Children of Chaos

Fabia breathed a very long sigh of contentment. 'Thank you!'

'Be very careful with this wisdom. Saltaja does not know yet. She is without news. Several boats bearing dispatches to her have passed you on the river. For that we must thank the disaster in Skjar, because the satrap could not leave with his city half ruined, and without him she cannot command the Witnesses.'

'How can you possibly know—'

'I must go,' the seer said. 'She is coming back. You will find Satrap Horold's wife a fine lady who understands what forced marriage to a Werist means. Keep cultivating Flankleader Cnurg. I also have news for Horth Wigson. Tell him that he may find old friends in Kosord at the Jade Bowl. But again—be careful!'

'Wait! What happens when we find my beloved is flown? And tell me about my brothers.'

'What has Saltaja told you of them?'

'Nothing that seems helpful. The youngest is a Werist in Tryfors, the middle one an artist in Kosord, and the oldest dead.'

'Close. Orlando is still a cadet, but near the end of his training. He is said to be formidable, so he could aid your cause considerably if he chose; but he is unfailingly loyal and thus much more likely to betray you to his lord. Benard is a Hand. You have met some of those?'

'Many. Practical as a wax ax?'

The seer chuckled. 'But a beautiful wax ax! Twelve blessings—'

'Wait! Who killed Paola Apicella—Perag Hrothgatson?'

There was a pause. 'Where did you learn that?'

In a nightmare. Soon after Yormoth, Fabia had started praying for enlightenment about the murder. At first her petition had been refused, but she had persisted, and a few nights later had been shown the start of the attack— her mother walking home with her swordsman escort, shapes leaping from the shadows. Fabia's own screams had awakened her before she saw any more, and had roused the entire camp as well. Ever since then, the young Werists had been generous with advice about what would help her sleep better and offers to provide it. But in those few ghastly moments she had heard Perag Hrothgatson's voice directing the assault.

'Horth suspects,' she said, knowing the seer would detect the equivocation. 'So it is true?'

'Perag was in charge. Now I must—'

'No, wait! I know your voice. It was you who accosted me in the Pantheon.'

'Well done,' the seer said, without sounding pleased.

'But not the Witness who testified to Saltaja that I had made my vows.'

'Did she speak untruth?'

Fabia cursed herself for stupidity, trying to match wits with a seer. Should she answer yes or no?

'I was in Skjar that day,' the voice went on, 'and I saw you take your vows, Fabia Celebre. It is true that the disastrous storm was overloading us, but the eyes of Mayn do not see as your eyes do. We see truth and my sisters and I saw you take your vows. What you said, where, and with whose help were not revealed to us. You may have been in the house of the Bright Ones or below it in the realm of the Mother. Few of my sisters would agree with me, I admit, but I personally do not care if you gave a lily to Veslih or spilled blood to the Old One, just as long as you oppose the vile Saltaja. If you are now a Chosen and she discovers this, she may destroy you or try to enlist you. I do not pretend to read anyone's thoughts, let alone hers. May whatever gods you serve guide you through perils to come, Fabia Celebre.'

'Wait! What happens when I reach Kosord?'

There was no reply.

¦

At first light Fabia dressed hastily, hoping for a private word with Horth, but Flankleader Cnurg was asleep across her tent door as usual, and came instantly alert, like a watchdog. She nodded sourly and walked around him. The levee swarmed with Werists in various stages of nudity as they turned their palls from bedclothes into day wear.

Horth was already kneeling in the crowd around the fire, participating in the group's usual hasty breakfast. Strangely, the endless boredom of the river seemed to agree with him; he had gained an appetite and lost his painful leanness. He was being idle for the first time in his life.

The party numbered fifty-three. Fabia and Horth had brought no servants and Saltaja only a single handmaid, the moronic Guitha, but the Queen of Shadows had not skimped on guards—Huntleader Hrothgatson led a pack of young Werists on their way to join Stralg's horde in Florengia. They were more jailors than protectors, of course. Cnurg, flankleader of the center, was Fabia's shadow, and Ern, his counterpart of the rear, kept equally close watch on Horth. The rest were never far away.

They traveled in a convoy of five boats: Blue Ibis, Mora, Redwing, Beloved of Hrada, and Nurtgata. The sixty or so men, women, and children who crewed these vessels lived in complicated, ever-changing relationships never explained to passengers. New faces might appear overnight and others vanish. People changed vessels from day to day, just for variety in company, and Fabia was certain they exchanged sleeping partners as readily—argument and bad feeling would build toward explosion and then suddenly vanish, leaving new smiling pairings and new scowls of jealousy.

With so many people striking camp, attending to toilet, and snacking on leftovers from the evening meal, the dawn departure was predictable confusion. She found herself a safe haven between a smoldering fire and a heap of bales and there, where she would not likely be stepped on, hunkered down to chew a crust and shiver herself properly awake. She laid her free hand on the cold earth of the levee and registered the power of the Old One.

Perag was strutting around, being objectionable. The huntleader was a foulmouthed bully, detested even by his own men. No doubt Fabia's nightmare of him murdering Paola had been sent by the Dark One, but the Mother of Lies had not lied in that instance, because a Witness had now confirmed his guilt It was time to bring the murderer to justice, lest he vanish out of Fabia's reach when they reached Kosord. Ever since Yormoth she had been