Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [89]
“I take it you leave on the wings of dawn,” Salamander said.
“We do,” Rhodry said. “It’s a long ride up to Yr Auddglyn from here.”
“So it is. It saddens my heart that our paths should cross only to part again. Ah, well, mayhap we’ll meet again on the long road.”
“I’ll hope so.” Rhodry held out his hand. “Farewell, gerthddyn. Maybe the gods will allow us to sit over a tankard again.”
As he shook hands, Salamander felt a dweomer-touched cold run down his back. They’d meet again, he knew, but not in the way that they were hoping. The dweomer-cold was so strong that he shivered convulsively.
“Here,” Jill said. “Do you have a chill?”
“A bit of one. Ye gods, I hate rising early.”
They all laughed and parted smiling, but all day, as he rode back west to Cerrmor, Salamander remembered the dweomer-cold.
In a splendidly appointed innchamber in Dun Deverry, Alastyr and Camdel sat at a small table and haggled over the price of twenty bars of opium. Sarcyn leaned against the windowsill and merely watched this meaningless charade. Although the money meant little to Alastyr, he had to pretend it did to keep Camdel convinced he was nothing more than a midnight importer. Finally the deal was done, the coins handed over. It was time for the true purpose of this meeting. Sarcyn opened up his second sight to watch.
“My lord,” Alastyr said, “you must realize that it’s dangerous for me to come to Dun Deverry. Now that we’ve met, I’d prefer that you deal directly with Sarcyn.”
With a sneer of objection, Camdel looked up, but Alastyr sent a line of light from his aura, threw it around the aura of the lord, and sent the egg of light spinning like a top. Camdel swayed drunkenly.
“Sarcyn is very important,” Alastyr whispered. “You can trust him like you can trust me. You will trust him. You will trust him.”
“I will, then,” Camdel said. “I trust him.”
“Good. You will forget you’ve been ensorcelled. You will forget you’ve been ensorcelled.”
Alastyr withdrew the line and let Camdel’s aura settle.
“Of course, I understand,” Camdel said briskly. “Dealing with your lieutenant will be most satisfactory.”
Sarcyn shut down the sight and escorted the lord out the door with a bow, then latched the heavy oak door after him. Alastyr chuckled under his breath and stood up, stretching his back.
“Done, then,” the master said. “Now, remember, work on him slowly. If you can, only ensorcell him when he’s mead-drunk or smoke-drunk, so he never realizes somewhat odd’s afoot.”
“Easily done, master. He boozes like a swine and sucks smoke like a chimney.”
Alastyr chuckled again. Sarcyn couldn’t remember a time when the master had been this pleased, but then, Alastyr had worked for years to reach this point in his plans. As an intimate in the king’s chambers, Camdel was in a perfect position to steal them a thing that they could never reach themselves.
“I can see that the lad makes you itch,” Alastyr went on. “But then, you always were a little fiend for bed.” Casually he patted the apprentice on the behind.
Sarcyn went stiff with shock. Never before had he realized that Alastyr thought he’d enjoyed the master’s attentions, all those years ago.
“My apologies,” Alastyr said, misunderstanding. “Isn’t he to your taste?”
“I hate the little swine’s guts.”
“Oh. Well, soon you’ll be in a position to make him pay. Keep working on him until we can lead him like a horse—on a very long rein. I’ll be waiting outside the city. Once he’s thoroughly ensorcelled, ride out and join me. But remember, there’s no rush. If it takes weeks, so be it.”
After Alastyr left, Sarcyn spent a long time pacing back and forth from one side of the chamber to the other. His hatred drove him like a goad.
For all his pose of a shabby old herbman, Nevyn was well-known