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erre, for once perceptive at an inconvenient time, says, "It's almost certain. The question is when. The warlord is ailing politically, and she's no longer young. There are forces from the west who want to see Qenar vanquished." "What forces from the west?" she snaps irritably. Are vague warnings the best he can manage? With an effort, she recovers her temper--it's only so far she can push him, she knows--but his next words nearly make her lose it again. "We wish we knew," he says darkly. "We can't *get* intelligence further west than Avrezin. The two or three operatives we had in Sorevv haven't responded in over a season. The traders have been telling tales of a white-robed army, fanatics every one of them. And possibly mages. It's been a long time since Sorevv has seriously entertained notions of holy war, but not so long that they don't remember. And as far those further west, who knows what they want? Qenar's resources are not inconsiderable." He finds yet *another* document (how does he keep track of them all?) and signs it, then stamps it. "You'll leave tomorrow. This writ will give you passage, food and mounts to Tenu." Then he nods a dismissal. "Tomorrow," she mutters as she gives him a halfhearted salute with the same hand holding the writ and wheels around to leave. She knows her commandant hates her, but this much...? She considers promising to be respectful to him, but dismisses the idea immediately. She knows this must be important...and she'd lose half her fun in life, besides. In her musings, she almost doesn't hear him say, softly, "Good luck. I hear Rahen's not an easy man to deal with." The night is long and troubled; the day dawns clear. It is a rawboned, testy mount they give her at the stables, but at least the road ahead is not too long, and Marika reaches Tenu without incident (gladly trading in the ill-tempered horse for another at Fort Blackrock, and afterwards bullying the grooms to give her better mounts). Of course, it seems people at the Stronghold are no more considerate than her own familiar Commander Zerre...for just as she gets off her horse, before she is even shown her quarters or given an opportunity to visit the bathhouse, a messenger shows up. [The Stronghold is the "capitol building" of Qenar, at Tenu.] And says, "Marshal Rahen would like to confer with you, Marika." By some means he must have anticipated her arrival. Not improbable, considering the messenger networks between the cantons. But unlikely--and just what does Rahen want to know so badly? "As if I have a choice," she grumbles, gesturing for the messenger to lead the way. If she ends up making the marshal's office stink of horse and sweat, it's his fault. And if she isn't coherent, it's his fault. And--she carefully reins in her temper, knowing that the marshal is nothing like her own commandant, and the last thing she wants happening to her is being thrown out of the military and being sent back to farm. She tries to recall what she has heard of Rahen.
Back: Marika's Prologue 1 Tower graphic courtesy of Clipart Castle.
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