Children of Chaos

'What is the danger?' Besides dying of headache.

'Premature death. Very briefly: You and your three brothers, all older than you, were brought to Vigaelia as hostages. For the last fifteen years, your father has ruled his city as the bloodlord's puppet, thereby keeping war and grief away from it. Our sight cannot extend to another Face and my most recent information is about a season old. He was said to be very ill then. Celebre is becoming strategically important again, as it has not been for many years. One of his children will be returned to Florengia to take over after his death. The others will not be left alive as potential challengers. Now do you appreciate your danger?'

'Brothers? Where? Who?'

'We have no time for irrelevant detail. The Queen of Shadows is Stralg's regent on this Face. She will decide which one of you will live. At the moment she leans toward marrying you off to a man she can trust and sending you back with him to legitimize his rule, but she may change her mind.'

'She organized this dedication?'

'Certainly. She terrified your father by threatening to denounce you as a Chosen of Xaran.'

Frena hung to the rotted handrail and tried fiercely to focus on the seer through the flickering green lights. Pain was wringing out her brain like a wet cloth. 'Why are you telling me this? I thought Maynists were Stralg supporters and counselors. Why are you pretending to thwart his sister?'

'Never pretending!' The seer's voice displayed some welcome human emotion at last—anger. 'Fabia, Fabia! We serve the monster unwillingly, believe me, and only to fulfill an ancient compact, which most of us believe must now be discarded. Although only a minority in our cult think as our leader does, only her views count, and by accosting you I am sorely bending my vows of obedience. Do you feel well enough to proceed? Some officious priest will certainly start prying if you remain here very long.'

Frena forced herself to resume the climb, although her feet felt like boat anchors. People coming down were glancing curiously at the seer, not at her.

'I don't think I can believe all this.'

'Try, because your life is at stake. I am a Witness of Mayn! We speak only truth.'

'Yes, Witness. I am sorry. Does my father know of this?'

'Of course.'

'And as soon as I have made my vows, he will receive an offer for my hand?'

'An offer he will not dare refuse.'

'Who is the lucky bridegroom?'

'Saltaja's present choice is a son of her brother Horold, satrap of Kosord. The youth's name is Cutrath and he has just been, or is about to be, initiated as a Hero.'

A Werist? Ugh! Frena could not imagine a worse choice of husband. 'My father ... Horth ... has always promised that I will not be forced to marry against my will.'

'You will be now. No one who opposes Saltaja Hragsdor ever prospers.'

'Why are you bothering to tell me if I have no choice?'

'Suicide is always an option,' the seer said cheerfully. 'But rarely an attractive one. Partly because I serve the goddess of truth and you should know the truth. Partly to try and frustrate the Queen of Shadows, for she is evil. Partly—and I am not supposed to tell you this—because you are what we term a seasoner. It is a subtle concept, almost impossible to explain to an extrinsic. Seasoning is a potential for greatness, and very rare. High Priestess Bjaria is an important woman in this city but has no 'flavor' at all. Your foster father is completely insipid, despite his unbounded wealth. Stralg is a seasoner, and so is Saltaja.'

'Then why should I want it? What's it good for?'

'It is found in those who make history. It does not guarantee that they will do so, for many seasoners are buried by the wayside, their destiny unfulfilled. But when the gods wish to change the flavor of the world, they use a seasoner to do so. We rarely encounter seasoning before it is manifest, which is one reason we are interested in you, Fabia Celebre. Your time has not yet come.'

'You are being metaphorical, I trust? You view the world as the cook pot of the gods?'

'Why not? If your flavor is the taste the gods want, then yours will be the seasoning they apply. Or you may stay forever on the kitchen shelf. This is the closest a seer will ever go to foretelling the future.'

This was madness!

The seer sighed. 'You cannot believe. No matter. But consider the only family you know. Horth Wigson is basically a good man, for a Ucrist, and you will put him in extreme peril if you resist the inevitable.'

Right foot, left foot, right... Cold rivulets raced down Frena's ribs and the air was too thick to breathe.

'I understood—' Frena corrected herself. 'What he always told me was that he went over the Edge as a young man and met my ... met Paola in Florengia, married—'

'I have no evidence that he has left Skjar since the day he arrived. How well does he speak Florengian?'

'Just a few words. Paola taught me and...' Frena stopped as the import of her words registered. Why didn't Horth speak more Florengian than that?

'It is known that Paola Apicella was hired, or coerced, as a wet nurse at a place near Celebre, to bring the hostage baby, namely you, to this Face, where you were assigned to the custody of Satrap Karvak, another Hragson. He died when rebels sacked Jat-Nogul. Apicella escaped and brought you to Skjar, where she married a promising Ucrist. The Witnesses tracked you down, of course. Saltaja was content to leave you where you were, anonymous, until she had need of you.'