The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise (39 page)

He managed a respect from the saddle. “Would you like me to tell the innkeeper when he might expect your return?”

“How can you, when I don’t know myself when that will be, or if I will come this way again?” She managed a little respect in his direction. “Who knows in which direction the Oracle may send me?”

“If that is what you wish . . . “ Umver ended on a hesitant note.

Ninianee pulled herself up, straightened her back, and ignored the quivering she felt inside. “From what you tell me, my wishes have little to do with it – it is what the Oracle wishes that matters here. It is for me to listen and understand.” She tugged on the lead-rope, and felt Danliree resist with her will as well as her body, her pull not only of stubbornness but as if to avoid danger, the image of skulking drouches filling her thoughts from the mule’s mind.

“They smell something,” said Umver as his own animals began to fret, his second mule trying to bolt.

“Then we should part here, and soon, if we are to part at all,” said Ninianee. “This is not the place for panic.”

“No, it’s not.” He kneed his mules backward.

“Then we might as well be on our ways,” said Ninianee with a heartiness that felt completely unconvincing.

Umver looked around, saying to her, “I’ll go back to Vildecaz and inform Hoftstan Ruch that you have come safely this far, Duzeon.”

“Thank you,” she said, and kissed to her pony. “Come, Jenshaz.” As she moved toward the declivity, she didn’t bother to look back, and only the retreating sound of hooves gave her any indication that Umver was moving on.

The track Ninianee followed was a narrow one, cut into a rocky defile and leading up to the next sharp crest between snow-covered peaks and steep faces of barren rock, then along the ridge to the next ponderous crag. It took all the rest of the morning and into the afternoon to reach the small, remote, bowl-like valley tucked in the shoulder of the slope, where the air smelled of sulphur and the ground was warm enough to melt all the snow that had fallen. She saw a pair of pillars set on the far side of the valley, in front of a tumble of boulders that might contain a cave. Feeling the first surge of optimism, she urged her pony and mule to cross the small valley, and realized that both Jenshaz and Danliree were growing steadily more nervous, fussing at every unusual sound and unexpected shadow. Jenshaz, rarely one to balk, was tossing his head, preparing for a temper-tantrum, and Danliree had started pawing. Their edginess combined with Ninianee’s own sense of being followed made for a fidgety crossing of the warm, shallow crater, and by the time they arrived at the two pillars, Ninianee, her pony, and mule were sweating in spite of the chilly winds.

As soon as they were before the pillars, Ninianee pulled her animals to a halt, dismounted, tied the lead-ropes to elegant golden hooks at the top of bronze poles sunken into the ground next to the pillars, and went to unbuckle the straps holding down the offering-cup. She projected an image of a grassy meadow to calm Danliree and Jenshaz, but after brief reflection did not give them grain or water. She was sure she would not be gone long. Screwing up her courage, Ninianee approached the space between the pillars where the shadows shifted as if the rocks around them were alive. The wind, blowing through the jumble of stones moaned and crooned. Beyond the pillars the shadows piled up in ways that were deeper than the surroundings would account for, and it took all of Ninianee’s nerve to step through them into the dark.

“Golozath Oracle,” she called out, trying to keep her voice level and purposeful. “Ninianee, Duzeon of Vildecaz, brings you a gift, one that you will find pleasing, I hope, one that my father holds in high esteem. I bring it to you as a token of respect and the outward indication of sincerity of my inquiry.” She muttered a spell to sharpen her memory and retain every nuance of the Oracle’s answers. Now that she was in the presence of the Oracle, she was determined to make the most of this opportunity, and to leave little to chance.

Far back in the shadows a small, blue light glowed where there had been only blackness and an odor of damp fur filled the ill-revealed space. A skitter of pebbles had an eerie similarity to the sound of a chuckle. On the soughing wind came the suggestion of words – Duzeon of Vildecaz.

“I have need of your wisdom, Golozath Oracle.” She could feel broad steps leading gradually downward. “I ask that you will tell me what you know.”

There was a sound not unlike a door opening on rusty hinges, or perhaps a chortle from one unaccustomed to amusement.

Ninianee set her jaw and took two more steps down before she called out again. She saw a deep chasm to the left of the stairs, and moved more carefully. “I come, not only for myself, but for my father, who is missing from Vildecaz Castle and has not been seen for more than a month, and for my House.”

“Come nearer, Duzeon, and tell me what you want to know,” said an eerie voice speaking in Old Boarthine. There was no obvious quality to the tone to identify the speaker as old or young, male or female.

“I thank you for this opportunity,” Ninianee said as she had been instructed to do, reverencing the blue spark in the gathering shadows. “In appreciation of what you will do, I offer you this gift, which is itself an offering-cup, from the treasures of Vildecaz. It is very old, and one of our most valuable relics.”

“It is something your father will miss, since he holds it in high esteem,” said the Oracle, and the thin, searching wind went around Ninianee. “Still, the offering-cup is welcome to me. I will answer your questions. Place it on the stand to your right.” The small flame grew brighter, revealing a small table made of stone.

“Take it, Golozath Oracle, with my thanks, and the gratitude of all Vildecaz,” said Ninianee as she set the ivory cup down.

“I will, and give what I can in return,” the Oracle said, calmly confident. “What is it you wish to know?”

Ninianee took a deep breath. “My father, Duz Nimuar of Vildecaz, has vanished. All efforts to find him thus far, or to learn the method of his abduction, if that is what occurred, have failed, so I come to you to ask if you will tell us where he might be found.”

“He is in the ground but not of it,” the Oracle intoned.

Much as she wanted clarification, Ninianee had been warned not to ask for anything more than the Oracle offered – it was one answer to one inquiry until the Oracle said nothing more; she stifled the urge to pursue this. “Did he leave willingly, or was he captured somehow?”

“He left of his own accord, but that accord was coerced.”

This answer also begged for explication, but it could not be asked, so Ninianee went on to her next question. “What was his reason for going?”

“The Night Priests of Ayon-Tur compelled him to leave.”

“But they’re no longer – “ She broke off, thinking again of Yulko Bihn. “Why did my father go with them?”

“He sought to be found.”

More perplexing still, thought Ninianee. “What road should I take to find him?”

“The one leading into the wilds in the north, beyond the Boarthine Peninsula.”

“Is that where he has gone?”

The Oracle took a little time to frame an answer; the blue light sputtered as if in a gust of wind. “It is the way you must go if you wish to find him.”

Ninianee thought this over and decided to try another tack. “The manifestation during my sister’s last Shadowshow – was that truly a manifestation of our father?”

“It was a manifestation of Duz Nimuar, but it was not of his making,” said the Oracle.

“Was it the Night Priests of Ayon-Tur who caused him to appear?”

“One of their number summoned his likeness.”

“What was the meaning of the words he spoke: Agnith’s Treasure?”

“You will know that when you find him.”

“Then I will find him?” Ninianee almost held her breath waiting for an answer.

“If Agnith, the Preternatural and Bandikrion, the Destinizer, agree that you have proven your worth, you will find the man you seek.”

“What will become of him if I don’t find him?”

“You will continue your search.”

“Do the Night Priests of Ayon-Tur know I am searching for him?”

“They do.”

Impulsively she asked, “Am I being followed?”

“By the heart’s blood.”

She could not ask for a more specific response, for that went against the Oracle’s instructions. Still, something occurred to her that the Oracle might answer. “Then there is an agent of my father watching me?”

“Indirectly,” was the mystifying response.

“Is that agent a friend or foe?”

“You will know by the next full moon.”

Nothing more could be learned on that front, she decided – though she doubted that she had learned as much as she wanted. There was another question that Ninianee determined to ask, and decided to pose it now. “My sister, Erianthee, is going to the Court of Riast II at Tiumboj. Is she in any danger?”

“Travel is always dangerous, Courts are always treacherous, and destinations are not always understood.”

“Has she met any allies – real allies?”

“Some would say so.”

“Does our father’s absence put her at greater risk?”

“That will depend upon her,” said the Oracle, sounding more distant.

“How can I help her?

“Find where your father has gone.”

“Is Vildecaz safe in our absence?”

“As safe as it was when Duz Nimuar was there.” Now the voice was hollow and the words were hard to make out.

“Can my father’s talents be restored?”

This answer howled and roared so fiercely that only three words could be made out: treasure, vindication, and menace. The blue light went out and a pale-red one flickered behind Ninianee, who realized that there would be no more answers. She turned and slowly climbed the stairs and stepped out from between the pillars into glary sunlight. She couldn’t tell how long she had been in the presence of the Golozath Oracle, but she thought, from the angle of the shadows, it could not have been more than an hour. She unfastened her pony and her mule, mounted up and started across the shallow, round valley to the Y-junction where she had left Sinj Umver. As she rode, she thought about all the answers she had received, recalling them as precisely as she could, trying to discern the message in all that she had been told.

It was almost sundown when she arrived at the place Umver had turned back. The sky was filled with thin, high clouds, and there was the moaning of a rising wind. Little as she liked the idea, she knew this night would have to be spent in the open. At least she had a large, sturdy tent that could protect her and Jenshaz and Danliree from all but the most destructive storms. With that for bleak comfort, Ninianee began to look for outcroppings of rocks where she could make camp for the night.

* * *

“I found Pareo in the muniment room again. He claimed he was looking for records of the last dozen years, but he had a parchment more than a century old in his hand. He said that Heijot Merinex told him he could look at it. Sounds like the sort of thing Merinex would do,” Hoftstan Ruch told Poyneilum Zhanf as the two met in the apartments that the Magsto had claimed as his own. Rain was battering at the shuttered windows and a fire crackled on the hearth, but the room remained damply chill, and the two men kept their sajahs on over their husplans in order to stay warm.

“Zlatz!” Zhanf exclaimed while he gestured a spell to keep their exchange free from magical intrusions, undisrupted, and private. “What did he tell you about the parchment?”

“He said that he was trying to learn the lineage of the House of Vildecaz so he could uphold Nimuar’s claim at the Porzalk Court, if necessary. He said the Imperial Scholar asked for the information.”

“Do you believe him?” Zhanf asked.

“I don’t know,” Hoftstan admitted. “If he were a more likeable fellow, I might give him the benefit of the doubt, but he is such an officious, self-important figure, I have to make an effort to assist him with any reasonable inquiry, let alone these searches he conducts on his own.”

“That puzzles me – his manner – too cocksure for any secretary I have ever known, even an Imperial Secretary,” said Zhanf drumming his long fingers on the side of the canted desk-top where a book of incantations lay open. “No, try as I may, I can’t see how Zervethus Gaxamirin could have such a servant. Imperial Scholar or not, Gaxamirin’s secretary ought not to be an arrogant, insolent, impossible – “ He made himself stop. “If you can continue to keep a watch on him, it could be most useful. It may be that I’m sensing trouble where none exists, but I can’t rid myself of the feeling that Pareo has a mission that is not what he claims it is.”

“I have intended to do so, and I agree with you – he isn’t what he claims to be,” said Hoftstan, shaking his head in surprise. “So long as you authorize it, I will continue to observe him.”

“Oh, I authorize it. Never doubt that. The man needs to be watched,” Zhanf nodded, musing. “I suppose we might bring Dochanee Rocazin into our plans, so that not all of the demands will fall to you. As Housekeeper-General of the Castle, she is in an excellent position to observe anything Pareo might do, and to hear anything the servants might discover.”

“If she knows what is happening, then I am certain she’ll be willing to help,” said Hoftstan.