Return to Eddarta (15 page)

It was an effective speech, calling up the fears of the greedy Lords. I knew of at least one case in which a candidate had been refused because he had
too
powerful a mindgift.

If I had been capable of it physically, I would have started sweating. Tarani, however, seemed totally in control.

“May I speak, Lords?” Tarani asked.

Indomel’s friend had been in the act of sitting down. Hollin rose smoothly to field Tarani’s question.

“The other candidate has spoken freely, Tarani. You may say whatever you wish.”

“Sarel has offered sound advice,” she said, startling everyone by using the man’s name.

She must have learned a lot about Lords and Eddartan law from Zefra while I was “involved” at the Lingis mine,
I thought.

“It is true,” Tarani continued, “that my knowledge of present-day Eddarta is limited. Yet I know a great deal about the source from which it sprang.” She drew her sword, causing a twitch or two around the table, and held it at arm’s length, horizontally, so that there could be no doubt of the sword’s material. It was made of rakor—the Gandalaran word for the iron and tin alloy Ricardo would have called steel—and it gleamed with a silver light that drew all eyes to it.

“This sword is the King’s sword,” she said, “lost since Harthim abandoned Kä and came here. I have walked in the streets of Kä, and shared the lifememory of some who lived there. And I learned well the lesson Sarel teaches.” Her voice became softer, very gentle. “I believed Harthim to be evil, but I touched his memory and found that he was merely the creation of his time. I believed Zanek to be good, and strong, and found in him the weakness of a normal man. I knew that only two qualities are indispensable in a leader: a willingness to work harder than everyone else; and the ability to learn from, correct, and then forget mistakes. And I began to think that I might have those qualities.

“I shall not lie before the Council of Lords,” she said. “As a child, I was taught by a man who had bitter memories of Eddarta and a lingering hatred of the Lords. I believed as he did, because I—because I loved and trusted him, and I thought he was my father. When I learned that Pylomel had sired me I was first appalled, and then resolved to reach for the position of High Lord as a means to revenge.”

Tarani put away the sword, and opened her empty hands toward the Lords.

“I have no such motive now, my Lords. I shall not say that I have lost the prejudices taught me by Volitar, or that I wholly approve of all I have seen in Eddarta. Yet I
will
say that I believe Eddarta, Lords and landservants both, will profit from your acceptance of me as High Lord.

“I have come here because I accept Eddarta as part of my heritage, and I want to free the city of the devious and selfish leadership of Indomel.”

Indomel started, and his eyes narrowed. Hollin noticed, and flashed him a warning look. The boy’s lips pressed into a thin line as Tarani continued.

“Sarel rightly cites my ignorance of Eddartan ways. Then who shall teach me? Who but the Council of Lords? Think what it will be like to have a High Lord who listens to each of you equally, and makes a judgment impartially, free of generations of favor trades and ‘special arrangements.’

“Sarel cleverly implied that the Lords might do well to fear my mindgift. I tell you now that you need fear me much less than Indomel, for danger lies in use. I was taught, and I continue to believe, that using mindpower to lead another person into harm is a deed of incomparable evil that degrades both user and used. You witnessed the events of a few minutes ago. Who, in that exchange, used mindpower for aggression, and who only in defense? The Council has my word that I shall never imitate my brother. I shall not use my mindgift to humiliate or harm another person, or to gain agreement from an unwilling Lord.”

The men around the table looked uneasily at one another. Indomel saw the exchange, and a muscle in his cheek started to twitch.

“I make one last point, my Lords. Sarel has said that the balance between my proven mindgift and Indomel’s proven birthright is even, and he offers you the security of the known in Indomel’s favor. I offer two things to be considered in the balance.

“First, I bring you the
unknown
, and with it the
opportunity
for change, with my promise I shall learn what is before I offer alternatives.

“Second, the sword of the Kings has returned to light in my hand. I believe that to be both confirmation of my right to lead and an omen of renewed prosperity for the descendants of the Kings.

“Indomel and Tarani bid to be High Lord,” she finished. “The Lords must choose who they will follow.”

“Lies!” Indomel exploded. “She speaks only the vicious lies she heard from Zefra, that dralda who claims to be
her
mother and …
my
… mother… .”

Indomel’s voice trailed off, as he realized what he was saying.

Beside me, Zefra smiled.

Hollin leaned over the table and looked down it toward Indomel and Tarani. “You are a stranger to me, Tarani,” he said.

I thought back, and realized that while a large population in Lower Eddarta had seen us coming into the city, only Indomel‘s guards had seen us
inside
Lord City.
If you don’t count our breakneck escape from Eddarta the night Thymas killed Pylomel, that is,
I thought.
Everybody in Lord Hall that night was too busy panicking to get a good look at us.

Hollin’s statement seemed to require some sort of answer. Tarani nodded.

“Where did you gain your knowledge of Eddartan law, and how did you learn of what you claim to be your true parentage?”

“I learned the identity of my mother,” she said, “from a single letter sent to Volitar from Eddarta, hoarded as a man cherishes a great treasure. It is from Zefra that I have learned all else that pertains to Eddarta.”

“Zefra,” Hollin said. Tarani’s mother stepped away from me to stand beside her daughter.

“Yes, Hollin.”

“Am I mistaken in my belief that, until today, you have not left the home of the High Lord without escort since your return to Eddarta, twenty years ago?”

“You are not mistaken, Hollin,” Zefra answered, tossing her head back. “I have been imprisoned, first by my husband, and then by my son. I thank you for your assistance in freeing me today.”

Zefra said she had “contacts,”
I thought.
Hollin must be one of them. But Zefra, obviously, has not told him about Tarani. Good move, I’d guess. Hollin seems a fair man. If he thought Zefra had tried to pre-influence him for this decision, he would have less respect for Tarani.

“Will you explain,” Hollin said, “how you were able to share your knowledge with your daughter?”

“Tarani joined my imprisonment, Hollin. We were together for nearly a moon, and learned much of each other in that time.”

“Who was High Lord during that period?” Hollin asked, with an increased tension in his voice.

“Indomel,” Zefra said. “I dare to anticipate your next question, Hollin. Indomel had been told the same truth I spoke outside—that Tarani is Pylomel’s firstborn child.”

Hollin fairly roared at Indomel: “Confirm or deny!”

The boy jumped in fright, shrank back, then straightened his shoulders and regained a shred of composure.

“Confirmed,” he said. “What my
mother
leaves out is that Tarani came to Lord City as a thief, intending to steal the—uh, the High Lord’s treasure. I apprehended her and, out of consideration of her possible family connection to me, chose to detain her in the comfort of Zefra’s apartments, rather than assign her to one of the mines.”

Indomel stepped toward the center of his end of the table, crowding Zefra.

“Be aware, fellow Lords, that theft remains her goal even now, as she presses this preposterous claim.”

A pair of hands slapped the tile-topped table, and we all jumped at the sound. The Lord seated nearest Tarani, an old man with only a wispy fringe remaining around a nearly bald pate, scraped back his chair and stood up.

“Forgive me, Lord Hollin,” he said in a scratchy, no-nonsense voice, “but I am too old to stand on ceremony when it is not necessary. What we have here is an insoluble matter of
opinion
, with no way to tell who is and who is not lying. The lady Zefra,” he said, with a bobbing bow in her direction, “while she is loved by us all, is known to have been—ah—erratic in the past and—ah—somewhat in conflict with the High Lord. I hasten to say that I personally believe Zefra, but I hesitate to base a Council decision solely on her statements.”

He cleared his throat.

“Great Harthim,” he muttered, as if to himself, “I am getting to be as bad as everyone else.”

He continued more loudly. “To—ah—get to the point quickly, only three things I have heard today were worth listening to. One was the reading of the Bronze.” The old man bowed to Tarani. “For that I thank you, my dear. The second was Sarel’s evaluation that, by ordinary means of judging, Indomel and Tarani are equally qualified to be High Lord. And the third, my friends, the third was Tarani’s assessment of the qualities of leadership.

“The lady has been called a thief. Would anyone here deny that Indomel has been called worse things?”

A few snickers, quickly muffled, sounded around the table.

“Lord Hollin, you are the expert on the rules, but it seems to me that this situation calls for a vote. I shall claim the privilege of age and give you mine now, to spare these old bones the chore of standing up again.

“I recommend the Council choose Tarani.”

The old man sat down.

One by one, the other Lords stood up and voted for Tarani. It was unanimous. Indomel watched each Lord with wild eyes, and when the sixth vote was cast, he started to shout.

“You fools!” he yelled. “She will dominate you all. She knows how to use the—the—the—”

His eyes bulged and he stopped trying to talk. His hands flew to his throat and he made ineffectual gasping motions with his mouth.

Tarani scrambled around her mother to support the boy as he struggled for air, then looked sternly at Zefra and said, “Stop it.”

Zefra’s face shone with triumph and vindication, and in her eyes burned the glow of mindpower.

“Stop it, Mother!” Tarani ordered again.

She was taller and looked stronger than the sallow boy who had been High Lord of Eddarta—who was on the verge of passing out. The Lord beside them had stood up in alarm, and Tarani passed the ailing boy into his hands. Zefra’s eyes followed Indomel’s movement.

Tarani took one step toward her mother and delivered a perfect right cross. Zefra flew back into the old Lord’s lap, and Indomel started breathing—noisily. Tarani glanced at me, and I remembered how to move. Together we pulled Zefra off the flustered old man, each of us draping one of her arms over our shoulders.

“As Zefra said, she and I had time to get to know one another during the period of my imprisonment,” Tarani said, addressing the Lords. “Her life of solitude has left her unbalanced on the side of hatred and vengeance. I will not allow her to express those feelings through abuse of her power.”

She glanced at Indomel, who had all he could do to stay on his feet.

“I accept the place you offer me with gratitude and great hope for the future, my Lords. Hollin, I will appreciate your seeing to whatever has to be done officially. I shall take Zefra to the Harthim residence and begin the process of making it my home. When Indomel is sufficiently recovered, please ask the guards to escort him there, as well.

“Rikardon,” she said (and it was my ego, and not her voice, that made it seem an afterthought), “will reside with us. On the third day from now, let us meet here again, and begin my education. For now, gentlemen, good day.”

Hollin came out of the Council chamber ahead of us and held back an intensely curious crowd while Tarani and I dragged her mother out of Lord Hall and down the walkway leading to the Harthim family area, and the huge and rambling structure in which the High Lord traditionally lived. Hollin must have given some kind of signal, because a squad of the High Guard—until recently at the command of Indomel—followed us at a respectful distance.

“Zefra is going to be furious when she wakes up,” I whispered.

“And she will meet a greater fury,” Tarani said grimly. “How bitter that the first act to take place under my leadership should be attempted murder, through compulsion. I dared not even
speak
to her, Rikardon,” she said, “much less begin to counteract the compulsion, as I did at the city gates. My anger was too great.”

“You handled it in the best way possible,” I assured her. And then, because I did not like Zefra very much and felt a trifle guilty about that, I said: “I suspect her anger got away from her, too, and that all she started out to do was keep Indomel from mentioning—”

I prudently left the word unsaid, and Tarani looked at me over her mother’s head and smiled, just a little. “Thank you for saying that, Rikardon. I will make an effort to see the incident as kindly as you do.” Her gaze rested for a moment on her mother’s head, which wobbled slightly with the concussion of our steps. “It would be ironic, would it not, if I felt forced to continue Zefra’s imprisonment?”

We had reached the entry to the Harthim area, which was an opening between two barracks buildings. The two men on guard stepped toward the center of the path to block our way, then caught sight of the honor guard behind us and separated again. They offered to help with Zefra, but we declined. She was a small burden for the two of us, and I suspected that Tarani relished the contact with her mother.

The back entrance to the big house lay just beyond the barracks. We went inside and wound through the twisting, unpredictable corridors to Zefra’s room. I left Tarani alone with Zefra, and wandered off on my own.

I was looking for, and wanted badly, a flask of barut.

That wasn’t so bad
, I thought.
If you’re fond of tension and you enjoy confrontation.

I snagged a servant who replied to my request for directions with a mumbled answer and a reluctance to look me in the face, then hurried off. Following his guidance, I found the sitting room close to the front of the house, in which Indomel had conducted a memorably uncomfortable interview, just before he sent me off to serve at the Lingis copper mine.