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"My lord, I protest," the stranger replied, irony thick in his tone
as he spread his empty hands. "I am simply choosing to provide my services to
someone who would appreciate them. The choice is simple, or so it seems to me.
I can choose to serve you, live, and most likely prosper or I can oppose you
with the rest, and die, as the old ones did long ago. My name, by the way, is
Garen Harselm."
"You interest me," Dyran said, and gestured at one of the stools on
the other side of the table. "Do sit down. Now, what exactly are
these'services' you offer, Garen?"
Garen hooked one of the stools neatly with his foot, and drew it to
him before settling himself onto it. If he was disappointed at not being
called "Lord" Garen, he did not show it. "First, I offer my services as a
wizard. You, of course, are an acknowledged master of elven magics but I can
provide you with the other half of the equation. The wizard-powers. The
ability to know what your enemies are thinking to know what they are doing to
move objects without needing to cast a spell "
"Enough, Garen, I know what wizards are capable of," Dyran said with
a trace of impatience. "I also know that not all wizards are equally able in
all aspects of those powers."
Garen shrugged. "I can't expect you to believe me when I tell you
that I am as much a master of my magics as you are of yours. I shall, of
course, prove that to you in time. But I can offer you two more things that
I think are of great import to you." He held up one finger. "The
location of the wizards' stronghold." He held up the second finger. "The
location of your son and heir."
Only years of self-control and the suspicion that the wizard was
going to say that he knew where Valyn was kept Dyran from betraying himself.
"And just what are you asking in return for all this?" he asked
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smoothly, raising a long, elegant eyebrow.
Garen spread his hands. "Simple enough, my lord. The opportunity to
serve you. After all, isn't it better to live in service than to die in
dubious freedom?"
"Indeed," Dyran replied, smiling. "So just where is this stronghold?"
Dyran waited, still smiling, while Triana, Cheynar, Berenel, and the
rest seated themselves. Triana alone looked unruffled but then, she was a
creature of the night, and had probably been awake when his summons arrived.
"My lords," he said, "and lady. Permit me to thank you for answering my call
to assemble this evening." He smiled a little more as Berenel stifled a yawn.
"I know it is late, but I think, Lord Berenel, you will find it was worth
breaking your rest to come."
"It had damn well better be," Berenel grumbled, wrapping his cloak
about himself. "This is the third night in a row thatsomething's rousted me
out of my bed."
"It should be the last, my lord," Dyran replied with a friendly
nod.And you can go back to your dragon-chasing, my lord while I go on to
overlordship of the entire Council. "I have had a most unusual visitor
tonight," he continued. "A wizard."
He chuckled at the swift intake of breath from Triana and Cheynar.
"Yes, that is correct. A halfblood. He offered me the location of the wizards'
stronghold and his own services. An offer that would be extremely difficult to
turn down, wouldn't you say?"
"In exchange for what?" Berenel demanded sharply. "And how do you
know he wasn't lying?"
"In exchange for his safety, and my protection and of course, I don't
know that he was telling the truth. He could easily have been lying, both when
he told me freely, and when I burned his hands off." Dyran steepled his hands
before his chin, thoughtfully. "It is possible of course. But I rather think
he was telling the truth both times. And I don't think he was tampering with
my mind Ihave had dealings with wizards before, you know, and pain completely
destroys any control they have over their powers."
"Where is he now?" Triana asked uneasily, Dyran thought. He regarded
her askance for a moment. There was something going on there. When this was
over, he would have to see to the Lady, perhaps. She was hiding something&
He nodded at the pile of ash a slave was sweeping up. "He'd outlived
his usefulness." At Triana's frown he pointed an admonitory finger at her.
"You are very young, my lady. I take it that you disapprove of my promising
this renegade safety, then disposing of him."
Triana nodded slightly, reluctantly, as if she had not wanted to
admit to that disapproval.
"Firstly, I never offered him safety," Dyran told her. "He assumed
it. And secondly, a man who has betrayed his friends, his own kind, isnever to
be trusted and a wizard, a halfblood, triply so. Anyone who turns traitor once
will do so again, when the stars turn in favor of a new master. Remember that,
my lady. Halfbloods are treacherous by nature, and become more so with every
passing year they add to their age. Like a one-horn, they willalways turn on
their masters."
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"For once, Dyran, I agree with you," Berenel said emphatically. "So
where is this'stronghold' of theirs, and what are we going to do about it?"
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