Deceptive Oracle

By Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

Duez Nimuar is missing and his two talented daughters are determined to find him, Erianthee through her magical Puppet Shows. Ninianee through her close knowledge of animals.

Both sisters are accompanied by their declared suitors. Kloveon with Erinathee and Doms Guyon with Ninianee; what each discovers in her own way makes it clear that there is more to their father's disappearance than anyone expected.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
• Release date: Feb 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311033062

Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

Chelsea Q. Yarbro is the first woman to be named a Living Legend by the International Horror Guild and is one of only two women ever to be named as Grand Master of the World Horror Convention (2003). In 1995, Yarbro was the only novelist guest of the Romanian government for the First World Dracula Congress, sponsored by the Transylvanian Society of Dracula, the Romanian Bureau of Tourism, and the Romanian Ministry of Culture. Yarbro is best known as the creator of the heroic vampire the Count Saint-Germain. With her creation of Saint-Germain, she delved into history and vampiric literature and subverted the standard myth to invent the first vampire who was more honorable, humane, and heroic than most of the humans around him. She fully meshed the vampire with romance and accurately detailed historical fiction, and filtered it through a feminist perspective that made both the giving of sustenance and its taking of equal erotic potency. A professional writer since 1968, Yarbro has worked in a wide variety of genres, from science fiction to Westerns, from young adult adventure to historical horror. A skeptical occultist for forty years, Yarbro has studied everything from alchemy to zoomancy, and in the late 1970s worked occasionally as a professional tarot card reader and palmist at the Magic Cellar in San Francisco.

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The Deceptive Oracle

Duez Nimuar is missing and his two talented daughters are determined to find him, Erianthee through her magical Puppet Shows. Ninianee through her close knowledge of animals.

Both sisters are accompanied by their declared suitors. Kloveon with Erinathee and Doms Guyon with Ninianee; what each discovers in her own way makes it clear that there is more to their father's disappearance than anyone expected.

Deceptive Oracle

Copyright © 2007 Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

Published by Avalerion Books, Inc.

Smashwords Edition

Cover design by James Abel

Stock photography by Jessica Truscott - http://faestock.deviantart.com/

Additional photography by János Zoltán Kis

All Rights Reserved

First e-book edition December 2013

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This ebook is for your personal device only. No part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincident

For

JOY

and

CHERYL

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Expectations

Chapter 2 - Arrives

Chapter 3 - Departures

Chapter 4 - Revelations

Chapter 5 - Cross-Purposes

Chapter 6 - Ramifications

Chapter 7 - Adversities

Preview of Book 3 Agnith's Promise

Glossary

About Author

More Books By Author

1.

Expectations

I don’t want to Change, Ninianee said aloud, voicing her thoughts as she stood at the window in her private apartments on the third floor of Vildecaz Castle, watching the sun dropping lower over the majestic cliffs of the Valdishan Escarpment and making the River Dej far below shine as if filled with molten silver. Tonight would be the first night of the full moon, and she would shortly have to be outside the Castle walls, or risk a discovery that was too disastrous to contemplate. She knew she had to go, but she was reluctant, afraid that she might be watched. It was such a risky business, eluding the staff and guests now that she was the sole Duzeon in the whole Duzky of Vildecaz, and the object of attention and concern.

If only her younger sister, Erianthee, had not left for the capital of the Porzalk Empire to perform her Shadowshows for the Court! It had been necessary, and the two of them had accepted it, but still – Ninianee paced her chamber restlessly, trying to decide what would be the best way to leave the Castle. Erianthee had always helped Ninianee at the full moon, and it would be four months – four full moons – until Erianthee returned. In the past, when Erianthee had been away, Nimuar, their father, had, in his own way, shielded her from the kind of scrutiny she wished most to avoid. Ninianee tugged at one of the tight russet curls that framed her vixen’s face, and sighed. It was bad enough to have Erianthee gone, but to have their father missing made Ninianee feel much more exposed. His spectral manifestation during Erianthee’s last Shadowshow had served only to increase her distress. He had left no magical spoor to follow, and the Castle Magician, Heijot Merinex, was beginning to say that the manifestation had been a ruse to flummox anyone attempting to search for Duz Nimuar.

I’ve got to leave. Ninianee said it aloud for added impetus. Impulsively she opened her closet and pulled out her oldest, most worn dolaj, and a pair of threadbare brikes and tossed them in a large, leather hunting-satchel. She chose an old pair of boots and threw them in as well. Feeling marginally better prepared, she sat down on the corner of her bed and calculated how much longer it would be until sunset, as she had been doing for the last half hour. There’s no point in wasting more time, she declared to encourage herself to act. Rising, she picked up the satchel and headed toward the door, hoping against hope that she could elude Doms Guyon, her self-declared protector and suitor. The last thing she wanted now was for him to see her preparing to slip out of the Castle – he undoubtedly would try to follow her, and tonight that would never do.

Pulling the door open carefully, she muttered a spell to keep people from noticing her. No one was in the corridor. Whispering thanks to Ondirpikeon, the Cyclical, she took a deep breath and made for the side-stairs that led down to the stable-yard. As she hurried down the winding stairway, she wished – as she had done for the last nine years – that she would know before she Changed on the first night what creature she would be for this full moon. Last month she had been a Challim-doe, but that meant nothing: over the years she had been predator and prey, often unusually large or unusually small. Tonight she might be a gigantic mouse or a very small Aon-bear, or any other fur-bearing creature of the Great World, so long as she was the same weight and density that she was in her natural, human form. The possibilities were too daunting to consider with the Change so near.

Reaching the bottom step, she tugged the door open and went out into the yard. Nine horses were still out in their paddocks, and for an instant she considered taking one in order to get a good distance beyond the walls. But that could be dangerous, since she might Change into a predator who would hurt the horse. She passed along the narrow walkway between the paddocks and made for a postern gate in the inner wall. More than seeing, she could feel the approach of sunset, and that hurried her along toward the second wall.

Duzeon Ninianee, said a voice from the shadows of the second wall.

Ninianee halted. Who’s there?

Maj Dalmai, the voice answered; a heavy-shouldered man of about thirty stepped into the fading sunlight.

You’re one of the masons, aren’t you? said Ninianee.

I am.

You’re working on the repair of the outer wall, she said, thinking of the on-going project that was supposed to be completed in another few days.

We are. I was just cleaning up. I’m about to go into the Guard House. He seemed a bit puzzled. Are you safe out here on your own? Shall I send for –

Oh, yes; I’m fine, she said brightly, wanting to get away from him. I need to attend to a few minor chores in the outer pasture. The animals are still my responsibility. My talent, remember. Everyone in Vildecaz knew she had the ability to communicate with animals, which was regarded as a most useful endowment – her second, Changing talent would be seen far less favorably if it were ever known.

You’re going to see what the goats have to say, Maj said shrewdly.

The sheep, pigs, and cattle are all in for the night. The goats need to be safe. She motioned toward the part of the long plateau where the large, fenced pastures stood. I’d best be about my work. It’s later in the day than I thought.

He respected her. Duzeon.

Don’t linger on my account. She did her best not to rush away as soon as Maj Dalmai retreated into the shadows. As she hastened along the brick-paved walkway, she resisted the urge to use a spell to determine if he was still watching her. She had no wish to give him an excuse to follow her or report her presence to Hoftstan Ruch, the seneschal and pursuivant of Vildecaz Castle. Much as Ninianee liked and trusted Hoftstan, she knew he would send Guards to find her if he learned she was absent from the keep.

Four long-haired Parigoch-goats stood along the fence, watching Ninianee with curiosity, their cork-screw horns making their heads appear much longer than they were. Two flakes of hay augmented the grazing possibilities of the pasture, which had largely been eaten down to the ground. Ninianee made a mental note to herself to have the goats moved into the fallow field next to their pasture, where they could devour the weeds and brambles that had sprung up during the spring and summer. She began to run toward the stand of trees at the edge of the fields, feeling the first of her Change upon her. Putting on a burst of speed, she tugged off her gaunel, hoping to save the garment from ruin. As she reached the trees, she threw her satchel into a small hunting blind she kept there, and flung her gaunel after it. Her guin was torn as her paws struggled to take hold on the fabric, and she pulled it apart as best she could with her heavily clawed feet. She looked down at her belly and saw the distinctive black-and-white ticking of the Salah-badger, and she saw the flick of the short, silvery tail. Although these creatures were large, she was almost twice the size of most of them, and she tottered on limbs hardly able to bear the weight of her body. Moving very carefully, she waddled off toward a drift of fallen leaves, prepared to dig for grubs and worms – she could tell the badger looked forward to these victuals although she found them unappetizing – and to avoid the notice of hunters or spells in the cover of the trees until dawn. If Bandikrion the Destinizer was with her, the night would be an uneventful one, and she would return to the Castle without her absence being noted.

* * *

When they stopped for the night, Kloveon of Fauthsku, Erianthee’s escort as far as Udugan Province, insisted on raising the most luxurious of the three tents they carried in the provisions wagon, a three-chamber pavilion of dark-red Fahnine silk shot with gold thread, edged in magical sigils and with heavy carpets for flooring. Erianthee had said it was a waste of time, out here in the middle of nowhere, but Kloveon had remained adamant.

We are almost to Udugan, and we may be observed, either by men or by magic. This is a show of dignity, setting up this pavilion, and one that you should have. His concern clouded his handsome features. His sugar-brown eyes lost their glint and became hard to read. You are a Duzeon, not a Duzna, now, and you should have full distinction for that.

You just want to raise the silken tent, said Erianthee nonchalantly, to cover her increasing attraction to him. She was glad to end their travel, for her interest in Kloveon was growing as intense as his for her; she was more pleased that they had found a meadow with a stream for their night’s rest, but she said nothing of this to him.

It is better than the canvas one – warmer, more gracious, and appropriate. It is more worthy of you, the guest of the Emperor; Riast would look upon your canvas tent as a slight – he’s touchy about form, you know. He twitched a stray tendril of her honey-blonde hair back into place. In two days, I will have to give you up, and to Hajmindor Elet, of all people.

Goriach Elet is the Emperor’s archmagistrate in Udugan, Erianthee reminded him.

And I am a Mirkal, and my rank should take precedence, said Kloveon darkly. Not that that matters when Emperor Riast gives the orders. He has more trouble with Udugan than Fauthsku, so accommodates Udugan far more than Fauthsku. It’s beyond anything I can do.

This reminder of the conflicts between Udugan and Fauthsku daunted her, for she was reminded that Kloveon was as committed to Fauthsku as she was to Vildecaz, and his motives for wooing her were not free of secondary intentions. She wished she had the talent to discern truth the way Hoftstan Ruch’s wife Lumiren Koriat could. Then we must deal with what we can. Such as whether or not to raise the silk tent.

It is appropriate, Duzeon. He was as dusty as she, and as he slapped the front of his dolaj, he went on more steadily. They can set up the bath for you. The pavilion is large enough to accommodate it. There’s water enough in the stream and a spell or two should keep the water warm for a while.

I would love a bath, she admitted, and blushed, annoyed at herself for being so obvious. I think I must have dust in every part of my body. My clothes will be scoured away if we have much more dust to endure.

Think instead of mud, Kloveon suggested.

Why mud?

My body-servant –

Rakin Moricaz? Erianthee supplied.

Yes. He has a talent for weather-witching. He’s the one who’s kept the weather so clear. But he says there is a storm coming tomorrow afternoon, one he can’t shift to the north or the south. It should last two days. And then we will be in Udugan and I must depart. Suddenly he took her arms and pulled her toward him, kissing her with kindled passion. He let her go almost as suddenly as he had embraced her and took a step back from her, speaking with unusual reserve. Think about it. Wouldn’t you like to spend the storm here, in a silken tent protected by Rakin’s weather-spell? He motioned to the last raveled ribbons of sunset fading in the twilight sky. There are signs for a change. Tomorrow will not be as pleasant as today has been, no matter what Rakin does.

Trying to conceal how dazed she felt, Erianthee strove to gather her thoughts. I would, but we must be at Ganveth River in a day, and over it by the day after, mud or no mud, she reminded him, grateful for once for such mundane considerations. It would be inappropriate to keep Goriach Elet waiting only for our comfort. And to delay our separation, she added inwardly.

You’re a stickler, he said, half-teasing, half-regretful, his smile fading as soon as he produced it.

As are you, Kloveon, she said, thinking that for all his gallantry, he was determined to fulfill his commission and bring her safely to the rendezvous with Hajmindor Elet, as much for the benefit of the Emperor as for her.

As if sensing her reservations, I have my obligations – to the Emperor, to Fauthsku, and to you. My tie to you is the most profound. I have said so before, but you still continue to doubt me.

She folded her arms, taking what she hoped – impossibly – was a boyish stance, for her traveling gear was intended to conceal her identity, and she fancied she had done a good job of it. After all we have done to remain inconspicuous – simple carts and carriages, small escort, two waiting-women who also cook – don’t you think setting up a red-silk tent would be a trifle obvious?

I think that where we are it would be wise to make your presence known. He motioned to the escort – just now out of their saddles and preparing to set up a fire for their evening meal, while the wagons were drawn up together, the mules pulling them allowed to graze – Ask them, Erianthee. They’ll say the same thing. Ask Hallis ae-Perqueon.

Erianthee nodded. As all the travelers knew, Hallis ae-Perqueon, their guide, had a talent for short-term precognition that made him especially useful. A good idea. Very well. I will. With that, she trudged across the meadow to where ae-Perqueon was sharing a generous sip of Jenri-cordial dispensed from Dryach’s large flask. As head muleteer, Dryach was allowed a double-ration of strong drink and was willing to be generous.

Duzeon, said four of the men as they saw Erianthee approaching. They respected her and broke off their conversation. Three other men had struck flint-and-steel to set their lanterns ablaze, and the first golden light cast long, quivering shadows across the grass.

Ae-Perqueon, I would like a word with you, said Erianthee, making a gesture of excuse to the other men.

He stepped aside, and nodded toward one of the feather-willows, his deeply seamed face revealing no emotion as he accompanied her to the shelter of the tree. What am I to have the honor to –

Never mind all that, said Erianthee, cutting him short.

He fell silent, watching her narrowly.

Erianthee could see his reluctance and prepared to get an answer from him. Kloveon wants to pitch the silken tent and wait out a storm that Rakin Moricaz says is coming. Moricaz will shield us from the brunt of it, but he can’t turn it aside. Whether there is a storm or not, I think it would be foolish to wait here while it passes, since it would delay our meeting with Goriach Elet by at least a day. What does your talent tell you? Do we pitch the silken tent and stay, or the canvas one and depart at dawn?

Ae-Perqueon gave a long, slow sigh as he mulled the possibilities. I would recommend staying here tonight and tomorrow, Duzeon. The horses and mules could use a rest.

That was a wonderfully oblique response, said Erianthee. But if that is your recommendation, then it is what we should do.

Be sure to put a double-line on the animals tonight, said ae-Perqueon. They will be likely to fuss.

You expect some kind of trouble? Erianthee asked, her voice sharpening.

He shrugged. It is the first night of the full moon. Spells can be very strong at this time.

This mention of the full moon took Erianthee by surprise. For a moment she thought of Ninianee and hoped that her sister had been able to manage her Change without difficulty or discovery. She felt a bit ashamed that she could not have lingered to assist her through it, but that would have been an insult to the Emperor and his Court, which Ninianee would not consider. With their father missing, Vildecaz stood in danger of losing it autonomy to the Porzalk Empire, with the excuse of providing protection, and she was worried that her absence would only increase the risk to her home – Erianthee could not forget that. She needed the good-will of the Emperor for the sake of her Duzky. Recalling herself to her immediate situation, she looked up toward the darkening sky. Yes. The full moon has spells of its own beyond all others.

When Atakirath and Atazunah are one with Takzei, the Luminous Heavenly Twins, and the night is as powerful as the day, said ae-Perqueon, making the ritual sign of reverence to the goddess of the waxing and the goddess of the waning moon, and then one to Takzei, the Luminous, who ruled the moon itself. Three deities together have power that is very great.

Erianthee copied his reverence and said, Then for tonight and tomorrow night, we will remain here. She was about to move away, but hesitated. If your talent reveals something more, you will tell me, won’t you.

Certainly, Duzeon. He respected her again.

Thank you, she said, and turned on her heel to make her way back to Kloveon.

What have you decided? he asked.

We stay here, at least through tomorrow, she said.

It was an effort, but Kloveon managed not to smirk.

* * *

Under a paling sky Ninianee tottered toward the edge of the copse, her satchel clasped to her chest while the fur faded from her arms and her hands returned. Thanks to Tsampaj it had been an uneventful night, with nothing more than an exchange of snarls with a redcoon. She huddled in a bush while she scrambled into her clothes, then slung the empty satchel over her shoulder and started back toward the outer wall of the Castle. Her walk was a bit unsteady at first as she restored her balance, but gradually she regained her stride. She was soon within sight of the keep, with its rounded roofs looking like a cluster of gigantic mushrooms; by the time she reached the stable-yard, she was almost whistling.

Duzeon, said Hoftstan Ruch, emerging from his family’s quarters in the outermost ring of the keep. He offered her a profound respect. You must have gone out early.

Hoftstan, she respected him. Yes, so I did. I thought I might catch sight of the foxes that are new in the forest preserve.

And? What did you find?

Ninianee shrugged. I saw tracks but not the foxes.

Did you so? He smiled. Without a lantern?

The full moon was very bright, she said, trying to sound at ease. It wasn’t hard to see them.

No doubt, said Hoftstan, giving nothing away by inflection or demeanor. Now you’re back, Housekeeper-General Rocazin is looking for you.

Where is she? Ninianee asked, wanting to return to her regular duties as Duzeon.

In the muniment room, or she was when I saw her a short time ago. He respected her and went toward the Guard House, turning and walking backward to add, We have the visitor’s flag up that the Fahnine brought.

Very good, said Ninianee, making for the side door into the Castle so that she could clothe herself more appropriately.

And speaking of the Fahnine, Pareo wants to talk with you later this morning. I informed him that you would send him word what time suits your convenience. He made an apologetic gesture. For the sake of Zervethus Gaxamirin, I have done my best to accommodate the man as I would his master.

Fine, said Nininaee in an undervoice; she found the secretary of the Imperial Scholar Zervethus Gaxamirin off-putting, but for the time being she had to deal with him in place of his employer, Hoftstan was right about that. She wondered what he wanted of her, but set those questions aside as she went into the muniment room. General Rocazin?

The General, a tall, middle-aged woman in a handsome gaunel of blue-grey drugh-ox wool over a guin of pale Korzareon-satin, put down the leather case she was holding open and respected Ninianee. Duzeon. Thank you for coming to me so promptly.

General, said Ninianee. You wanted to see me?

I do. She glanced toward the door, then went to close it. It’s about Scholar Gaxamirin’s secretary, she said softly.

Is something the matter? Ninianee could not stop the rush of alarm she felt; it served as a confirmation that her impression of Pareo was more than a personal aversion to the man.

I don’t know. He has a smoothness that makes glimpsing the man himself almost impossible. It may be a spell, but I doubt it. She was uncharacteristically hesitant as she continued. He has asked to be allowed to inspect your father’s quarters, including his private library and his Casting Room.

Ninianee considered this quietly. I would prefer he not do that, she said at last. His master may, when and if he comes, but for now, those rooms should remain sealed with spells and locked with keys. She was surprised to hear how adamant she sounded.

But General Rocazin was nodding agreement. I shall inform him of your decision.

Thank you, General. Ninianee watched General Rocazin thoughtfully, then said, I know these are difficult times, and I am grateful to you for your steadiness and dependability during our present unsettled days. When my father returns, he will distinguish your service properly, but for now, be certain of my confidence and my gratitude. You have been a steady hand at the tiller in rough seas. I must tell you that I am eager to see our situation resolved, my father returned, and the Duzky secure once again.

Although not readily given to smiling, General Rocazin made a valiant attempt at one. Gracious as always, Duzeon. We are all making offerings to the gods for Duz Nimuar to come back to Vildecaz without delay. You and your sister have been most diligent in maintaining the Duzky in his absence, and we all honor you for it, but all this uncertainty is dangerous for Vildecaz.

I share your concern. I wish my father were safely home, too. Ninianee glanced over her shoulder. Is there anything more?

Not at present, said General Rocazin, respecting Ninianee and stepping back. I am to meet with Cook-Major Ver Mindicaz to arrange for reprovisioning the kitchen; we have run low on several foods. I will dispatch four assistants to attend the market in Valdihovee tomorrow.

"Very good. I look forward to hearing the account of the market. And I don’t limit that to the prices