The Vacant Throne - Ed Greenwood [30]
"Tell us who that might be," Daragus growled, "for if he's truly a trustworthy courtier, he's the first!"
Belklarravus almost shouted in fury at the interruption, but the urge passed in an instant, and he found himself glad of the moments of dry chuckles around the table that let him regain some calm.
When silence had fallen once more, he gave them all a thin-lipped smile and began again. "I've discovered from a source at court whose words I've learned to trust that the king is going to restore the barony of Brightpennant, stripping Sart and Gilth of our standing as independent towns."
"Towns that would lose their tersepts," Telabras murmured. "Wherefore you are determined to prevent this at all costs."
"I-exactly," the Lord of Sart sputtered, finding the words he'd just been about to say spoken for him. "Gentlesirs, the Vale must be rid of the Risen King!"
Excitement made his words rise into what was almost a shout, and they rang back echoes from the decanters as his guests sat silent, nodding, before Phelodiir of Sirlptar said mildly, "Well, that's certainly an aim clear enough to keep us from charges of 'sly intrigue.' If we're to talk treason, we'd best have something useful to say; 'twould be a pity to be drawn boneless and spitted in the sun to die for empty words."
"Then let us be done with empty courtesies and disputes both," Daragus said fiercely, "and speak! Let us begin thus: the rise of an Aglirta ruled by a strong king can't help but be a real threat to the present prosperity and independence of all of us. Agreed?"
There were nods around the table. The Tersept of Sart opened his mouth to take control of the converse once more, but the Factor of Gilth snapped, "A moment more, my Lord. Before we begin the wild scheming, let us consider the players in this game. Barons and tersepts up and down the Vale sit in the same chairs we do: hating to give up their sway and the swords who obey them, and not quite daring to openly say so or defy Flowfoam. All of them are waiting for a chance to somehow come that will free them of having to submit to Snowsar; if we give them one, they'll take it."
"And plunge the Vale back into bloodshed," Telabras muttered.
"Undoubtedly," Daragus said quickly, "but let us not stray down such ways yet. The other traditional players are the wizards, who are of three sorts: those too puny to matter, those not strong enough to stand alone and so standing beside this baron or that tersept, and the few of real power who survived the slaying spells of Silvertree's Dark Three."
"Those would be Tharlorn of the Thunders and Bodemmon Sarr," the Lord of Sart put in, "plus Embra Silvertree and any of the Three who yet live."
"Oh, but-" Carthel began to protest, but was interrupted by the Factor of Gilth.
"Grant that one or more of them may still live," Daragus said fiercely, "and consider with them any outlander or other hidden mage who might stand forth, and move on to the players we're not so used to: the Serpent-folk and the Faceless."
"More empty legend!" Phelodiir spat. "Now who's dealing in fireside tales?"
The Factor of Gilth gave the man in green silks a cold look. "Consider, then, any who wield a Dwaer-Stone, whether they be Koglaur or not, to stand as this last group of players. Consider also that we know not the real powers of the Dwaerindim, but that they're quite possibly great enough to win the realm for whoever can wield most of them."
"Seize Aglirta with an enchanted stone one can hold in one's hand?" the Lord of Sart scoffed. "Hold back a little harder on your drinking now, Daragus!"
"Reports out of Indraevyn," the Factor of Gilth snapped, "vary wildly, but all agree that buildings were shattered and wizards-several at least-slain in the time it takes a man to draw a few breaths. Wizards with spells to defend themselves, standing ready in known danger, mind. Now see such a Stone in the hand of a man placed where he can blast an army on a road, or a wizard caught unawares… hmm?"
"You talk sense,"