Free The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

drawbridge alongside Yulko Bihn’s. It only took her a moment to recognize the red, semi-mythical, stag-headed sphinx on a silver field. “Oh, zlatz,” she burst out, and felt her cheeks grow rosy at her use of such a vulgarity. “That’s a xanji, red on silver. This is Bontis’ Luck!”
    “Duzna?” Rimdoch Ruch sat up straight on his horse, his sulks banished by her exclamation. “Is something the matter?”
    “I think something may be,” Erianthee said tightly.
    “At the Castle?” Rimdoch asked, moving his horse a bit closer to hers. “What is it?”
    Erianthee set her jaw, and then cried out, “The xanji is Kloveon’s device. What is he doing here?” She flung her hand at the new visitor’s flag. “Kloveon!”
    “Of Fauthsku?” Rimdoch asked, impressed in spite of himself.
    “Well, that’s his flag, so he, or his messenger, is here,” said Erianthee, more brusquely than was her habit, her annoyance increasing to edginess. “This is just like him! It’s bad enough that Doms Guyon is in Valdihovee, but to have Kloveon . . . “ She could find no words to finish her sentiments, for she had a sudden thought that Yulko Bihn’s presence might be more than an occasion to disparage Nimuar; it could be that Bihn was working spells designed to perturb the whole household: she wouldn’t blame Kloveon – not yet, but she would be more alert to his behavior. If he tried anything against Nimuar, she would be ready.
    “He’ll have an escort, won’t he?” Rimdoch asked, his expression brightening. “He’ll have at least four men accompanying him, don’t you think?”
    “Kloveon, you mean?” Erianthee swung around in her saddle. “I won’t have you fleecing every man who comes to Vildecaz Castle.”
    “Oh, I won’t,” said Rimdoch, adding slyly, “Not every man.”
    “Rimdoch Ruch!” Erianthee made his name a chastisement.
    “All right. All right.” He was dangerously near pouting as they crossed the drawbridge over the narrow chasm of Hevomaj Stream, said to be the sweat of the god of the Valdishan Escarpment; today that possibility seemed more likely than usual, for the water ran high and urgently, indicating there had been rain farther up the mountains.
    “Are you planning to do anything before the banquet?” Erianthee asked as she and Rimdoch turned their mounts toward the stable.
    “Aside from change clothes and assist my father and brothers in setting up the Great Hall? No, I don’t think so. Unless there is something you wish me to do?” He beamed at her with patently false good-will. “Otherwise I will attend my father and brothers – for an hour or so.”
    She paid no attention to his impertinence. “Then you will be able to find General Rocazin and tell her who will be entertaining at the banquet. I must go prepare.”
    “All right,” said Rimdoch, now growing curious.
    “And remind Burinar that he will have to go down to Valdihovee to bring our entertainers to the castle, preferably just after mid-day.”
    “Yes, my Duzna,” said Rimdoch dutifully.
    Erianthee handed her reins to the nearest groom, and called after Rimdoch, who was striding off toward his father’s house set against the inner wall, “Do not fail me, Rimdoch Ruch.”
    The youth paused long enough to make the suggestion of a respect and continued on his way, starting to whistle as he went.
    Watching him go, Erianthee had to stop herself from adding to her instructions to him. “He will do his duty,” she said to herself, and tried to believe it; she went toward the eastern entrance to the keep, where she found Ver Mindicaz in the open doorway of the reserve pantry, taking stock of what she had on hand. “Is there a problem, Major-Cook?”
    Ver jumped visibly as she caught sight of Erianthee. “Ah!” she exclaimed, putting her hand to her throat. “Zlatz – pardon me, Duzna.”
    “Of course,” said Erianthee. “What troubles you?”
    Giving an exasperated little sigh, Ver planted her hands on