The Curse of Chalion

HOWEVER DIM HIS VIEW OF THE MORALS OF COURT, he had to grant that Orico's musicians were very good, Cazaril reflected, opening his ear greedily to them at the next evening dance. If Royina Sara had a consolation to match Orico's menagerie, it was surely the Zangre's minstrels and singers. She never danced, she rarely smiled, but she never missed a fête where music was played, either sitting next to her sodden and sleepy spouse, or, if Orico staggered off to bed early, lingering behind a carved screen with her ladies on the gallery opposite the musicians. Cazaril thought he understood her hunger for this solace, as he leaned against the chamber wall in what was becoming his usual spot, tapping his foot and benignly watching his ladies twirl about on the polished wooden floor.

Musicians and dancers stopped for breath after a brisk roundel, and Cazaril joined the smattering of applause led by the royina from behind her screen. A completely unexpected voice spoke next to his ear.

"Well, Castillar. You're looking more your old self!"

"Palli!" Cazaril controlled his surge forward, turning it into a sweeping bow instead. Palli, formally dressed in the blue trousers and tunic and white tabard of the Daughter's military order, boots polished and sword glittering at his waist, laughed and returned an equally ceremonious bow, though he followed it up with a firm, if brief, grip of Cazaril's hands. "What brings you to Cardegoss?" Cazaril asked eagerly.

"Justice, by the goddess! And a good job of it, too, a year in the making. I rode up in support of the lord dedicat the provincar dy Yarrin, on a little holy quest of his. I'll tell you more, but, ah"—Palli glanced around the crowded chamber, where the dancers were forming up again—"maybe not here. You seem to have survived your trip to court—you're over that little burst of nerves now, I trust?"

Cazaril's lips twisted. "So far. I'll tell you more, but—not here." A glance around assured him neither Lord Dondo nor his elder brother were present at the moment, though some half dozen men he knew to be their creatures were just as certain to report this meeting and greeting. So be it. "Let us find a cooler spot, then."

They strolled out casually together into the next chamber, and Cazaril led Palli to a window embrasure that overlooked a moonlit courtyard. On the courtyard's far side, a couple sat closely together, but Cazaril judged them out of both earshot and caring.

"So what is old dy Yarrin about that brings him hot to court?" asked Cazaril curiously. The provincar of Yarrin was the highest-ranking lord of Chalion to have chosen allegiance to the holy military order of the Daughter. Most young men with military leanings dedicated themselves to the far more glamorous Order of the Son, with its glorious tradition of battle against the Roknari invaders. Even Cazaril had sworn himself a lay dedicat to the Son, in his youth—and unsworn himself, when... let it go. The far smaller holy military order of the Daughter concerned itself with more domestic challenges, guarding the temples, patrolling the roads to the pilgrimage shrines; by extension, controlling banditry, pursuing horse and cattle thieves, assisting in the capture of murderers. Granted, what the goddess's soldiers lacked in numbers they frequently made up in romantic dedication to her. Palli was a natural, Cazaril thought with a grin, and had surely found his calling at last.

"Spring cleaning." Palli smiled like one of Umegat's sand foxes for a moment. "A smelly little mess inside the temple walls is going to get washed out at last. Dy Yarrin had suspected for some time that, with the old general sick and dying for so long, the order's comptroller here in Cardegoss was filtering the order's funds as they flowed through his fingers." Palli wiggled his, in illustration. "Into his personal purse."

Cazaril grunted. "Unfortunate."

Palli cocked an eyebrow at him. "This doesn't take you by surprise?"

Cazaril shrugged. "Not in the main. Such things happen now and then, when men are tempted beyond their strength. I'd not heard anything specific said against the Daughter's comptroller though, no, beyond the usual slanders against every official in Cardegoss, be he honest or not, that every fool repeats."

Palli nodded. "Dy Yarrin's been over a year, quietly collecting the evidence and the witnesses. We took the comptroller—and his books—by surprise about two hours ago. He's locked down now in the Daughter's house's own cellar, under guard. Dy Yarrin will present the whole case to the order's council tomorrow morning. The comptroller will be stripped of his post and rank by tomorrow afternoon and delivered to the Chancellery of Cardegoss for punishment by tomorrow night. Ha!" His fist closed in anticipated triumph.

"Well done! Will you stay on, after that?"

"I hope to stay a week or two, for the hunting."

"Oh, excellent!" Time to talk, and a man of wit and certain honor to talk with—double luxury.