She probably is, the old schemer! She doesn 't need to read thoughts, she knows me like her favorite sonnet!
"I am—fascinated to meet you, Lashana," he said carefully. "Or should I call you 'Elvenbane?'"
"Please don't," the young woman said firmly. She was still tense and very ill-at-ease. "It's not a name I ever claimed for myself."
Both of them stood so awkwardly, so stiffly, that Moth began to chuckle. "Kyrtian, Lashana, for Ancestors' sake, sit down! You look like a pair of bad carvings, I do swear!"
Kyrtian relaxed marginally, and gestured to Lashana to take a seat on the cushioned bench nearest her. She did so, moving as if she was an old creature with frozen joints. He selected a slightly lower seat on a stool, to put his eyes a little lower than hers.
"I don't have much time," she said, finally. "And I'm not cer¬tain how to begin."
"I can tell you that," he offered, and tried a smile. "Begin with why you knew you could trust me not to kill you on sight."
As he had hoped, such a direct and blunt approach was pre¬cisely the right way to approach her, and she began telling him the most amazing story that he had ever heard in his life. He lis¬tened and had to work not to allow his mouth to fall open with shock more than once. To think that two of her people had got¬ten close enough to him to stand guard on his very tent so that they could spy on him! He would have to have a word with Gel about that, later.
At some point his capacity for sheer astonishment was ex¬hausted, and he could only listen to her in a sort of trance. It was all too impossible to believe, and yet he had to believe in it. The things she told him fit too well with what he already knew.
Then, after talking until she was hoarse, she paused, and ex¬changed a significant look with Lady Moth. "So," she said. "Now you tell me to take myself off. Or—"
"Or I ask you if your Wizards would dare accept the Elven-lord Commander as an ally," he finished, having already come to the conclusion that this, and only this, could be the reason why she had come to him. Brilliant—audacious—and com¬pletely logical. And on the other hand, completely illogical that she should ever trust a fullblood.
She stared at him, and suddenly every bit of tension ran out of her, just like water running out of a cracked jar. "Fire and Rain!" she exclaimed weakly. "You're just as Keman claimed you are!"
He wondered if she had read his thoughts, using the same hu¬man magic that some of his own people had—and Moth's.
"Only the surface," she replied instantly. "I don't pry; none
of us would. And if you want, I can teach you a method to keep even the surface thoughts private."
He looked deeply into her emerald eyes, so like and unlike a fullblood's, and saw only sincerity in them. He'd been around human mages too often to feel unnerved by her instant response to his thought. "I'd appreciate that," he replied. "But it can wait. So, now I assume you know about my own people?" A sudden, blinding idea occurred to him at that moment, the way that he could, finally, safeguard his own people and his mother no mat¬ter what happened to him, and he saw that she saw it in his thoughts by the surprise that flashed into her eyes.
"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Oh, indeed yes, Lord Kyrtian, we can, and we will, take your folk if they must be evacuated! Por¬tals—the transportation magic—whatever is needed; between your people and mine we can do whatever it takes to get them to safety. And you needn't fear for your mother and the other Elves of your house, either—we have Lorryn's half-sister with us and she is as welcome now among us as he is!"
Now it was his turn to feel relief that made him sag. "Blessed Ancestors," he murmured, passing a hand over his brow. "If you knew what it meant to me to hear that—" Then he smiled weakly. "What am I saying? Of course you know."
But relief from one problem didn't help much with the oth¬ers, and if this young woman did not have much time, they needed to make plans, urgently. "Bless you, Lashana. Now— let's decide between us what I can do for you and yours."
Gel was not happy with him.
"Next time—" Gel muttered under his breath. "The next time you go making hare-brained meetings without me, with women you've never seen and don't know anything about, I'll take you to the horse-trough and hold your head under till you come to your senses, I swear!"
Kyrtian sagged against the back of his chair, but was not go¬ing to back down this time. He didn't blame his old friend—but something had told him that Lashana and Gel shouldn't meet, yet. There wasn't enough time to negotiate all of Gel's suspi-
cions, not and come to an understanding before she had to leave. Ancestors! The danger she had put herself in by coming to him directly! And the danger had increased with every mo¬ment that passed; there was no telling who could have discov¬ered her there.
Gel's dinner sat uneaten in front of him; he had already stuffed his meal down his own throat as he'd explained the mir¬acle that had happened in that incongruously ordinary room this afternoon. "Gel, Morthena was there the entire time—and what could one little wizard-girl possibly do to me?" he asked, reasonably.
Gel only growled. "I suppose you know she could have been talking things she's got no authority to promise?"
"Morthena says she has the authority, and that's good enough for me." His mind was too full of plans now to be put off by Gel's irritation. His old friend was mostly just annoyed that, for the first time, he had made plans and forged a pact without Gel's supervision. "I know what I'm doing, Gel," he said, with perfect conviction.
Gel looked at him with one eyebrow raised, then slowly and grudgingly nodded. And his expression changed completely. He went from anger—to defeat.
"I guess you do," he said slowly. "I guess you don't need me anymore."
Now it was his turn to feel exasperated, and he tossed his fork down on his plate. "Oh for—don't be ridiculous. I'd as soon cut off my right hand! Now, look—we need to try and think of all possible contingencies here, and have some sort of skeleton in place if—"
There was a tap on the door, and Lady Moth poked her head into the library. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a wiz¬ard, or else you somehow conjured the baggage by saying her name," she said sourly. "I seem to be attracting all manner of visitors today."
This time, Kyrtian knew that the name that sprang into his mind was the right one. "Oh, no—" he said, grimacing. "Lady Triana. Just what we need."
25
Moth! Can you keep the b—Lady Triana occupied for a little?" Kyrtian asked, a little desperately. He ran both his hands through his hair frantically. "I can't see her just yet—"
"Oh, probably." Moth's annoyance was turning to amuse¬ment. "In fact, I'll take it as a challenge. Obviously you'd better talk to Gel; I'm sure he can advise you. Besides, you're in no state to entertain a lady—the least you can do is clean yourself up." Moth eyed him with disfavor. "Believe me, you'd better have your wits about you and present a marble facade to Lady Triana. I'll go and insist she tell me every tiny detail of every affair, quarrel, and inconsequential bit of maneuvering among the Great Households while you do so. I've been isolated for some time—and everyone knows what a terrible old busybody I am. If I can't engage her, Viridina can."
"You are not old," he protested, earning a smile. "Thank you."
Moth was right; he needed time to get his wits about him. While Lady Moth left the library to keep her visitor busy with a flood of gossip-—under the excuse that she needed to be caught up on all the news she had missed while surrounded by the Young Lords—Kyrtian had a lot of work to do. And first on his list was to warn the girl that Triana was here.
But when Kyrtian got up from the table, Gel finally broke off the conversation with his young woman. Renna? Reanna? Ren-nati, that was it. Both of them looked up as he approached.
"I've been telling Rennati that you had a visitor," Gel began, and Kyrtian felt a surge of panic, which eased as Gel went on, with a lift of an eyebrow, "It's a rather good thing that those poor misused slaves that the Young Lords commandeered have
realized that no blame is going to be attached to them and sent one of their number to talk to you."
Thank the Ancestors he didn't give her the real story yet! Kyrtian thought, relieved. "Yes, well, you can't blame them for wanting to send a sort of delegate to me to plead their case," he replied, mendaciously. "They can't have realized that Lady Moth would treat her human servants exactly the way we treat ours. But we've got another visitor, it seems. Lady Moth tells me that Lady Triana has come calling."
Rennati's face went dead white; that alone would have been a giveaway that she had been covertly serving Triana, even if Kyrtian hadn't already known the whole story. Triana had cho¬sen her tool very poorly, on the whole, if she so readily be¬trayed herself by her mere expressions.
But Triana never really thought of humans much, except as cat's-paws. She probably never once considered that he or Gel—or anyone that mattered!—would be around to see her re¬action if Triana's name was mentioned.
But Gel immediately put his weathered paw over her slim hand, and said gruffly, "Now, Rennati—she needn't even know you're here—"
"On the contrary," Kyrtian said firmly, "I want Triana to know she's here. In fact, I have something in mind—it might be a little humiliating for you," he continued, turning to the girl, "but if you can weather a bit of humiliation, I think we can turn her attention away from you completely and for all time, if you'll cooperate."
He explained what he wanted her to do, and although the girl flushed with embarrassment, and Gel growled over the plan, they both eventually agreed it was the only possible solution. "She'll probably corner you at some point this evening, if only to get her teleson-ring back," he cautioned. "I think we can manage to interrupt that confrontation before she can do any¬thing to you, but you know, if she does take back the ring, it will effectively sever all contact with you and show that she's got no more interest in you."
And if what Lashana told me is true, we can also expect to
have a device to completely neutralize the collar she placed on you in a day or so, he thought, but did not say aloud. That was a secret he wished to keep to himself until Lady Triana was long gone.
Rennati nodded, and licked her lips. "I think that would be best, my lord," she whispered, as Gel squeezed her hand com¬fortingly. "I'll go to my quarters and prepare."
"And I'd better go to mine," Kyrtian said, stifling a groan. He left the two of them alone; no doubt Gel, who had delivered en¬couraging speeches to fighters in the past, could find the words to put courage into this little dancer's heart.
He didn't have a great deal of clothing with him suitable for formal occasions but he had the run of Lady Moth's mansion, and asked her servants to rummage through the closets of her late husband's wardrobe and select something appropriate. He worked a little judicious use of magic to adjust the fit of the sober, black silk and silver outfit they brought him, and it made him presentable enough. He descended from the second-floor guest quarters to Lady Moth's drawing room looking (he hoped) like the successful, but no-nonsense, military com¬mander he was.
The ladies broke off their conversation as he entered the spa¬cious, pale-pink and gold chamber; Lady Viridina and Lady Moth flanked Lady Triana, perched on delicate chairs on either side of the sofa that Triana occupied.
If women's clothing served as a weapon—and given all that Kyrtian knew about Triana, there was no doubt in his mind that for her, it did—then Lady Triana had come armed to the teeth. Nothing about her costume was excessive, there was nothing about it that any other lady could take exception to—except that the flesh-colored silk of her gown, though it covered her lit¬erally from neck to knee, could not have revealed more of her unless she'd been stark naked. But the effect was oh! so subtle; the silk was heavy, not thin, and her charms were disclosed by imperceptible degrees as she moved. The color contributed to the effect, and knowing what he knew now about the lady, Kyrt¬ian couldn't help but admire her tactical expertise on her own battlefield.
That did not, however, mean he intended to fall victim to it.
He half-bowed to all three ladies, then took a step forward and made a more formal bow over Triana's hand. "Lady Triana, I have heard a great deal in praise of you," he said, keeping the irony out of his voice.
"Likewise, Lord Kyrtian," she replied. "Most especially from my friend, Lord Kyndreth. So much so that when I heard you were here with Lady Morthena, I thought I would trespass on her hospitality and come to see you myself."
Very nice. Drop Kyndreth's name so that I know I can't just dismiss you out of hand, then turn on your charm. She was cer¬tainly doing all of that, and the amazing part was that it was not at all blatant. If he'd been the naive fellow he was when he'd first taken on command of the army, he probably would have fallen directly for her. Kyrtian had always been inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt until he met them himself; if he'd done that with Triana he would have been certain that she could not be as bad as she'd been painted.
So, let me think, what should my reaction be? He really didn't want very much except to see the back of her; he doubted that there was very much he could learn from her, and frankly, there was far too much that she could learn from, or about him if she stayed very long. "I do hope that I am not a bitter disap¬pointment to you, but I fear that most people find me quite bor¬ing," he said bluntly. "And they generally tell me so to my face. I don't cultivate any interests outside of the battlefield, my lady, and at the moment, I can't afford to."
That took her aback for a moment; he watched her as she tried to think of something flattering to say that wouldn't sound like flattery. "Well, since I haven't heard you speak more than a few sentences, I'm not in any position to judge!" she replied, with a throaty laugh that probably stole the breath of many an impressionable lad.