Ideas continued to tumble through Colbey’s mind in an instant. Experience told him the Cardinal Wizards would prove oblivious to any but magical weapons; he had no means of knowing that the shattering of the Pica Stone had made the Wizards vulnerable. He also understood that the apprentices, by virtue of surviving the Tasks of Wizardry, might also have gained that protection. That seemed less certain, however. The Tasks had been supposed to grant him the same security; yet they had not. Whether that came as an effect of the world appearance of the Staff of Chaos or as a result of his success with the Eighth Task, he did not know. Much, he could learn only by doing battle with the Cardinal Wizards; but that, in and of itself, might prove a death sentence for the Renshai.
Colbey closed his hand around the staff. The time had come for some guidance from a finer, older strategist than himself. For all his decades of war, Renshai had dedicated themselves to individual skill in combat. He knew little of tactics.
*Ah. For all the times you’ve dismissed my contributions, now you come to me for advice?*
*Don’t sound so surprised. It was the deal we made from the start, remember? You advise, and I choose what to do with your opinion.*
*Knowledge,* the staff corrected.
*Knowledge, then.* Colbey had no intention of arguing semantics. Besides, he had to concede that the staff’s reliance on established fact rather than intuition might prove as much its strength as its major weakness. *What do you suggest?*
*First, I don’t know exactly the effect bringing me and my opposite into the world might have caused. I can’t predict whether the Tasks still provide invulnerability. That decision lies in Odin’s hands.*
Though he knew Sterrane and the others around the feasting table patiently awaited an answer, Colbey continued listening raptly.
*You’re my champion. You can’t turn me over to the others, nor even go through the motions of such an action. Somehow, you’ll have to get the Renshai back.*
*Basic stuff.* Colbey grew impatient. *The question is, should I enlist aid?*
*You can’t fight all of the other Wizards alone.*
The challenge immediately raised Colbey’s battle instincts.
The staff interrupted. *Spare me your warrior’s pride. The Cardinal Wizards have suppressed all but their most basic magics for years. As the world gains chaos, that’s no longer the case. I still believe no single Wizard has one spell that could kill you. However, with two or three of their minds linked, I think they could muster the power. Certainly, no mortal could stand before such an association. To your advantage, the Cardinal Wizards have little direct experience with major magics, and they know that they risk the Ragnarok the more power they call forth in one place. Given the situation, though, that may not deter them much.*
The staff hesitated a moment, as if to regain the proper train of its thoughts. *In answer to your question, yes. Without some companions, you’re doomed to failure. If you bring too many, the Wizards will either flee with the Renshai or murder them. But consider those companions carefully. No doubt, some or all of them will die. If the Wizards remain invulnerable, your companions can help only to a degree.*
*Who do you suggest?*
A strange sensation flitted through Colbey’s mind and staff hand at once. *I’m afraid, my champion, that your instincts there will undoubtedly prove better than my knowledge.*
Colbey glanced around the table at his dinner mates. Although it seemed to him as if a long time had passed, the moments of mental conversation and thought had not lasted long enough for anyone to prompt him to speak again. He came to an immediate decision. Without a word, he passed the parchment to Sterrane.
The king perused the message for some time. Apparently, he had learned the Cardinal Wizards’ personal runes during his time with Shadimar, for he recognized the signature at once. “Carcophan?”
“Along with Trilless and Shadimar. They’re working together now.”
Sterrane looked hurt. “Can give staff?”
“No, Sterrane, I can’t. The cost would be incalculable.”
Baran and Khitajrah looked confused. Only Mar Lon followed the course of the conversation between king and Renshai. “May I see it, too?”
“Sure. Show it to anyone here, with the understanding that its contents don’t leave this room.” Colbey grinned briefly, able to raise a modicum of satisfaction despite the gravity of the situation. “Might give you a different look at the Cardinal Wizards.”
Mar Lon read, his expression unchanging until the blank look seemed locked on his face and he no longer moved except to breathe.
Baran had to gently pry the parchment from beneath the bard’s fingers. Then the message made its rounds, ending back in Colbey’s hands. Khitajrah gave his knee a meaningful squeeze beneath the table that he guessed she would explain later.
Despite his usual gentle innocence, Sterrane addressed the matter with uncharacteristic seriousness. “Shadimar like father to me,” he admitted, referring to the Eastern Wizard having raised him from age eight to young adulthood. “But not stand for kidnap from anyone.” His soft eyes met Colbey’s. “Me help any way can. Just tell how.”
“Thank you,” Colbey said. “Your support means everything and may make all the difference between success and many blameless deaths.” He did not add the Ragnarok, not wanting to have to explain unnecessary details that would have no bearing on the actions of Sterrane’s men.
“I want to go,” Mar Lon said. As if awakening from a trance, he slowly raised his attention to Colbey. “I want to go with you.”
Colbey frowned, his feelings on the matter mixed. Although Mar Lon seemed to have fallen prey to the same conclusions about Colbey as the other Wizards, the Renshai knew a major difference existed here. Despite his misconceptions, Mar Lon was obligated to support complete neutrality. He did so with a thoughtfulness that could and had sent him to unfitting methods. Still, though he lacked Sterrane’s natural, instinctive bent for balance, he did tend to find the proper path once his mind sorted the facts. And it was the bard’s right to attend all functions of the Cardinal Wizards impartially. Colbey nudged the bard toward the proper formality, lost in need and befuddlement. “That’s not my decision, Mar Lon.” He inclined his head to indicate Sterrane.
Mar Lon flushed, obviously mortified. The loss of protocol snapped his daze as nothing else could have. He glanced quickly to the king. “That is, Sire, if you’re willing to spare me.”
Sterrane replied so slowly that every eye switched to him before the words emerged. “Not need spare. Me go.”
The announcement seemed senseless.
“You go,” Mar Lon repeated, lapsing into Sterrane’s broken common in order to understand it. “You go? Go? You, Sire?” Then, the realization struck Mar Lon, and his long-held pall evaporated. “Oh, no. No, Sire. It’s far too dangerous.”
“My decision,” Sterrane said, his voice holding more authority than Colbey could imagine from the childlike monarch. “Me go.”
Mar Lon’s fist crashed onto the tabletop, sending his wine glass tumbling. “No! I won’t let you put yourself in peril!”
Wine splashed a purple arc across white linen, and Colbey caught the glass as it toppled over the edge of the table.
Sterrane glared at his bodyguard. “Me king. Me decide. Me go.”
Colbey replaced the glass with a casual movement. “Actually, Sterrane, it’s my decision. Mar Lon’s right. It’s too dangerous.”
Sterrane rose, towering over the others at the table, his gigantic frame suddenly very obvious. “Me KING, damn it. If me say go, me go!”
Colbey had never heard Sterrane swear before. The shocking strangeness of the expletive magnified its significance a thousandfold. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want you there.”
Sterrane leaned toward Colbey until the edges of his beard prickled the Renshai’s cheek. “You insult my fight skill?”
“Certainly not.” Colbey withdrew. It seemed insane to confront any man this adamant, a
nd he had never seen Sterrane unrelenting about anything. “I just don’t know how to tell you how important your life is to every man on our world. It would take too long, and I’m not sure even I completely understand it. You can’t be placed at risk without better cause.”
“Wizards crazy. Mitrian, Rache, Sylva in trouble. No cause better.” Sterrane stepped back, but he did not sit. “We leave tomorrow. You, me, Mar Lon. Who else?”
“Me, Majesty, of course.” Baran broke in before Khitajrah could speak.
Sterrane whipped his head to the speaker, his expression still outraged though it was no longer necessary or appropriate. “Not you. You stay. Regent to Xanranis.”
“What? Me?” In his horror, Baran dropped the amenities Colbey had already forsaken from friendship. “Xanranis is only ten years old. I don’t know anything about running a kingdom.” Finally, he regained enough control to continue with the customary respect. “Please, Sire. You stay. I’ll go as your representative.”
“You.” Sterrane jabbed a finger at Baran. “You stay regent. You . . .” He indicated Mar Lon. “You come with me, if want. Me.” He stabbed the same finger at his own chest. “Me go. Next one gainsay me, thrown in dungeon.”
“That’s—” Colbey started.
King Sterrane interrupted immediately. “That include you, Renshai.”
Khitajrah glanced from face to face, clearly bewildered by much of the exchange. Baran and Mar Lon tensed, ready for action if it became necessary.
Colbey raised his brows, widening his frosty eyes. There was no need for warning or challenge. Sterrane knew an attempt to arrest the Golden Prince of Demons would result in the wasted lives of most of his guard force. Nevertheless, he doubted Sterrane would threaten idly. “I don’t understand your insistence, but I respect it. Come then, if you must, but I hope you change your mind. There’s only two others I want along. Khitajrah, of course.” He patted her thigh beneath the table. “And Arduwyn. To bring more would only increase the danger. And it’s possible once we get there that I’ll find it better to deal with the Wizards myself.”
Baran’s frown made it clear he doubted the possibility, though he did not challenge it aloud. Clearly, he had his own concerns to grapple.
A smile covered Sterrane’s face nearly from ear to ear, and he, once again, became the docile giant Colbey had come to know. “Leave tomorrow. We find Arduwyn. Everything get fixed. You see.”
Though he lacked the king’s childlike faith in happy endings, Colbey could not help but smile back.
CHAPTER 26
From Nowhere to Nowhere
Moonlight trickled between the slats of a decorative shade on the guest room window, throwing white stripes of light across an imported carpet. Colbey perched on a pallet set the perfect height for use as a seat as well as a sleeping place. Silk sheets enwrapped the straw ticking, the thicker cloth beneath it protecting him from stabbing pieces of hay. An ornate teak dresser stood in a far corner of the room, one of its four drawers holding all of Colbey’s gear, with room to spare. A matching desk filled the opposite corner, a pitcher and a basin of warm water on its top. Colbey had just stripped off his clothes, washed, and settled the staff and sword within reach, when a timid knock sounded on the door.
Colbey donned the light linen sleeping gown the Béarnides had left for him on the pallet. He had always felt it rude and cruelly intrusive to enter others’ minds unless they had proved themselves enemies or needed his aid. He relied on the strongest of emotions, those so intense they radiated from people without any need for him to search. This visitor must have considered something long and hard; even through the door, Colbey could perceive a sense of purpose, the kind that comes after a well-pondered decision. He also discovered affection. Nothing about the other seemed deceitful or dangerous. “Come in.”
The door slid open, and Khitajrah stepped through the crack. She closed the panel behind her. She also wore a Béarnian sleeping gown, of a feminine cut and trimmed with ermine. Her small frame was lost in the folds, the garments fashioned for women twice her size. Despite the bulkiness, Colbey could not miss the slender arch of hips and thighs. Crossing the room, she took a seat beside him on the bed.
“What can I do for you?” Colbey asked, banishing the facetiously lewd replies that came to his own mind. He had sacrificed sexual pleasure for so long, he dismissed it easily. Sterrane had granted Khitajrah a similar guest room of her own, so she surely had a purpose for coming to his now.
“What’s going on?”
Colbey squinted, uncertain of the question. Again, he sensed no hostility or accusation, but the specifics of her query defied him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what is it the king and his bodyguard are joining us to do? Besides finding Arduwyn.”
Mention of the red-haired hunter’s name reminded Colbey to ask about Khitajrah’s earlier discomfort. For now, though, it seemed polite to address her concerns first. “You read the note.”
Now Khitajrah’s state of mind revealed that he had hit the root of the problem. He sensed a thread of frustration, and the feelings of desire had strengthened as the nearness of their position translated to a tangible warmth. “Most Eastland women can’t read at all. My husband taught me our native language, but I never had reason to learn the Western tongues.”
Of course. Colbey felt like a fool for not recognizing the problem at once. Her poking him beneath the table while she glanced at the parchment should have cued him well enough, but concern about the Renshai had usurped lesser matters. “The other Wizards captured the Renshai and are holding them hostage.”
“Ah,” Khitajrah said, the smallness of reaction hiding a deeper understanding.
“And we have to rescue them.”
“Ah,” Khitajrah repeated.
Now Colbey found her less easily read. “You don’t have to help if you feel the risk is too great. Or for any reason.”
Khitajrah tilted her head and looked up at Colbey. A band of moonlight lit her brown eyes into a sparkle that could have made an aging beggar look beautiful. “I have reason to despise some of your people.”
“Not really.”
“Two of them killed my husband. I loved him with all my heart, you know.”
Colbey pinned her gaze with his own. “One of the two is already dead, but that’s not really the issue.” He placed a comforting arm around her. “Khitajrah, you’re not a warrior, but you should have known your husband well enough to understand. Warriors fight for causes. They don’t hold personal grudges against enemies who serve the opposite side. On the battlefield, it’s only important to die at the hand of a more competent warrior. To do otherwise becomes a man’s own shame.” He moved from general to specific. “Your husband would have respected Mitrian, not wanted you to avenge him.”
Khitajrah considered for some time. “I know you’re right, but I have to work things through on my own.”
Colbey granted her that need. “I have two questions for you, as long as you’re here.”
Khitajrah nodded to indicate she would grant him the same courtesy.
“First, I understand your dislike for Mitrian, but what’s between you and Arduwyn?”
Khitajrah winced. “How did you know?”
“I read people.” Colbey did not go into detail, letting Khitajrah draw the natural conclusion that he did so by watching attitude and movement. “You get nervous every time someone mentions his name.”
“I didn’t know it was that obvious.” Khitajrah shifted, balancing part of her weight in the hollow between Colbey’s body and the arm he had used to comfort her. The touch thrilled them both. “I took something from him when chaos was with me. He got it back, but I wouldn’t blame him for holding a grudge. Mar Lon knows all about it.”
“It’s Mar Lon’s curse to thrust his ears and opinions into everyone’s business.”
“What’s the other question?”
Colbey smiled, this one far more personal. “Do you remember when we first met? In the t
avern in Pudar?”
Khitajrah winced. “When I tried to get close enough to kill you? Hard to forget.”
Colbey made a gesture with his free hand to dismiss those particular details. “You said something that stayed with me, something I’ve twice since used to help make important decisions. You said:” He tried to recapture the phrase exactly. “‘If you don’t learn to share what you are, you’ll know only loneliness; and those who care most for you will suffer.’ What did you mean by that?”
Khitajrah flushed. “I’m not usually that eloquent. Mostly I was mad . . . and frustrated. I saw the way you handled those Pudarian guardsmen. If you did half the things legends credit you with in the war, you were those men’s hero. Yet you found your own solitude more important than their flattery or their need to glorify their champion. That’s a sure sign of someone who spends way too much time alone. I guessed that you dedicated yourself to personal causes so deeply, you tended to ignore everyone around you. But a man with your abilities gains followers, whether he likes it or not. Your aloofness has to hurt those people.”
Khitajrah’s cheeks reddened further. “And when’s the last time you let someone get close enough to do this?” Without further warning, she wrapped both arms around his shoulders and kissed him, lips and tongue exploring timidly.
Despite his long abstinence, Colbey found himself as excited as a youth. But, before he could respond, she pulled away, glancing hurriedly around the room.
Cued by her sudden alarm, Colbey jerked out of her grip. “What’s wrong?”
“The last time I did that, your hawk tried to rip my scalp off.”
“The aristiri chose to stay outside. You know that too, you little squirrel.” Colbey drew her into an embrace of his own, forcing a kiss that made her catch her breath. A jerk on her gown sprawled her to the pallet, and the fabric fell open to reveal just enough to stir an unstoppable need. He entered her, living her pleasure along with his own. Yet, through it all, he knew a strange wrongness, as if he was a stripling attacking his first girlfriend in her parent’s home long before he had the wherewithal to pay for the consequences. It did not distract him enough that he could not finish.
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