The Silence of Medair

Ileaha lost her air of cold self-dissection. "It becomes a trap, status," she sighed. "I was Cor-Ibis' ward, which strengthens my tenuous link to the family. It limits my choices, for a lesser position than the chosen one would reflect badly on the Keridahl and the former Keridahl’s guardianship. It could bring shame on this family which has clothed and fed me if I fell to a position of common servitude. A ward of Cor-Ibis in the scullery? That would not be well done."

"That’s your ambition? The scullery?"

A shadow of a smile appeared on Ileaha’s face. "A noble profession," she said. "No, if I were free of ties, I would pursue the path of Kel ar Haedrin and Kerin las Lorednor. My strength is with the sword, and they are trusted, and not expected to blindly follow orders."

Medair had gathered during the past week that the two Farakkian members of Cor-Ibis' entourage were rather more than simple arms-men. Spies. Agents of the Palladian Crown.

"But isn’t that a suitable profession? Hardly common servitude."

"It is the appearance of the thing. In the eyes of the world Kel ar Haedrin and Kerin las Lorednor are bodyguards. Kerin las Lorednor is thought to have come down greatly since he entered the Kier’s service, for such as they do not win public acclaim, or even acknowledged promotion. Nor, were their roles clear, would they be thought admirable."

Medair understood. The intelligence agents of her Emperor had been feared or despised, no matter their value. "I set my goals very young," she said, considering the woman beside her. "In some ways I didn’t have a choice. My sister was possessive of what would one day be hers and I knew I would have to make my own place. But I was fortunate to want, oh, something which let me preen and think well of myself and not have people think badly of me. My mother encouraged me to it. I don’t know how she would have reacted if I’d announced a desire to be a shadow-lurker."

"Velvet Swords, they call them," Ileaha murmured. "The best of them, at least. Kel ar Haedrin tells me much of her world is dull and there are times when it is necessary to debate honour. But I am sure that I would prefer it to the well-paid and unrewarding role of Keris las Theomain’s secretary."

They drifted on in silence and Medair was left to think about the stark contrast between Avahn, Ileaha and the first Ibisian she had known. Selai Attau las Dona, adept, Kerikath. Assigned to teach the Imperial Heralds the Ibisian tongue. An eternally formal woman, she had spent many months in their company and never let her reserve slip. Except for that first time, before their Kier had even declared war, when Kedy had asked their new teacher about the disaster which had destroyed Sar-Ibis. It had been so unnerving, listening to the Ibisian woman describe the destruction of her home without so much as a quaver. Medair had been almost relieved when the mask had cracked, if only for an instant.

They had just delivered the Emperor’s message and been sent away to wait. A simply amazing meal had been brought to them: fruits, cheese, miniature pastries and tiny bowls of sauces, all arranged into a complex flower pattern. Scarcely believable in the wilds of Kormettersland.

"There is a great deal for us to discover today, Kerikath," Kedy had said. His hair had been as white as the Ibisians', but the craggy, generous lines of his face were never so cold. "I fear at least half these fruits are new to me."

"Some will never be seen again," the Kerikath had replied. "We carried away seeds and seedlings, even uprooted established plants, but it was impossible to take everything in time." She reached out and selected from the arrangement a fruit which resembled a large cherry, darker and firmer. "A black denan takes ten years to grow to maturity and bear. In the best conditions they are a challenge for any who nurtures the AlKier’s gifts, prone to failure outside their ideal environment. We have seedlings, but they may not fruit here."

"Farak’s blessing on your planting, then," Kedy had murmured. "I must admit, I am overwhelmed by what you have brought with you. We have always been told that the misuse of wild magic could spark an uncontrollable fire which would consume the whole of Farakkan. If that is what your people faced, and still you had time to think of black denans and seed-stock, then it is a simply amazing achievement."

The Kerikath had selected a diamond of pale cheese from the array, face solemn as she considered Kedy’s unspoken question. "We did not face fire, only a crawling black roil of power which transmuted everything it touched to water."

"An opposite," Kedy had said. "If you are able, can I prevail upon you to tell us what happened? I know our adepts wish to discuss this in detail, that you will be asked more often than kindness and forbearance should allow, but you understand our need to know?"