The Simbul's gift - Lynn Abbey [20]
His plan was simple: a few false clues planted in fertile ground throughout Thay, a few rumors whispered in suspicious ears, and Rhym imagined himself the victim of conspiracy and rebellion within his own school. By last night, six ranking transmuters were known dead, another score had disappeared. No one suspected Enchantment's role in the purge. Lauzoril gained no glory for his schemes, but he'd taken no risk, either and that was the way he liked to play the zulkirs' game. Don't waste your own strength, that was the supreme lesson he'd learned from his predecessor:
Make your enemy waste his.
"You're not as good as you think you are, boy," Gweltaz said, as if he could pluck a man's thoughts from his head-which, perhaps, he could: Lauzoril did not know the limits of his grandfather's abilities, only that he, Lauzoril, held the upper hand. "While you were celebrating, a man died in Nethra-your man in Nethra. He suffered, too."
Lauzoril uncrossed his feet, then crossed them again and remained where he was, though his calm had been shattered. He racked his memory to remember who he had in Nethra and why. A face swam out of memory: Vur Bract, a youngish man with a bent for merchantry. He tended the enchanters' affairs, buying cheap and selling dear; he'd had a rewarding life ahead of him.
"How did he die?" Chazsinal interrupted his son's remembering. "Who killed him-the witch-queen?"
Despite himself, Lauzoril stiffened; Gweltaz noticed.
"Oh, come now-who else would kill one of yours in Nethra? Just because you spy on her, did you think you were exempt from her wrath, boy? If she knew-when she finds out, you'll find yourself strung across the abyss with Tam on one side, her on the other."
"The spell will fade before the Simbul thinks to look for it."
"Of course it will-enchantments fade rather quickly, don't they?"
Lauzoril's answer was a sneer and a shower of sparks that swirled around the pitch-soaked bandages. The zulkir didn't think of the dagger as a spy. He'd enchanted both blade and studded-leather hilt with a variety of spells for the challenge of stabilizing so much magic in so small and mundane an object. He'd maneuvered it into Aglarond for the same reasons. The glimpses his enchantments provided of the Simbul's workroom-once a day, but never at the same time and never longer than the pause between two heartbeats-were scarcely the useful information a zulkir expected from his spies. She was seldom there and the knife had not become one of her favorites.
No one except Gweltaz and Chazsinal knew what he'd accomplished or the pleasure he derived from the stolen moments of the Simbul's life. At times like this, Lauzoril wished he'd never told them-but they were his confidants. With them, he took risks.
"Forget her, Lauzoril," Gweltaz advised when the sparks were dead coals peppering Chazsinal's bandages. "A man like you-you're still in your natural prime. Add some spice to your celebrations, O Mighty Zulkir. Visit the stews and the brothels; it worked well enough for your own father. You need a son, Lauzoril."
"That's not open to discussion," Lauzoril said, raising three fingers of his right hand in a gesture that made both necromancers fade within their bandages.
Whatever Lauzoril's interest in Thay's archenemy, it didn't include romance. He'd never laid eyes on her, never met or heard of anyone who had and survived the experience. It was a known fact: The woman slew Thayan wizards without provocation-witness what she'd done to Bract. And, anyway, other women didn't tempt Lauzoril. He had a wife, the granddaughter of his predecessor, and while he was not compelled to be faithful to her, he'd made ordinary promises that he'd found surprisingly easy to keep.
He had children, as well: two of them, but not the sons Gweltaz deemed necessary. His daughters were beautiful, especially the younger one, and wise, especially the elder. He kept them safe in Thazalhar where desolation and the ghosts of slaughtered armies reinforced his enchantments. They were innocent, both of them ignorant of all