Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html "The Benaiat will meet you in the center court. He's a little tired." Her voice was low, as if the words were meant only for Megan. They walked through the arcades to the courtyard gardens, simple stone and tile and fresh flowers; spring was well along here. Traveling south down the river was like leaving winter, cold and dark, to sail into summer; last time they had been here it had been fall, and they'd sailed into winter. Shkai'ra's eyes appraised all.Still looking at everything as if she were about to sack and burn it , Megan thought.I'll train her out of that yet . Benaiat Ivahn was leaning on the edge of one of the lesser pools; looking up, he rose to meet them, smiling.Stevahn's right , Megan thought.He is looking tired. Nonsense, he's looking the same as ever, three years older than the Goddess. Like a child when he smiles, except all wrinkles . The other monks withdrew. "Megan Whitlock," the old man said, clasping her hands, then Shkai'ra's. "It was a grief to me that I could not attend your wedding. Your other wife and your husband are not with you on this journey?" They strolled along the colonnade, the pair matching their pace to the old man's. He moved as smoothly as he ever did, but more slowly. "No," she answered. "But we drank some of that case of Saekrberk liqueur you sent. In the glass loving-cups." "They were beautiful," Shkai'ra said. "They reminded me of this place."Three years, we've been together , Megan thought,and she still surprises me . No doubt Ivahn was surprised, too; but he'd had a great deal of practice in hiding what he thought. They came to the door of his office, ancient oak, almost black, hinges silent as it swung open. Benaiats from time out of mind had used this office.Strange to think of anyone but Ivahn being Benaiat; he has been since long before I was born . He was three times Megan's age. Seventy-five.What will I be like at that age? Stupid question. If I keep using the manrauqas much as I have lately, I won't die old. Shkai'ra isn't likely to die old either, unless we really dosettle down after this . The office was in the outer part of the Benaiat; the view extended down to the docks and across the river to Brahvniki, back toward the woods and fields as well. The room was very plain, but not stark. Some monasteries of the Honey-Giving Bear seemed to worship austerity, but Ivahn had always said its purpose was to free one of distractions, not be held sacred for its own sake. He had bookshelves and desk and chairs, a row of large books on pegs; the symbol on the wall was his own handiwork, the colors still bright against whitewash. A warm breeze blew off the sea and in through the narrow windows. This summer is going to be very hot, droughts in some places . As Megan and Ivahn gave each other the formal hug, she felt it: he was paper-thin, skin over ribs like tent-canvas, his grip more like a spider's than a bear's. He settled into his chair by the desk, sighing, motioned them to sit. His face had always been thin like a fox's; now the fox was a starving one, hollow-cheeked. Was he ill? But he smiled again, making it all seem imaginary. A monk brought a tray with a bottle of Saekrberk and glasses, setting them out on the desk with a bow. "Koru-kai," Ivahn said, lifting his tiny glass. "To your health," Megan said, hearing more meaning in it than she'd intended. He nodded, and the Saekrberk burned its way across her tongue. "I share the salt," he said, the ritual words signalling it was time to get down to business; they were too close to take any longer with small-talk. "And I with you," she answered.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html "Glad that's over with, it's stiff and stifling, like the robes," he said. "Well, Megan. Just what sort of advice did you want?" Megan put down her cup, met his eyes. "We're considering joining the Yeoli army to get into Arko." "The Yeoli army, to get into Arko." He didn't have to ask why. He steepled his fingers, lined brows creasing. "Hmm." "We heard last night they crossed their border to march on Arko. What do you think of their chances?" "Of conquering the Empire? Better than one would expect. Who would have thought they'd win back so far, when they had nothing left unoccupied but a few mountains? They have their alliances, with Astalaz of Laka, Kranaj of Tor Ench and Segiddis of Hyerne. When it becomes apparent, they'll have every mercenary, loot-luster, and soul just plain angry at Arko that they care to join them. And they have Chevenga. When they advertise in town, it's for half the pay they offered at first, and goes down every day. Soon people will join them for nothing but a prospect of Arkan city plunder." "It's not the money I care about." "Oh, I didn't think so,bylashka; I'm only making the point of their perceived chances, of which the price is an indicator."Bylashka , she thought.Well, I guess I am a child, to him . " 'And they have Chevenga,' he said cryptically," she mimicked. "I am rapidly getting the impression this person's bottom is dipped in gold. You never praise anyone, Ivahn. All I knew before was, he was king of Yeola-e, and dead—" "It's not king, it'sse-ma-na-kra-se-ye … if you're going to deal with him, you ought to know that, they're touchy about it." A smile crept across the wrinkled face, wrinkled mostly with smiling. "He's alive." She raised an eyebrow at him, as Shkai'ra chuckled. "I'd gathered that. But how good is he, really? Another Osgaerth, maybe, who the Thanish oligarchy kicked into war just to be rid of?" "Somehow I can't imagine Fourth Chevenga being kicked anywhere," he said. "Though he has been. In all honesty, I should admit my bias: he's a friend. I first met him when he was fifteen. Just between the three of us, I got him drunk and we went to the Knotted Worm in disguise, to hear about ourselves. Poor lad, I had to give him a dose of extract of Halya to get him through all his official functions the next day."… "The Great Bear knows how little I know of war; I'm not much of a judge of fighters or commanders. But all who are seem to agree he is brilliant as both. He even hasmanrauq; a sense for weapons, which has stood him in very good stead. If he has any fault it's recklessness, but he's willing to learn from his mistakes, and is a quick study. A sample of the epithets his army has given him: the Invincible (that's the most common), the Immortal, the Infallible, the Imperturbable, another Curlion…" "AnotherCurlion ?" Megan said, brows shooting up. "What's a Curlion?" asked Shkai'ra. "Oh, just the man who carved out Iyesi, the first Empire after the Fire, merely the greatest general in history," Megan answered. "I guess this one's bottom reallyis dipped in gold."
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