Warautumn Read Free Page B

herself.”
    “Or all the chiefs,” Preedor suggested. “That’s what I’d do, if I was ruthless.”
    “Maybe even Rrath,” Tryffon took up again. “To show they would even sacrifice their own.”
    Vorinn snorted. “
Rrath?
Well, they probably do consider him a traitor, so he’d be expendable in that regard. On the other hand, he was unconscious the last we heard of him. Besides which, they don’t dare kill him, because—conscious—he knows more about the gems than anyone else they’ve got to hand.”
    Veen cleared her throat. “Speaking of Rrath, has anyone told Esshill about all this? He’ll have heard anyway, by now; but I think we owe it to him.”
    Vorinn scratched his chin. “No, and I suppose we ought to.” He glanced up at the squire. “Do you know where—?”
    The girl nodded and darted out—only to return an instant later with a spare, tired-looking young man of twenty, dressed in plain Argen-a livery, for all he was not Argen-a. His eyes were grim, his mouth a thin, hard line.
    “He was on his way here,” the squire explained. “We met in transit.”
    “And I can imagine why,” Vorinn murmured, motioning Esshill to one of the spare seats they always kept open in the Council Tent. “You are Rrath syn Garnill’s bond-brother, is that correct?”
    Esshill nodded glumly. “I am,” he added after a breath, for courtesy.
    “And you are no doubt aware that affairs have changed, as far as the King’s captivity is concerned?”
    Esshill looked uncomfortable. “I know that Avall disappeared from the arcade at Gem-Hold, that Kylin might have been involved, and that they may have returned here, and vanished again, with half the Regency Council.”
    Vorinn nodded in turn. “And what you want to know is whether this in any way involved Rrath?”
    Esshill tensed, but would not look at anyone. “I’m grateful anyone remembered him,” he said harshly—“and surprised.”
    “He’s a prisoner the same as everyone else in the hold,” Vorinn replied with forced calm. “We’ve as much concern for him as for anyone—except the King, of course—and you have to understand that.”
    “I do—in theory. That is, my head does. My heart doesn’t. My
heart
says that Rrath has been used over and over—and I’ve had to suffer through it at least as badly as Rann has suffered because of Avall.”
    “Agreed,” Tryffon rumbled. “But you must in turn concede that Rrath is very smart, for all he might also be a fool. But in either case, it was his choice to cast his lot with the Ninth Face—of which decision, so I am aware, you were not informed.”
    “I wasn’t,” Esshill retorted. “And believe me, I
will
have an accounting of him for that if he ever regains consciousness. Until then”—he looked down again, eyes bright with tears—“it would—Forgive me, Lords, but I must say this—It would be nice if I had any sense at all that even one of you cared a broken stone about my bond-mate’s fate.”
    “If you have strong words to say,” Tryffon broke in, “you would be wise to say them now. I’d rather we knew where we stood with you than have you suddenly go rogue and betray us.”
    Esshill looked up sharply. “I’m no traitor,” he snapped. “Never to my Kingdom, and only to my clan when they moved without me. For his part, I have no choice but to respectAvall for doing everything he could for my bond-brother. But you must be aware that Rrath’s in danger in there. He knows as much about the gems as anyone, and that information is valuable. Unconscious, he’s safe. But they’ll want to revive him, and since he’s already betrayed them, they’ll have no reason to go easy on him. Which is why I pray every moment that he doesn’t revive.”
    “So do we,” Vorinn agreed.
    “Is there—I don’t suppose there’s any chance that he got out when Avall did, or as part of that?”
    Vorinn shook his head, grateful that he didn’t have to explain about jumping—and that Esshill