Soul of the Fire (33 page)

“
You look as if something is—”

“
No,” she insisted. “I hit my head, that’s why I look so shaken. I’m fine. Really. It simply shook my confidence.”

“
I understand,” Dalton said sympathetically. “Things like that make one realize how short life can be. Make you realize how”—he snapped his fingers—“you could go at any time.”

Her lip trembled. She had to swallow before she could speak. “Yes. I see what you mean. But I feel much better, now. My balance is back.”

“
Is it now? I’m not so sure.”

Teresa pushed at him. “Dalton, can’t you see the poor woman is shaken?” She gave him another push. “Go on and talk your business while I see to poor Claudine.”

Dalton bowed and moved off to allow Teresa some privacy to find out what she would. He was pleased with the two Haken boys. It looked as if they had put the fear of the Keeper into her. By the unsteady way she walked, they had obviously delivered the message in the way he had wanted it delivered. Violence always helped people understand instructions.

He was gratified to know he had judged Fitch correctly. The way the boy stared at Dalton’s sword, he knew. Claudine’s eyes reflected fear when she looked at his sword; Fitch’s eyes held lust. The boy had ambition. Morley was useful, too, but mostly as muscle. His head, too, was not much more than muscle. Fitch understood instructions better and, as eager as he was, would be of more use. At that age they had no clue how much they didn’t know.

Dalton shook hands with a man who rushed up to pay him a compliment about his new position. He presented a civil face, but didn’t remember the man’s name, or really hear the effusive praise; Dalton’s attention was elsewhere.

Director Linscott was just finishing speaking with a stocky man about taxes on the wheat stored in the man’s warehouses. No trifling matter, considering the vast stores of grain Anderith held. Dalton politely, distantly, extracted himself from the nameless man and sidled closer to Linscott.

When the Director turned, Dalton smiled warmly at him and clasped his hand before he had a chance to withdraw it. He had a powerful grip. His hands still bore the calluses of his life’s work.

“
I am so glad you could make it to the feast, Director Linscott. I pray you are enjoying the evening, so far. We yet have much the Minister would like to discuss.”

Director Linscott, a tall wiry fellow with a sun-rumpled face invariably looking as if he were plagued by an everlasting toothache, didn’t return the smile. The four oldest Directors were guild masters. One was from the important clothmaking guild, one from the associated papermaking guild, another a master armorer, and Linscott. Linscott was a master mason. Most of the remaining Directors were respected moneylenders or merchants, along with a solicitor and several barristers.

Director Linscott’s surcoat was an outdated cut, but finely kept nonetheless, and the warm brown went well with the the man’s thin gray hair. His sword, too, was old, but the leather scabbard’s exquisite brassware at the throat and tip was in gleaming condition. The silver emblem—the mason’s dividers—stood out in bright silhouette against the dark leather. The sword’s blade, undoubtedly, would be just as well maintained as everything else about the man.

Linscott didn’t deliberately try to intimidate people, it just seemed to come naturally to him, the way a surly disposition came naturally to a mother brown bear with cubs. Linscott considered the Anderith people, those working fields, or hauling nets, or at employment in a trade through a guildhall, his cubs.

“
Yes,” Linscott said, “I hear rumors the Minister has grand plans. I hear he has thoughts of disregarding the strong advice of the Mother Confessor, and breaking with the Midlands.”

Dalton spread his hands. “I’m sure I don’t speak out of turn when I tell you from my knowledge of the situation that Minister Chanboor intends to seek the best terms for our people. Nothing more, nothing less.

“
You, for instance. What if we were to surrender to the new Lord Rahl and join the D’Haran Empire? This Lord Rahl has decreed all lands must surrender their sovereignty—unlike our alliance with the Midlands. That would mean, I suppose, he would no longer have need for Directors of Cultural Amity.”

Linscott’s tanned face turned ruddy with heat. “This isn’t about me, Campbell. It’s about the freedom of the people of the Midlands. About their future. About not being swallowed up and having our land brutalized by a rampaging Imperial Order army bent on the conquest of the Midlands.

“
The Anderith ambassador has relayed Lord Rahl’s word that while all lands must surrender to him and be brought under one rule and one command, each land will be allowed to retain its culture, so long as we do not break laws common to all. He has promised that if we accept his entreaty while the invitation is still open to all, we will be party to creating those common laws. The Mother Confessor has put her word to his.”

Dalton respectfully bowed his head to the man. “You misunderstand Minister Chanboor’s position, I’m afraid. He will propose to the Sovereign we go with the Mother Confessor’s advice, if he sincerely believes it to be in the best interest of our people. Our very culture is at stake, after all. He has no wish to choose sides prematurely. The Imperial Order may offer our best prospects for peace. The Minister wants only peace.”

The Director’s dark scowl seemed to chill the air. “Slaves have peace.”

Dalton affected an innocent, helpless look. “I am no match for your quick wit, Director.”

“
You seem ready to sell your own culture, Campbell, for the empty promises of an invading horde obsessed with conquest. Ask yourself, why else have they come, uninvited? How can you so smoothly proclaim you are considering thrusting a knife into the heart of the Midlands? What kind of man are you, Campbell, after all they have done for us, to turn your back on the advice and urging of our Mother Confessor?”

“
Director, I think you—”

Linscott shook his fist. “Our ancestors who fought so futilely against the Haken horde no doubt shiver in their eternal rest to hear you so smoothly consider bargaining away their sacrifice and our heritage.”

Dalton paused, letting Linscott hear his own words fill the silence and echo between the two of them. It was for this harvest Dalton had sowed his seeds of words.

“
I know you are sincere, Director, in your fierce love of our people, and in your unflinching desire to protect them. I am sorry you find my wish for the same insincere.” Dalton bowed politely. “I pray you enjoy the rest of the evening.”

To graciously accept such an insult was the pinnacle of courtesy. But more than that, it revealed the one who would inflict such wounds as beneath the ancient ideals of Ander honor.

Only Hakens were said to be so cruelly demeaning to Anders.

With the utmost respect for the one who had insulted him, Dalton turned away as if he had been asked to leave, as if he had been driven off. As if he had been humiliated by a Haken overlord.

The Director called his name. Dalton paused and looked back over a shoulder.

Director Linscott screwed up his mouth, as if loosening it to test rarely used courtesy. “You know, Dalton, I remember you when you were with the magistrate in Fairfield. I always believed you were a moral man. I don’t now believe differently.”

Dalton cautiously turned around, presenting himself, as if he were prepared to accept another insult should the man wish to deliver one.

“
Thank you, Director Linscott. Coming from a man as respected as you, that is quite gratifying.”

Linscott gestured in a casual manner, as if still brushing at cobwebs in dark corners in his search for polite words. “So, I’m at a loss to understand how a moral man could allow his wife to parade around showing off her teats like that.”

Dalton smiled; the tone, if not the words themselves, had been conciliatory. Casually, as he stepped closer, he caught a full cup of wine from a passing tray and offered it to the Director. Linscott took the cup with a nod.

Dalton dropped his official tone and spoke as if he had been boyhood chums with the man. “Actually, I couldn’t agree more. In fact, my wife and I had an argument about it before we came down tonight. She insisted the dress was the fashion. I put my foot down, as the man of the marriage, and unconditionally forbade her from wearing the dress.”

“
Then why is she wearing it?”

Dalton sighed wearily. “Because I don’t cheat on her.”

Linscott cocked his head. “While I am glad to hear you don’t ascribe to the seeming new moral attitudes where indulgences are concerned, what has that to do with the price of wheat in Kelton?”

Dalton took a sip of his wine. Linscott followed his lead.

“
Well, since I don’t cheat on her, I’d have no play in bed if I won every argument.”

For the first time, the Director’s face took on a small smile. “I see what you mean.”

“
The younger women around here dress in an appalling fashion. I was shocked when I came here to work. My wife is younger, though, and wishes to fit in with them, to have friends. She fears being shunned by the other women of the household.

“
I have spoken with the Minister about it, and he agrees the women should not flaunt themselves in such a manner, but our culture grants to women prerogative over their own dress. The Minister and I believe that, together, we might think of a way to influence fashion to the better.”

Linscott nodded approvingly. “Well, I’ve a wife, too, and I don’t cheat, either. I am glad to hear you are one of the few today who adheres to the old ideals that an oath is sacred, and commitment to your mate is sacrosanct. Good man.”

Anderith culture revolved a great deal around honor and word given in solemn oath—about holding to your pledge. But Anderith was changing. It was a matter of great concern to many that moral bounds had, over the last few decades, fallen to scorn by many. Debauchery was not only accepted, but expected, among the fashionable elite.

Dalton glanced over at Teresa, back at the Director, and to Teresa again. He held out a hand.

“
Director, could I introduce you to my lovely wife? Please? I would consider it a personal favor if you lent your considerable influence to the issue of decency. You are a greatly respected man, and could speak with moral authority I could never begin to command. She thinks I speak only as a jealous husband.”

Linscott considered only briefly. “I would, if it would please you.”

Teresa was encouraging Claudine to drink some wine and was offering comforting words as Dalton shepherded the Director up beside the two women.

“
Teresa, Claudine, may I introduce Director Linscott.”

Teresa smiled into his eyes as he lightly kissed her hand. Claudine stared at the floor as the procedure was repeated on her hand. She looked as if she wanted nothing more than to either jump into the man’s arms for protection or run away as fast as she could. Dalton’s reassuring hand on her shoulder prevented either.

“
Teresa, darling, the Director and I were just discussing the issue of the women’s dresses and fashion versus decorum.”

Teresa canted a shoulder toward the Director, as if taking him into her confidence. “My husband is so stuffy about what I wear. And what do you think, Director Linscott? Do you approve of my dress?” Teresa beamed proudly. “Do you like it?”

Linscott glanced down from Teresa’s eyes only briefly. “Quite lovely, my dear. Quite lovely.”

“
You see, Dalton? I told you. My dress is much more conservative than the others. I’m delighted one so widely respected as yourself approves, Director Linscott.”

While Teresa turned to a passing cupbearer for a refill, Dalton gave Linscott a why-didn’t-you-help-me? look. Linscott shrugged and bent to Dalton’s ear.

“
Your wife is a lovely, endearing woman,” he whispered. “I couldn’t very well humiliate and disappoint her.”

Dalton made a show of sighing. “My problem, exactly.”

Linscott straightened, smiling all the way.

“
Director,” Dalton said, more seriously, “Claudine, here, had a terrible accident earlier. While taking a walk outside she caught her foot and took a nasty tumble.”

“
Dear spirits.” Linscott took up her hand. “Are you badly hurt, my dear?”

“
It was nothing,” Claudine mumbled.

“
I’ve know Edwin a good many years. I’m sure your husband would be understanding if I helped you to your rooms. Here, take my arm, and I will see you safely to your bed.”

As he took a sip, Dalton watched over the top of his cup. Her eyes swept the room. Those eyes held a world of longing to accept his offer. She might be safe if she did. He was a powerful man, and would have her under his wing.

This test would tell him what he needed to know. It wasn’t really a huge risk to play out such an experiment. People did disappear, after all, without ever being found. Still, there were risks in it. He waited for Claudine to tell him which way it would go. At last, she did.

“
Thank you for your concern, Director Linscott, but I’m fine. I have so looked forward to the feast, and seeing the guests come to the estate. I would forever regret missing it, and seeing our Minister of Culture speak.”

Linscott took a sip of wine. “You and Edwin have labored vigorously on new laws since he was elected burgess. You have worked with the Minister. What think you of the man?” He gestured with his cup for emphasis. “Your honest opinion, now.”