by Sharon Green
Zirdon couldn’t hold back a whimper this time, not to mention how his hands shook. He'd come so terribly, terribly close…
That was when he heard the tinkle of a bell outside his door, a sound that meant someone wanted to see him. For an instant he was furiously angry that his servants would ignore his orders that he wasn't to be disturbed. Then it came to him in a rush that he wouldn't have been disturbed under normal circumstances, so someone of importance must have come to see him. And he had to see that someone, if for no other reason than to show how guiltless he was…
"Ring a permission for entrance," Zirdon told his servant as he forced himself into unconcern and his usual negligent pose. At least he had enough practice doing that…
And then the door opened, shocking him out of the pose and making him sit bolt upright. The one coming in was Ebro Syant, the fool who had gotten himself crippled and thrown out of the assembly!
"What are you doing here?" Zirdon demanded, on his feet before he realized he wanted to stand. "Get out of my house at once, and don't ever come back!"
"We have something of importance to discuss," Syant replied calmly, more … forceful personality behind the words than Zirdon had ever seen before. "I'm not leaving until I have my say, and I know you'll want to make your own comments. If you really don't mind making those comments in front of that servant, then let him stay. It isn't my neck."
"What if I simply have you thrown out?" Zirdon countered, outraged over being given orders in his own home but also wary. No one had ever suspected the man of doing anything he shouldn't have, which meant he was clever…
"Yes, you could have me thrown out," Syant granted, but the small man didn't seem really disturbed over the possibility. "If you do, though, I'll go and have my say to Cleemor Gardan. Gardan probably won't believe me until he asks certain questions of certain members of the assembly, but then he'll have no choice about believing. I think you know what will happen after that."
Zirdon felt as though all his blood was about to drain out of his face, and he clamped down hard on the feeling. The servant was still in the room, and looking guilty was almost as bad as admitting the guilt out loud.
"But speaking to Gardan would be horribly hard for you, I know," Zirdon said after a moment, fighting to sound concerned and kindly. "We've never been friends, Syant, but after what was done to you the least I can do is listen to what you have to say. All right, you may leave us alone."
"At your command, Exalted One," the servant acknowledged at once with a bow, knowing Zirdon's last words had been for him. After the bow the man hurried out of the room, closing the door behind himself.
"You're being very wise," Syant said softly once they were alone. "They didn't hesitate a moment to violate the very essence of me, and they won't hesitate any longer over doing the same to you."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Zirdon told the distasteful little man with a grimace. "I'm innocent of any wrongdoing, and there certainly aren't all sorts of people lined up to accuse me - the way there were to accuse you."
"A few simple words can change that," Syant disagreed with a faint smile, walking to a chair and sitting without waiting to be invited. "Most of your former associates think that that Sheedra Kam bit let herself be used just to please you. What do you think they'd say - along with the girl's father - if they found out you'd used your Blending to make her more amenable and cooperative? Do you expect they'd laugh and consider it a marvelous joke?"
"How dare you suggest something like that?" Zirdon demanded, fighting to be outraged rather than terrified as he looked down at Syant. "It was your Blending that stood together to accuse you. Mine would never do the same, most especially since the accusation would be a lie."
"You do that very well, but not well enough to negate the facts," Syant observed as he looked up at Zirdon, the man's manner still utterly calm. "I made it my business to be aware of everything done by other members of the assembly, and finding out about your little hobby wasn't difficult at all. I'll wager anything you name that the Kam girl has no idea of the real number of the men you gave her to, and when she finds out she'll be furious. She is that kind, you know, the kind who works to get even after getting mad."
It was all Zirdon could do to walk the step or two necessary to bring him back to his chair. The nasty little slime knew everything, and Zirdon had to use sitting down to keep himself from showing that fact on his face. He took a long moment to pull himself together, then he looked straight at his visitor again.
"I deny everything you've said, but arguing the point isn't worth the time it will waste," he told Syant without beating around the bush. "What do you want?"
"Something you'll find abhorrent, but will have to learn to live with," Syant answered at once, a chilling expression in those flat, dead eyes. "I haven't yet made my plans in full, but when I do and I've gotten in touch with you again, I expect you to obey any orders you're given without hesitation. If you don't, you'll go down right along with that lapdog Gardan and his precious mistress Lorimon."
Zirdon, about to vehemently refuse to obey anyone's orders, paused when he heard the rest of what Syant had said. So the man meant to take down Cleemor Gardan and Antrie Lorimon, did he? An action of that sort would bring Syant nothing but satisfaction over vengeance taken, but it could well bring a good deal more to him. Zirdon was still a member of the assembly while Syant was not, and with Gardan and Lorimon out of the way there would be little or nothing to keep Zirdon from forming a two-thirds coalition at the very least.
"If you're against Gardan and Lorimon, you certainly have my support," Zirdon said after the pause, voicing an admission that would be a surprise to no one. "After the way they stole away my supporters in the assembly, I haven't the least amount of sympathy for them. If it's my cooperation you want, you'll definitely have it."
"That's very kind of you, Tal," Syant stated with a nasty edge to his tone and smile as he stood. "Just keep in mind the fact that kindness isn't really the thing causing all that cooperation. Oh, and I really ought to mention that killing me won't solve your problem, only make it infinitely worse. I've written out what I know about you and left the document with someone who is utterly trustworthy. In the case of my sudden death or disappearance, that document will be opened and read."
Zirdon paled just a little before he had control of himself again. For some reason it hadn't occurred to him to dispose of Syant, but the thought would certainly have come at some time. Now the idea was completely beyond consideration, something Syant's vindictive smile showed the miserable man already knew.
"That was something you needed to be told, but don't let it disturb you unduly," Syant said, pausing on his way to the door to turn back to Zirdon. "You have a good deal to gain by … cooperating with me, so let your thoughts dwell on that truth. If you behave in the way I require of you, you need have no fear of losing even more. Don't forget to tell your people to admit me at once when I return. They still think of me as an Exalted One, but they'll soon learn better and I don't want to be kept waiting on your doorstep. Do you understand?"
"How could I fail to understand?" Zirdon growled in his thoughts before nodding stiffly in answer to the question. Syant was hardly likely to be pleased with even that small a rebellion, and antagonizing the man would be foolish.
"Good," Syant said with a nod, almost nothing left of his smile. "If you support me faithfully in this, we'll both benefit tremendously. Keep to that thought, and everything will be just fine."
Syant nodded before going the rest of the way to the door, and a moment later he was gone. Zirdon sat back and reached for the teacup he couldn't remember having put down, his thoughts in a whirlwind of confusion. He seemed to be trapped into helping Syant whether he wanted to or not, and the vast benefits he expected to reap were already looking more dangerous to obtain than he cared for.
But he'd been given very little choice in the matter. Zirdon sipped the now-cool tea as he racked his brain for a way o
ut of the mess, but there didn't seem to be one. If he didn't go along with Syant, he could end up just as maimed as the stupid little fat man.
A shudder passed through Zirdon at that realization, and he gulped down the rest of the tea and then rose shakily to refill his cup. There was no sense in being nervous, not when there was nothing anyone could do to change the situation, but his mind seemed reluctant to accept that comfortable truth at least for the moment. Later it would hopefully be different, but right now Zirdon had to hold his cup with both hands to keep from spilling the tea on himself…
* * *
Ebro Syant let his hired coach carry him away from Zirdon Tal's house and back toward where he'd left his own coach. As soon as the vehicle began to move, Ebro leaned back and made himself as comfortable as possible. It wasn't likely that he would ever be completely comfortable again, most especially not with Tal being the only tool he could use to exact his vengeance. The man did know how to play cool and innocent, even in the face of evidence proving his guilt, but that didn't make him any less of a fool.
Without stopping to think about it, Ebro tried to touch the horses pulling the coach in an effort to make them move a bit faster. He was in a hurry, but asking the driver to pick up the pace would do too much to make the man remember him - and where he'd been taken. It took a moment or two of nothing happening to remind Ebro that his talent was gone, and the stab of pain and rage he felt was almost too sharp to control. But he had to control himself, so he quickly turned his mind to something else.
Yes, Zirdon Tal was a fool, all right, even more so than Ebro had expected him to be. If he had been in Tal's place, doing away with someone threatening him would have been his first thought. Ebro had been waiting for a sign to show that the idea had occurred to Tal, but nothing of the sort had appeared. That was why he had mentioned the point, to keep Tal from later thinking of it on his own and acting before considering the matter carefully. Tal was an idiot as well as a fool, and dealing with idiots was extremely dangerous.
But Ebro had been given no choice, and possibly the matter would turn out to be much safer than he expected. Again, if he'd been in Tal's place, he would have used his Blending to find out who that damning document had been left with. He would then have given Tal instructions to retrieve the document, made certain that no others existed once it was, and then it would have been completely safe to make his attempted blackmailer simply disappear.
And, in this case, Tal would have discovered that there was no written accusation against him. Ebro had seen no reason to bother with something that could be retrieved so easily, but now there was every reason to go through with it. If the idiot ever forced himself to use his Blending the effort of writing an accusation would end up wasted, but the fool's talent was Fire magic, not Earth magic. He could never silence his Blending the way Ebro had done, and so would probably end up compromised anyway.
The street was filled with far too many people to suit Ebro, but there was nothing he could do about it beyond moving to the middle of the coach seat. That would make him more difficult to notice without also making it look as if he were hiding, the necessary balance now required. And it would just be for a handful of minutes more. They were almost to the eating parlor where Ebro had asked to be taken.
Once the coach reached the eating parlor, Ebro paid off the driver and then entered the parlor. He had no intention of stopping for a full meal, not now when his appetite had been destroyed along with his talent. But he did need to be inside the parlor until the hired coach was no longer in the area, something that should be accomplished rather quickly. Ebro ordered a cup of tea and a slice of sugar loaf, nibbled at the cake for appearance sake, but finished the tea completely. That fool hadn't even thought to offer refreshment…
Ebro paid his bill and walked outside slowly, having made sure that two or three groups of people had left before him. It was highly unlikely that none of the three groups would require a coach, and the consideration turned out to be so. The coach he'd hired was nowhere in sight, which let him walk around the block to where he'd left his own coach.
His driver sat waiting patiently, just the way he was supposed to have done. Ebro told the man to take him home, then he climbed into the coach. The seats were much more comfortable than the ones in the hired coach, and Ebro leaned back near the right-hand window as the driver began to obey him. Ebro hadn't yet returned home this morning, finding it easier to think while the coach took him all over the city. His thinking had been extremely productive, but now it was time to return to his home. That would let him continue his thinking in much more comfortable surroundings.
It wasn't long before the coach pulled into the drive of his house, but the sight of the goings-on there pulled Ebro out of his reverie immediately. The servants were carrying out various boxes and setting them near the drive, just as if the boxes contained trash for pickup and burning. But the house didn't have that much trash, not when he couldn't abide clutter…
"What is all this?" Ebro demanded once the coach had stopped near the boxes, gaining the attention of two of the servants. "Have you fools been saving up trash rather than moving your lazy hides when it was time to put it out? If so, you won't find me in the least pleased."
"Why would we care whether or not you were pleased?" one of the servants, a man named Frarin, asked with an actual sneer. "You don't live here any longer, and these are your personal belongings. I'm supposed to tell you that you can use the coach one more time to move these things to wherever you'll be living, but after that you're on your own."
Ebro froze in the act of opening the coach door, fighting not to show how devastated he felt. It hadn't really come through to him that he was no longer a member of the assembly even though no one had said so in so many words. He was also no longer the major talent of a Blending, and the house belonged to whoever was chosen to take his former place.
Tears tried to well up in Ebro's eyes as he closed the coach door and sat back again, but he refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he'd been touched. They could have waited at least one day to throw him out of the place he'd called home for so long, but he was no longer of any consequence so they hadn't waited. He now had to find some place to live, a task he'd need a decent amount of gold for. But if they'd taken back his house, they'd surely cut him off from the funds that used to be his by right…
Ebro sat stiffly and watched the very few boxes being loaded onto the coach. Those boxes couldn't possibly hold anything beyond some of his clothing and a handful of personal possessions, which obviously didn't include any of the artwork and beautiful accessories he'd bought for the house. Those would stay with the house, while he -
A burning lump blocked Ebro's throat, but it didn't stop him from thinking. He didn't yet know where he would go, but it certainly would not be Tal's house. Tal was his secret weapon, the tool Ebro would use to destroy those who had hurt him so badly. It would happen, Ebro swore to himself, it would happen even if vengeance was the last thing he accomplished!
Chapter 17
Honrita Grohl stood third in one of the lines at the new "office," a place that was really a newly opened shop that sold nothing. Even at that early an hour there were quite a few other people in line, people who, like Honrita, were eager to have their talents trained. And after the training, maybe even finding a Blending to be part of…
Honrita felt a shiver go through her that was half delight and half fear. She had always wanted to do something with her talent, but for every moment of her twenty-nine years people had told her how bad using talent was. She'd listened to them, of course, her nature allowed her to do nothing else, but she'd always felt … incomplete, somehow. But now things had changed in a way she'd only dreamt about…
"Name and aspect, please," a voice said, and Honrita came back to where she stood to find that she was now at the head of the line. The man seated behind the table smiled at her encouragingly, but she couldn't keep her answering smile from being tremulous.<
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"My name is Honrita Grohl and my aspect is Spirit magic," Honrita replied in a whispered rush as her fingers pulled at one another. "Even if I have to wait, I'd still like to be in one of the classes."
"As early as you've gotten here, you'll probably be in one of the first classes," the man said after writing on the paper in front of him. "Are you free during the day, or do you need one of the evening classes?"
"Oh, no, I can't attend during the day!" Honrita protested, her insides in a sudden flurry. "I work during the day as a seamstress, but did you say something about evening classes?"
"Yes, there are evening classes for those who have to work," the man told her in a kindly way. "Is there anything to keep you from starting this evening?"
"No, there's nothing to keep me from starting tonight," Honrita answered, her emotions trying to surge out of her control. "Where do I go, and how much will it cost?"
"You report back here at six tonight, and it won't cost you anything," the man responded with a wide smile, probably because Honrita had started to glow. "We're using the gold left behind by the nobility to pay for these classes, which is only fair. After all, they're the ones who kept people from using their abilities for so long. Take this paper and go over to the side of the room, where people are waiting under the signs of the different aspects. Go to the Spirit magic sign, and the people there will tell you how strong or weak your talent is. But don't worry if you're considered weak. You'll still be trained as far as possible."
"Thank you," Honrita whispered, taking the paper the man had written on and turning to her right. It was all she could do not to clutch the paper as she walked to the line with the sign of Spirit magic above the two people sitting there, and she felt somewhat hesitant. No one else stood in line there, so she would have to be first…