Read Online The Raven Ring by Patricia C. Wrede - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia C. Wrede
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Maggen said, looking nervously at Eleret.
“Then perhaps you should have been more formal,” Eleret said.
“Look, I don’t want—”
The third man cleared his throat and glanced meaningfully from Maggen to the inner door. Maggen broke off in mid-sentence. Eleret suppressed both a relieved smile and a strong desire to pace, wondering how much longer the tall man would take.
The inner door opened. “The Commander will see you, Freelady Salven,” the tall man said. He gestured her inside and closed the door behind her.
THREE
C OMMANDER W EZIRAL WAS A small, gray-haired man who radiated a cheerful energy that Eleret found immensely appealing. He sat behind a barricade of shelves, books, boxes, and crates that seemed to be taking over the entire office. Dusty sunlight fell through a high, narrow window slit behind him, accompanied by the unmistakable sounds of someone directing an exercise drill outside.
“You’re Eleret Salven?” the Commander said as the door closed. “Sit down, sit down, you’ll give me a crick in my neck if I have to keep looking up at you.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Eleret said. She selected the only one of the plain wooden chairs that did not have books and papers stacked on it and seated herself. She looked up to find herself gazing into the shrewdest pair of eyes she had seen since her grandfather had been killed in a Syaski raid.
“Tell me why you’re here,” the Commander said.
“To pick up my mother’s things. She was in the Imperial Guard; her name was Tamm Salven. She died at—” What was it Gralith had said? “—at Kesandir, about six weeks ago. Adept Climeral said I was to speak to you.”
“I know all that,” Weziral said impatiently. “I mean, why did you, yourself, come to Ciaron?”
“Pa was hurt, and Nilly and Jiv are too young,” Eleret said, surprised by the question.
The Commander made an irritated noise. “It’s a long, hard trip. We could have sent your mother’s things. So why did you come?”
Eleret shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been right to let someone else bring them home, once we knew. Ma wouldn’t…wouldn’t have liked it.” Her eyes prickled, remembering.
There was a brief silence, then Weziral said gently, “You’re very like her.”
“Thank you,” Eleret managed. She took a deep, shaky breath. “May I have her things now?”
“In a moment. There are some facts you should know first; frankly, I thought you’d gotten wind of them somehow, and that was why you’d come.”
Eleret tensed. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mother’s death. I’m not satisfied with the reports I’ve gotten. Tamm Salven was seriously wounded, but she shouldn’t have died of it.” Weziral’s face hardened briefly. “I don’t like losing good officers. I especially don’t like it when there’s no reason for it to happen.”
“No reason?” Eleret blinked. “What do you mean? Gralith didn’t know the details, but we thought—we thought that she died of her wounds, or perhaps that one of them went bad. Even little ones do, sometimes.” All the way to Ciaron, she had been trying not to examine that last possibility too closely. When she was eleven, she had worked with the healers after the Battle of Kilimar Pass, and she had vivid memories of the puffy, oozing wounds, the smothered moans, and the stench. She didn’t want to have to picture her mother in the place of those she had helped tend.
“It wasn’t wound-fever,” Weziral said. “And the healers tell me she was beginning to mend.”
“Then how did she die?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be tacking across the harbor like this,” Weziral said dryly. “All I know is that Salven died unexpectedly in the night, four days after the fight at Kesandir, under the care of one of the best healers I have in the field, of clean wounds that had begun to close.”
“You think someone murdered her.”
“I think the whole thing smells worse than haddock that’s
“Then perhaps you should have been more formal,” Eleret said.
“Look, I don’t want—”
The third man cleared his throat and glanced meaningfully from Maggen to the inner door. Maggen broke off in mid-sentence. Eleret suppressed both a relieved smile and a strong desire to pace, wondering how much longer the tall man would take.
The inner door opened. “The Commander will see you, Freelady Salven,” the tall man said. He gestured her inside and closed the door behind her.
THREE
C OMMANDER W EZIRAL WAS A small, gray-haired man who radiated a cheerful energy that Eleret found immensely appealing. He sat behind a barricade of shelves, books, boxes, and crates that seemed to be taking over the entire office. Dusty sunlight fell through a high, narrow window slit behind him, accompanied by the unmistakable sounds of someone directing an exercise drill outside.
“You’re Eleret Salven?” the Commander said as the door closed. “Sit down, sit down, you’ll give me a crick in my neck if I have to keep looking up at you.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Eleret said. She selected the only one of the plain wooden chairs that did not have books and papers stacked on it and seated herself. She looked up to find herself gazing into the shrewdest pair of eyes she had seen since her grandfather had been killed in a Syaski raid.
“Tell me why you’re here,” the Commander said.
“To pick up my mother’s things. She was in the Imperial Guard; her name was Tamm Salven. She died at—” What was it Gralith had said? “—at Kesandir, about six weeks ago. Adept Climeral said I was to speak to you.”
“I know all that,” Weziral said impatiently. “I mean, why did you, yourself, come to Ciaron?”
“Pa was hurt, and Nilly and Jiv are too young,” Eleret said, surprised by the question.
The Commander made an irritated noise. “It’s a long, hard trip. We could have sent your mother’s things. So why did you come?”
Eleret shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been right to let someone else bring them home, once we knew. Ma wouldn’t…wouldn’t have liked it.” Her eyes prickled, remembering.
There was a brief silence, then Weziral said gently, “You’re very like her.”
“Thank you,” Eleret managed. She took a deep, shaky breath. “May I have her things now?”
“In a moment. There are some facts you should know first; frankly, I thought you’d gotten wind of them somehow, and that was why you’d come.”
Eleret tensed. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mother’s death. I’m not satisfied with the reports I’ve gotten. Tamm Salven was seriously wounded, but she shouldn’t have died of it.” Weziral’s face hardened briefly. “I don’t like losing good officers. I especially don’t like it when there’s no reason for it to happen.”
“No reason?” Eleret blinked. “What do you mean? Gralith didn’t know the details, but we thought—we thought that she died of her wounds, or perhaps that one of them went bad. Even little ones do, sometimes.” All the way to Ciaron, she had been trying not to examine that last possibility too closely. When she was eleven, she had worked with the healers after the Battle of Kilimar Pass, and she had vivid memories of the puffy, oozing wounds, the smothered moans, and the stench. She didn’t want to have to picture her mother in the place of those she had helped tend.
“It wasn’t wound-fever,” Weziral said. “And the healers tell me she was beginning to mend.”
“Then how did she die?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be tacking across the harbor like this,” Weziral said dryly. “All I know is that Salven died unexpectedly in the night, four days after the fight at Kesandir, under the care of one of the best healers I have in the field, of clean wounds that had begun to close.”
“You think someone murdered her.”
“I think the whole thing smells worse than haddock that’s
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