Intrigues (30 page)

"That was something you needed to be told, but don't let it disturb you unduly," Syant said, pausing on his way to the door to turn back to Zirdon. "You have a good deal to gain by … cooperating with me, so let your thoughts dwell on
that
truth. If you behave in the way I require of you, you need have no fear of losing even more. Don't forget to tell your people to admit me at once when I return. They still think of me as an Exalted One, but they'll soon learn better and I don't want to be kept waiting on your doorstep. Do you understand?"

"How could I fail to understand?" Zirdon growled in his thoughts before nodding stiffly in answer to the question. Syant was hardly likely to be pleased with even that small a rebellion, and antagonizing the man would be foolish.

"Good," Syant said with a nod, almost nothing left of his smile. "If you support me faithfully in this, we'll both benefit tremendously. Keep to that thought, and everything will be just fine."

Syant nodded before going the rest of the way to the door, and a moment later he was gone. Zirdon sat back and reached for the teacup he couldn't remember having put down, his thoughts in a whirlwind of confusion. He seemed to be trapped into helping Syant whether he wanted to or not, and the vast benefits he expected to reap were already looking more dangerous to obtain than he cared for.

But he'd been given very little choice in the matter. Zirdon sipped the now-cool tea as he racked his brain for a way out of the mess, but there didn't seem to be one. If he didn't go along with Syant,
he
could end up just as maimed as the stupid little fat man.

A shudder passed through Zirdon at that realization, and he gulped down the rest of the tea and then rose shakily to refill his cup. There was no sense in being nervous, not when there was nothing anyone could do to change the situation, but his mind seemed reluctant to accept that comfortable truth at least for the moment. Later it would hopefully be different, but right now Zirdon had to hold his cup with both hands to keep from spilling the tea on himself…

* * *

Ebro Syant let his hired coach carry him away from Zirdon Tal's house and back toward where he'd left his own coach. As soon as the vehicle began to move, Ebro leaned back and made himself as comfortable as possible. It wasn't likely that he would ever be completely comfortable again, most especially not with Tal being the only tool he could use to exact his vengeance. The man did know how to play cool and innocent, even in the face of evidence proving his guilt, but that didn't make him any less of a fool.

Without stopping to think about it, Ebro tried to touch the horses pulling the coach in an effort to make them move a bit faster. He
was
in a hurry, but asking the driver to pick up the pace would do too much to make the man remember him - and where he'd been taken. It took a moment or two of nothing happening to remind Ebro that his talent was gone, and the stab of pain and rage he felt was almost too sharp to control. But he
had
to control himself, so he quickly turned his mind to something else.

Yes, Zirdon Tal was a fool, all right, even more so than Ebro had expected him to be. If
he
had been in Tal's place, doing away with someone threatening him would have been his first thought. Ebro had been waiting for a sign to show that the idea had occurred to Tal, but nothing of the sort had appeared. That was why
he
had mentioned the point, to keep Tal from later thinking of it on his own and acting before considering the matter carefully. Tal was an idiot as well as a fool, and dealing with idiots was extremely dangerous.

But Ebro had been given no choice, and possibly the matter would turn out to be much safer than he expected. Again, if he'd been in Tal's place, he would have used his Blending to find out who that damning document had been left with. He would then have given Tal instructions to retrieve the document, made certain that no others existed once it was, and then it would have been completely safe to make his attempted blackmailer simply disappear.

And, in this case, Tal would have discovered that there
was
no written accusation against him. Ebro had seen no reason to bother with something that could be retrieved so easily, but now there was every reason to go through with it. If the idiot ever forced himself to use his Blending the effort of writing an accusation would end up wasted, but the fool's talent was Fire magic, not Earth magic. He could never silence his Blending the way Ebro had done, and so would probably end up compromised anyway.

The street was filled with far too many people to suit Ebro, but there was nothing he could do about it beyond moving to the middle of the coach seat. That would make him more difficult to notice without also making it look as if he were hiding, the necessary balance now required. And it would just be for a handful of minutes more. They were almost to the eating parlor where Ebro had asked to be taken.

Once the coach reached the eating parlor, Ebro paid off the driver and then entered the parlor. He had no intention of stopping for a full meal, not now when his appetite had been destroyed along with his talent. But he did need to be inside the parlor until the hired coach was no longer in the area, something that should be accomplished rather quickly. Ebro ordered a cup of tea and a slice of sugar loaf, nibbled at the cake for appearance sake, but finished the tea completely. That fool hadn't even thought to offer refreshment…

Ebro paid his bill and walked outside slowly, having made sure that two or three groups of people had left before him. It was highly unlikely that none of the three groups would require a coach, and the consideration turned out to be so. The coach he'd hired was nowhere in sight, which let him walk around the block to where he'd left his own coach.

His driver sat waiting patiently, just the way he was supposed to have done. Ebro told the man to take him home, then he climbed into the coach. The seats were much more comfortable than the ones in the hired coach, and Ebro leaned back near the right-hand window as the driver began to obey him. Ebro hadn't yet returned home this morning, finding it easier to think while the coach took him all over the city. His thinking had been extremely productive, but now it was time to return to his home. That would let him continue his thinking in much more comfortable surroundings.

It wasn't long before the coach pulled into the drive of his house, but the sight of the goings-on there pulled Ebro out of his reverie immediately. The servants were carrying out various boxes and setting them near the drive, just as if the boxes contained trash for pickup and burning. But the house didn't
have
that much trash, not when he couldn't abide clutter…

"What
is
all this?" Ebro demanded once the coach had stopped near the boxes, gaining the attention of two of the servants. "Have you fools been saving up trash rather than moving your lazy hides when it was time to put it out? If so, you won't find me in the least pleased."

"Why would we care whether or not
you
were pleased?" one of the servants, a man named Frarin, asked with an actual sneer. "You don't live here any longer, and these are your personal belongings. I'm supposed to tell you that you can use the coach one more time to move these things to wherever you'll be living, but after that you're on your own."

Ebro froze in the act of opening the coach door, fighting not to show how devastated he felt. It hadn't really come through to him that he was no longer a member of the assembly even though no one had said so in so many words. He was also no longer the major talent of a Blending, and the house belonged to whoever was chosen to take his former place.

Tears tried to well up in Ebro's eyes as he closed the coach door and sat back again, but he refused to give
anyone
the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he'd been touched. They could have waited at least one day to throw him out of the place he'd called home for so long, but he was no longer of any consequence so they
hadn't
waited. He now had to find some place to live, a task he'd need a decent amount of gold for. But if they'd taken back his house, they'd surely cut him off from the funds that used to be his by right…

Ebro sat stiffly and watched the very few boxes being loaded onto the coach. Those boxes couldn't possibly hold anything beyond some of his clothing and a handful of personal possessions, which obviously didn't include any of the artwork and beautiful accessories he'd bought for the house. Those would stay
with
the house, while he -

A burning lump blocked Ebro's throat, but it didn't stop him from thinking. He didn't yet know where he
would
go, but it certainly would
not
be Tal's house. Tal was his secret weapon, the tool Ebro would use to destroy those who had hurt him so badly. It would happen, Ebro swore to himself, it would happen even if vengeance was the last thing he accomplished!

Chapter 17

Honrita Grohl stood third in one of the lines at the new "office," a place that was really a newly opened shop that sold nothing. Even at that early an hour there were quite a few other people in line, people who, like Honrita, were eager to have their talents trained. And after the training, maybe even finding a Blending to be part of…

Honrita felt a shiver go through her that was half delight and half fear. She had always wanted to
do
something with her talent, but for every moment of her twenty-nine years people had told her how bad using talent was. She'd listened to them, of course, her nature allowed her to do nothing else, but she'd always felt … incomplete, somehow. But now things had changed in a way she'd only dreamt about…

"Name and aspect, please," a voice said, and Honrita came back to where she stood to find that she was now at the head of the line. The man seated behind the table smiled at her encouragingly, but she couldn't keep her answering smile from being tremulous.

"My name is Honrita Grohl and my aspect is Spirit magic," Honrita replied in a whispered rush as her fingers pulled at one another. "Even if I have to wait, I'd still like to be in one of the classes."

"As early as you've gotten here, you'll probably be in one of the first classes," the man said after writing on the paper in front of him. "Are you free during the day, or do you need one of the evening classes?"

"Oh, no, I can't attend during the day!" Honrita protested, her insides in a sudden flurry. "I work during the day as a seamstress, but did you say something about evening classes?"

"Yes, there are evening classes for those who have to work," the man told her in a kindly way. "Is there anything to keep you from starting
this
evening?"

"No, there's nothing to keep me from starting tonight," Honrita answered, her emotions trying to surge out of her control. "Where do I go, and how much will it cost?"

"You report back here at six tonight, and it won't cost you anything," the man responded with a wide smile, probably because Honrita had started to glow. "We're using the gold left behind by the nobility to pay for these classes, which is only fair. After all, they're the ones who kept people from using their abilities for so long. Take this paper and go over to the side of the room, where people are waiting under the signs of the different aspects. Go to the Spirit magic sign, and the people there will tell you how strong or weak your talent is. But don't worry if you're considered weak. You'll still be trained as far as possible."

"Thank you," Honrita whispered, taking the paper the man had written on and turning to her right. It was all she could do not to clutch the paper as she walked to the line with the sign of Spirit magic above the two people sitting there, and she felt somewhat hesitant. No one else stood in line there, so she would have to be first…

"Good morning," the man sitting there said with a smile, and the woman beside him smiled as well. "I think that paper is supposed to be given to me."

"Oh, yes, of course," Honrita said quickly, feeling a bit foolish as she handed over the paper. She also felt less nervous, which was a true blessing.

"You'll have to open to the power if we're to rate your strength," the woman told her in a kindly way. "Don't be afraid, it's perfectly legal now and in fact required."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm so foolish today," Honrita apologized with a small laugh. "Of course I have to open to the power. I'll do it now."

After all those years of being told not to, opening to the power really was something of a chore. But Honrita did it anyway, and was immediately startled. Most of the people in the shop - office - were at least as nervous as she was, and some were in worse case. But the two people sitting behind this new table weren't nervous, they were as pleasant and friendly as they appeared. And for some reason they also seemed impressed.

"Well, that's a pleasant surprise," the man said, looking up at her from where he sat. "She's a good, strong Middle talent."

"More than that, she's a third level Middle talent," the woman said with brows high. "That means you're the strongest a Middle talent can be, dear. How did you keep from being sent with other strong Middles to fight in the army?"

"Oh, no one ever really looks at me twice," Honrita said, a truth that wasn't as painful as she usually found it to be. "A noble came once and talked to me for a moment or two, and then he went away and didn't come back… But
I'm
not all that strong, not compared to
him
…"

By then Honrita stood with her mouth open, staring at the man. His talent … towered above hers, so wide and deep and strong that Honrita felt powerless beside him. How could her meager efforts possibly compare to
that
…

"No, now, you can't compare yourself to
me
," the man said quickly, and Honrita felt herself being calmed. "I'm not only a High talent, I've been through training as well. Once you finish your training - with other Middle talents - you'll have a truer picture of relative strengths. You'll probably find that you're stronger than most of the people around you, so you
will
try to not let that go to your head, won't you?"