The Redemption of Althalus (75 page)

Though she had known his intentions, she’d been quite helpless. In time, his accusation and the mockery he’d called a trial had taken place, and her inevitable condemnation to the flames had come about.

And then Bheid had come to Peteleya with earthquakes and avalanches in his wake to save her from the fire.

“It wasn’t entirely his idea, Leitha,” Althalus told her, speaking aloud. “Emmy sent us, and the Knife was involved as well.”

“I know that now, Daddy,” she replied, “but I was wound just a little tight that day for some reason. Then, after Eliar showed me the Knife, I wasn’t alone anymore. I was suddenly up to my ears in family, and Bheid had made that possible—at least that’s the way I saw it.”

“And now you love him.”

“I thought that was fairly obvious, Daddy.”

“There’s that word again.”

“You don’t listen very well, do you, Althalus? That’s part of what the word ‘family’ means, isn’t it? When we were back in Wekti and Eliar couldn’t see, you kept beating me over the head with ‘family,’ ‘brothers and sisters,’ and all those other clever reasons you invented to persuade me to lower my defenses and let Eliar into my mind. Didn’t you realize that you were offering yourself as my father when you did that? I really need a father, and you volunteered. It’s too late for you to back out now.”

He surrendered. “I guess there’s a sort of perverse logic to what you’re saying, Leitha. All right, if it’s ‘daddy’ you want, ‘daddy’ it is.”

“Oh, good!” she said with feigned enthusiasm. “Now, what are we going to do about poor Brother Bheid?”

“Emmy’s taking care of it.”

“No, Daddy, she isn’t. She’s waiting for you to realize that it’s
your
responsibility.”

“Where did you come up with
that
peculiar idea?”

“I have my sources, Daddy. Trust me.” Then her pale face grew pensive. “A day’s coming when Bheid and I are going to have to do some dreadful things to certain people, and we’ll both need somebody to hold on to. I think you just got the job.”

“Could you be a bit more specific, Leitha? ‘Dreadful things’ is a little vague.”

“It’s the best I can do for right now, Daddy. Dweia knows, and she’s trying to conceal it from me, but I’m catching some hints. You’ve
got
to bring Bheid back to his senses, Althalus. He
must
be able to function. I can’t do this alone!”

And then she began to cry again, and without even thinking, Althalus took her in his arms and held her until it had passed.

“I need to go back to the House,” Althalus told Eliar as the party was returning to Chief Albron’s Hall from Alaia’s cottage.

“Is it urgent?”

“Probably. I need to talk with Emmy. She’s been playing games again, and she’s starting to irritate me.”

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble, Althalus.”

“It won’t be the first time. When we get there, I think you’d better wait in the dining room.”

“It’s going to be one of
those
?”

“Probably so, and you don’t want to be around once Emmy and I get started.”

Althalus and Eliar dropped back as Chief Albron and the others moved up through the village, and then they stepped into an alleyway, where Eliar opened a door that only he could see. “Good luck,” Eliar told Althalus at the foot of the stairs leading up to Dweia’s tower.

Althalus grunted and stomped up the stairs.

“What a delightful surprise,” Dweia said pleasantly when Althalus banged the tower door open.

“Stop that, Em,” he said shortly. “You knew I was coming, and you know exactly why.”

“My, aren’t we peevish today.”

“Quit. Why didn’t you tell me what you wanted me to do?”

“Bheid wasn’t ready yet, love.”

“That’s too bad. I’ll
make
him ready. Between the two of you, you’ve just about destroyed Leitha, and I
won’t
permit that!”

“You’re taking this ‘daddy’ business seriously, aren’t you, Althie?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Now where’s Bheid?”

“You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

“That depends on how stubborn he gets. I might have to slam him up against a wall a few times, but I
will
get through to him. Then you and I are going to have a nice, long talk.”

Her green eyes narrowed. “I don’t care for your tone, Althalus.”

“You’ll probably get over it. Where’s Bheid?”

“Two doors down the corridor from the dining room—on the left. I don’t think he’ll let you in, though.”

“How’s he going to stop me?” Then Althalus turned and went down the tower stairs two at a time.

“No hitting!” Dweia called after him.

Althalus reached Bheid’s door and stopped briefly to get his anger under control. “Bheid,” he said then, “it’s me—Althalus. Open the door.”

There was no answer.

“Bheid! Open it! Now!”

There was still a profound silence.

Althalus decided at the last instant
not
to use any one of a half-dozen words from the Book to open Bheid’s locked door. He kicked it to pieces instead.

Bheid, blank eyed and unshaven, huddled in one corner of the cell-like room, rhythmically banging his head against the stone wall.

“Stop that,” Althalus told him, “and get on your feet.”

“I am lost,” Bheid moaned. “I have killed.”

“Yes, I noticed that,” Althalus replied, shrugging. “It wasn’t very neat, but it got the job done. If you’re going to make a habit of it, you should practice a bit.”

Bheid blinked incredulously. “Don’t you understand?” he demanded. “I’m a priest. Killing is forbidden.”

“You didn’t have any problems with hiring those assassins to kill the Aryo of Kanthon.”

“That wasn’t the same at all.”

“Really? What’s the difference?”

“I didn’t personally kill the Aryo.”

“That’s pure sophistry, Bheid, and you know it. Sin—if that’s what you want to call it—lies in the intent, not in the technicality of just who ran the knife into the victim. Yakhag killed Salkan, and what you did was exactly right. You’re
supposed
to kill the people who kill your friends.”

“But I’m a priest.”

“I noticed that. Which religion, though? You can talk it over with Emmy, but I think she sees the world a bit differently from the way her brother does. This is all beside the point, though. If you don’t open the door to your mind to Leitha, I’ll do exactly the same thing to
that
door as I did to the one to this room. Your silly wallowing in guilt and self-pity’s destroying Leitha, you blithering idiot. I don’t care
how
many people you kill, Bheid, but if you hurt Leitha anymore, I’ll reach down your throat and jerk out your heart!”

“It’s my fault that Salkan was killed.”

“Yes, it was. So what?”

Bheid stared at him in horror.

“You didn’t think I was going to excuse you, did you? If something’s been done, it’s done. There aren’t any punishments or rewards, Bheid—only consequences. You made a mistake; now you have to live with it—on your own. I won’t let you slop your guilt all over the rest of the family. If you’re going to eat your liver, do it on your own time and someplace private.”

“I’m a murderer,” Bheid declared.

“Not a very good one, though. Now quit this sniveling and come back to work.” Althalus looked around the cluttered cell. “Clean up this mess and then clean yourself up as well. You and I are going back to Chief Albron’s hall. You have a wedding ceremony to perform.”

“I can’t!”

“Oh, yes you can, Brother Bheid, and you
will
—even if I have to stand behind you with a club. Now,
move
!”

The wedding day of Albron and Astarell dawned clear and cold. Because of the season, the decorations in the hall were largely limited to evergreen boughs and bright-colored cloth bows.

The traditional bachelor party for Chief Albron the previous evening had left the assorted Clan Chiefs, Sergeants, and visiting nobles feeling a bit delicate that morning, and for some reason Chief Twengor found that vastly amusing.

Alaia had more or less taken charge of the young ladies in the bridal party, whose activities during the week leading up to the wedding had consisted, so far as Althalus could tell, largely of dressmaking and giggling.

Chief Gweti and the ancient Chief Delur had journeyed to Albron’s hall for the ceremony, since the wedding of a Clan Chief traditionally required the presence of all the Chiefs of Arum. Gweti largely kept to himself during the festivities. Andine’s decision
not
to loot the city of Kanthon had put the pinch-faced Chief’s nose out of joint, and he obviously found scant reason to celebrate.

The ceremony was scheduled for noon. Althalus gathered that this was an ancient Arum custom—designed primarily to give the celebrants time to recover from the previous evening’s entertainments,
and
not to interfere too much with the postceremony celebration. Arums appeared to take their parties very seriously.

There had been a certain amount of religious controversy about the wedding, since the God of the Arums was the mountain God Bherghos, while the Plakands worshiped Kherdhos, the herd God.

“Brother Bheid’s going to perform the ceremony,” Althalus announced in a tone that ended the discussion rather abruptly.

And so it was that as noon approached, Bheid, garbed in his black priestly robe, stood at the front of Albron’s central hall with Chief Albron, Sergeant Khalor, and Chief Kreuter awaiting the entrance of the bride and her attendants, Andine and Leitha.

Althalus stood with the other guests in the hall to witness the ceremony, and just as the great door at the back of the hall opened for Astarell and her ladies in waiting, he caught a very familiar fragrance. Startled, he turned to look full in the face of Dweia. “What are you
do
ing
?” he demanded in a choked voice.

“It’s all right, love,” she replied. “I’ve been invited.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I didn’t think you could leave the House in your real form.”

“Whatever gave you
that
ridiculous notion?”

“You never have before. You’ve always changed into Emmy the cat. I thought your
real
form wasn’t allowed out of the House.”

“
Nobody
tells me what I can or can’t do, you ninny. I thought you knew that.” Then she pursed her perfect lips. “I’ll admit that I don’t do it very often,” she conceded. “I seem to attract a lot of attention in my real form.”

“I wonder why,” he murmured.

“Be nice, Althalus.” Then she paused. “Have you recovered from the peeves yet?”

“Peeves?”

“You seemed a bit grouchy the last time you came by the House.”

“I took my peeves out on Bheid.”

“You didn’t really slam him against the wall, did you?”

“Not
too
hard, no. Here comes Astarell.”

Astarell was radiant as she marched to the front of the central hall, and Chief Albron’s expression was one of vapid adoration.

“Give me your handkerchief, Althalus,” Dweia said, sniffling slightly.

He looked at her sharply. “Are you crying, Em?” he asked in a startled voice.

“I always cry at weddings, Althalus. Don’t you?”

“I haven’t really attended all that many weddings, Em,” he confessed.

“You’d probably better get used to them, pet. In
my
view of the world, weddings are
very
important. Now just be quiet and give me your handkerchief.”

“Yes, dear,” he replied.

C H A P T E R     T H I R T Y - S E V E N

D
o you really have to leave, Althalus?” Chief Albron said two days later.

“I’m afraid so, Albron,” Althalus replied, leaning back in his chair in one of the upper rooms in Albron’s hall. “There’s trouble brewing in Perquaine, and I don’t want it getting out of hand. If it’s all right—and probably even if it’s not—I’m going to keep Sergeant Khalor. I might need him on down the line, and I may not have time to come back and fetch him.”

“It’s all right with me, Althalus. It might go a little ways toward paying what I owe you.”

“Do you owe me for something?”

“Don’t be coy, Althalus. You had a very large hand in arranging my marriage to Astarell.”

“It solved a number of problems.” Althalus replied, shrugging.

“What’s
really
going on in Perquaine?”

“A peasant rebellion—at least on the surface.”

Albron shook his head mournfully. “The lowlanders just don’t understand ordinary people, do they?”

“They haven’t got a clue. The aristocrats spend so much time admiring themselves in their mirrors that they don’t pay much attention to the commoners. From what I’ve heard, these rebellions break out every ten years or so. You’d think that after five or six times, the aristocrats might start to realize that they’re doing something wrong.”

“I certainly
hope
not. If the lowlanders start behaving like rational human beings, the clans of Arum are going to be out of work.”

“I’ve got another favor I’d like to ask of you, Albron.”

“All you have to do is ask.”

“Could you keep Andine and Leitha here for a while?”

“Of course, but why? They’d be safe in the House, wouldn’t they?”

“I’d like to keep Leitha away from Brother Bheid for right now. He’s going through a crisis of sorts, and I think it might be best if he suffered his way through it on his own. Leitha doesn’t really need to get involved. Bheid and I—along with Eliar and Sergeant Khalor—are going to be passing through the House fairly often, so it might be best if the young ladies are somewhere else for a while.”

“Gher, too?” Albron asked.

“No, I think I’ll keep Gher with me. Every so often he comes up with some very interesting ideas.”

“Doesn’t he?” Albron smiled. “Oh, one other thing. If trouble breaks out in Perquaine, send Eliar here. I’ll have an army in the hallways of Dweia’s House before you can blink twice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Chief Albron,” Althalus said, rising to his feet. “You’d better get your men to working on the corrals, though. As soon as Kreuter gets back to Plakand, he’s going to start herding Astarell’s dowry here. You’ll be overrun with horses before too long.”