape clay. He rose to his feet again and tried to intercept her. 'Ingeld—'

'Don't touch me! Can't you see it's a trap, fool? You're a dead man, Benard Celebre, a dead fool. Hurry. Leave before it's too late.'

'No, I don't see.' His vision was always selective.

'I mean he's shown you favor so he won't be the second most obvious suspect when bits of you turn up in the midden. But that's what he intends to do—disassemble you, claw you to bare bones. Benard, Benard! How could you possibly do anything so unspeakably stupid as to challenge Cutrath and then win? In front of his friends?'

'It was win or have all my guts kicked out.' He smirked, pleased with himself. Great, lumbering bear!

'Silence! And why were you such a pea-brain as to come to court and brag about it? Why did you let that stupid Witness hag vomit it all out for everyone to hear? Why did she know what had happened? Answer me!'

Eyes of oiled ebony gleamed. 'Make up your mind. I thought I was supposed to remain silent. Stand still, woman, you're making me giddy. Oh, gods, I want to kiss you!'

She flinched back. 'No! He'll ask that Witness trollop what you did in here. They're bitches! Horold can ask anything about anyone and they'll tell him. She witnessed? There was no hedging or double-talk?'

He frowned. 'No. I mean yes. She witnessed.'

'How?' Ingeld howled. 'Why are you so important that she sees what you do?' The Maynist's interest was inexplicable, but it confirmed the pyromancy. This seemingly insignificant artist was not insignificant at all.

'I expect it was Cutrath she was—'

'No! No! Last sixday he disappeared on a drunken binge. Horold asked where he was and the seers knew only that he was out of range, not in the palace. Last night they must have been seeing you!'

'Perhaps she could hear my thoughts this morning.'

'Mayn's blessings do not include reading thoughts, only emotions. You must go now, Benard! Oh, look at you! Those fingernails! Are you eating properly? What's that all over your kilt?'

'Charcoal... blood? Twelve curses!' He was more upset by that tiny bloodstain than he had been by her prophecies of sudden death. 'It's not my kilt. I'll have to buy Thranth another.'

'I'll give you some copper...' She hurried over to her treasure chest.

He laughed. 'I don't need copper. Horold gave me gold.'

'Don't be absurd. You can't buy clothes with gold. Here, don't argue.' She found a pelf string heavily laden with twists of copper, some large, some small, and looped it over his head. 'Bury the gold somewhere safe and don't forget where. Now, please, will you go?'

He reached for her and she evaded him.

'Not yet.' He was broad and stark, as stubborn as a team of onagers. 'Ingeld, heart of my heart, Horold is not going to storm out of his assize to rush over here and decapitate me. You know him. If murder is his aim, then he'll take a long time to plan it and savor it beforehand. He loves a good hate.'

She drew breath to argue, but he was quite right. The dreamer could be perceptive when he bothered.