by Sharon Green
“Well, this is a small surprise,” the man inside said, smiling faintly as he gazed mildly at Vallant. “I expected your lovely groupmate Jovvi Hafford to come running up to explain that you were in her place rather than your own, but she hasn’t. I’m Lord Kambil Arstin, by the way, her equal in Spirit magic.”
“That’s your opinion,” Vallant countered with a snort, then nodded to the other occupant of the room, a woman he recognized despite the changes she’d gone through. “Or maybe you bein’ Jovvi’s equal is simply your boast, as you seem worried enough about her to give yourself a bit of an edge. Was that female over there supposed to rattle Jovvi enough to let you best her? If so, what a shame it isn’t goin’ to happen.”
“Why is it that peasants always presume?” the man asked the world in general with a sigh, pretending that Vallant’s words hadn’t gotten him angry. “A gentleman speaks to them as though they weren’t worth less than dirt, and receives curtness for his trouble. At the very least, another gentleman would have responded with his own name. Or don’t you have a name, peasant?”
“Since you’reso desperate to know, Arstin, I’m Vallant Ro,” Vallant responded, wondering what the man was up to—and why he hadn’t yet stood. He looked a bit thinner and more frail than Vallant remembered from the competitions… “And don’t bother remindin’ me about the ‘lord’ part. This empire is about to lose all its lords, your lot first and then the rest.”
“I’m sure you think so, since all peasants tend to live in daydreams,” Arstin replied, that faint smile back in place. “But you’remuch better than a peasant, aren’t you, Ro? You come from a wealthy shipping family, so you know what it is to have two gold coins to rub together. Merchants do so like to harp on their having gold.”
“And useless slugs callin’ themselves lords like to harp on how clever they were in bein’ born,” Vallant returned dryly. “They sneer at the idea of someone earnin’ gold himself, because they know they could never do it. That’s why it’s always ‘beneath’ them, and why someone who does it can never be associated with. They’reafraid of bein’ shown up for the losers they are. Why is that woman just sittin there and starin’?”
“Primarily because I grew tired of her insanity,” Arstin answered, now apparently very pleased about something. “She’s obsessed with revenging herself for what she’s been put through, and her not unexpected target is Dama Hafford. It was the lady’s fault that this one was sent to the mines, after all.”
“The lady had nothin’ to do with it, and you ought to know that even if this one doesn’t,” Vallant retorted, unhappy with how satisfied Arstin looked. He was definitely up to something… “Jovvi didn’t even report the matter of the attempted kidnappin’, nor was she asked to testify at this woman’s trial. She ended up condemned through her own actions and her own admissions, just the way you and your groupmates have been. It’s all over, Arstin, and there’s no sane reason for not callin’ off whatever it is you have in mind.”
“To quote you, my friend, that’s your opinion,” Arstin said, still smiling that faint smile. “Since mine is completely different, we’ll continue on for a short while yet. I take it that the letter Delin prepared and considered such a good idea turned out to be totally useless? I’ll wager not one of you touched the thing, and therefore none of you is dying of poison.”
“This time you’reright,” Vallant agreed, glancing around to see if there was anything he should be noticing but wasn’t. “Our Earth magic user spotted the poison immediately, so none of us touched the letter. But you and your groupmates aren’t equally untouched, and we’ve been told that the counteragent you’reusin’ won’t work for very much longer. You’d better end this, so we can see if there’s anythin’ we can do for you.”
“A rather tempting offer, but not as tempting as it once would have been,” Arstin said with a small headshake, something indefinable disappearing from his smile. “These past few days I’ve been feeling … less strong and capable than I used to, and oddly enough the outlook has very little to do with my physical condition. It’s apparently my mind which has lost a good deal of firm support, and that lack of assurance is rather upsetting. I’ve always thought of myself as supremely capable, and now I find that I must prove the contention even if it happens to be the last thing I do. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Frankly, no,” Vallant admitted, giving the man an honest answer. “In the last few days I’ve learned somethin’ about myself and others, and that’s that the only one who has to believe somethin’ about you is you. Other people’s opinions don’t matter, as long as you know the truth and can hold to it. That way you avoid havin’ others define you, and you also avoid misunderstandin’s over what you are and aren’t.”
“In other words, the only one you have to prove things to is yourself,” Arstin agreed, nodding again. “Yes, I’m aware of that, so my actions will selfishly be only for myself. And please don’t mention my beloved groupmates again, not if you want to continue this conversation. Not one of them has ever been worth anything at all, and I myself was a fool for not having found some way to replace Delin. The only trouble was, none of the other Earth magic users was as strong as he is, so I decided to take the chance that I’d be able to control him. Ultimately I’ll pay the price of that stupidity, but not until I’ve redeemed myself in my own eyes.”
“And how do you intend doin’ that?” Vallant asked, as ready to defend himself as he would ever be. “You’ve been pokin’ at my mind since I first walked in here, but I haven’t had any trouble keepin’ you out. Unless you want me to take my own turn at attackin’, you’d better rethink your position.”
“No, I have a much better idea than that,” Arstin disagreed, shifting just a little in his chair. “The first thing I must do is rid myself of this useless female, and then I’ll be free to give you my full attention. Please don’t be upset at what happens, she really is quite mad and therefore useless.”
Vallant had the disturbing feeling that he knew what Arstin was about, but before he might move from where he stood, Allestine Tromin gasped where she sat at the edge of her chair, then collapsed bonelessly back. Vallant took an automatic step toward her, but trying to help would have been useless. Even if he’d known what Arstin had done, he couldn’t have done anything himself to change it.
“Really, my friend, I told you not to worry,” Arstin said, mild rebuke in the words. “She isn’t dead, after all, and won’t be for a good few minutes yet. I’ve simply sent her mind down so deep that her awareness is completely buried, and that way she won’t be able to manage somehow to interfere. Once I stand—or sit—victorious I’ll retrieve her from the depths, but if I don’t survive, neither will she.”
Amusement returned to Arstin’s smile, as though he’d struck a shrewd blow at Vallant. Allestine Tromin’s life now depended on Arstin’s survival, and if she died it would be directly Vallant’s fault. Vallant felt tempted to explain to Arstin that he couldn’t have cared less about what happened to the Tromin woman, not after what she’d tried to do to Jovvi and Tamrissa both. He’d mentioned her in the first place only because he thought she might be used against him in some way, not because he was too gentlemanly to ignore the plight of any woman. It would have been satisfying to explain the truth, but at the moment it was much more politic to remain silent.
“Now then,” Arstin continued, “I hope you don’t mind if I boast just a bit. In a manner of speaking I’ve been tied hand and foot these past few days, but once you and your friends are defeated I’ve arranged to have things return to normal. One of my groupmates believes he has the full support of the rest of us, but what we’reall supporting is his downfall. With the threat of your five over, the rest will then turn on him, destroying him in the fastest way possible. That counteragent you mentioned may not be good for much longer, but we now have the formula for it. We should certainly have enough time to discover the antidote, and then we’ll go looking for someone else to round out our Five.”
&
nbsp; “You have no idea how insane you’resoundin’, do you,” Vallant remarked, actually more chilled than he felt willing to show. “You’ve made all sorts of plans and arrangements, and they allow for nothin’ but the idea of your group winnin’. Someone would think that the bunch of you didn’t know we were stronger.”
“Only fractionally stronger, and that as a Blending,” Arstin corrected, his good humor unchanged. “It may have escaped your attention, but here and now my people and I aren’t facing your Blending. And there’s something else I really must point out. If you’ll look around, my dear Ro, you’ll notice that this room has nothing in the way of windows. The nearest windows are quite some distance off, and you’d have to run rather fast and far to reach one. And by the way, thank you for telling me which of those peasants you are. I couldn’t have managed without that knowledge.”
The man began to laugh breathily as Vallant looked around again, confirming the fact that there didn’t seem to be windows in the sitting room. Something stirred at the back of his mind, almost like the beginnings of fear, but that was absurd. There was nothing there for him to fear, not even the suddenly stronger probing at his mind by the man who had laughed.
“Not only aren’t you gettin’ anywhere with that pokin’ you’redoin’, you’reworkin’ on faulty information,” Vallant told the man, now seeing all amusement vanish from Arstin. “I’m not the one who worries about not havin’ windows handy, I’m the one who plays with water. I’m also the fool who has been waitin’ for you to stop attackin’, but I can see now that that isn’t goin’ to happen. So let’s see if we can make it happen.”
“No!” Arstin shrieked, the whites of his eyes showing all around. “You can’t do anything yet, not when my link groups have somehow been drained of strength! I have to find more—!”
The man’s words broke off when the globe of water surrounded his head, and he thrashed around in an effort to stave off drowning. Vallant had originally intended to pull all the water out of his body, but this way he had more control. He’d let Arstin reach the point of almost drowning, and then it would be safe to leave the man and go looking for Jovvi. It ought to be her decision whether or not Allestine Tromin was saved, and she was also the only one who would be able to do it.
It took the expected three minutes or so for Arstin to succumb, and once he’d collapsed to the floor Vallant removed the globe of water and left the room. He felt confusion over a number of the things which had happened in that room, but the strangest of all was the way Arstin had made that mistake about Vallant’s problem. He wasn’t the one who feared confined spaces, he was the one who dreaded the thought of burnout. Odd the way Arstin had gotten that mixed up, although Vallant’s fear of burnout wasn’t nearly as strong as it had once been. Maybe he was finally getting over it…
* * *
When Kambil Arstin came back to consciousness, he lay face down on the beautiful carpeting of the sitting room. When he coughed water streamed out of his mouth, and that brought back memory of what had happened.
For some reason he hadn’t been able to touch the peasant’s mind at all, just as though the man had gained three times or more the strength of his own groupmates. He hadn’t expected to need the additional strength of the tandem link groups he’d prepared, but when he found he did need them after all he’d been shocked to see that they’d been drained. How could that possibly have happened…?
More water came up with the next cough, along with the question of how he could have been so mistaken. After tricking the peasant into speaking his name, Kambil had known immediately how to reach him even without using his skill. Ro was the Water talent of their group, and the Water talent feared being in enclosed places. Pressing the point should have made the man panic and lose control of himself, and then it would have been pure simplicity to take over his mind.
Once he had one of them, Kambil would then have had the man do away with the woman who had Spirit magic, and then the others would have been taken over just as easily as the first. That was his plan, to find himself an entirely new, completely capable group to replace the blemished Blending he’d been forced to work with, and then the entire world would have been his. It should have worked, it should have, but why hadn’t it…?
A third cough brought up only a little water, so Kambil began to make the effort to force himself to sitting. At least the fool had blundered in not making sure he was dead, and that mistake would cost him dear. His plan would have to be revised, but it was still usable if he acted carefully but swiftly. One of the others in their five—
A gasp of pain forced itself from Kambil’s lips, surprising him and bringing a frown. Why in the world would he feel that pain in his middle now, after taking the counteragent at the proper time? It was much too soon to need another dose, although he really did have it if he needed it. He’d had Bron steal the formula and take a sample of the counteragent to a Middle practitioner in Earth magic, and then the resulting liquid was brought to Kambil. Afterward he’d made Bron forget he’d done it, as Bron and the others had no place in Kambil’s plans. What a fool Delin had been to order Kambil to take control of the others again. He’d made sure Kambil couldn’t act against him, but just like the loser he was, he’d forgotten about the others—
A second, harder stab of pain scrambled his thoughts again, telling Kambil that it was time to find and take that newly made counteragent. It took every ounce of his physical strength and store of determination, but Kambil pulled himself up and staggered over to the low cabinet which held a tea service. Opening the door of the cabinet gave him access to his new store of vials, and choosing one then swallowing it down was the work of a moment. It eased the pain immediately just as it was supposed to do, so Kambil took a deep breath and smiled as he straightened. Now on with the plan to make himself the ruler of the entire world—
Another, really hard stab of pain doubled Kambil over, and fear entered him from every pore. The counteragent wasn’t working the way it should have, and fumbling out another vial and swallowing its contents also did nothing. But that wasn’t possible … he couldn’t have been forced to wait too long…!
A spasm of agony dropped Kambil to his knees and then to the floor, sending him back to that state of screaming mindlessness that had held him for so long because of Delin. That must be it, the reason why the new counteragent wasn’t working… He’d been left to the mercies of the poison too long, and it had eaten its way too far into his vitals… Damn that mindless Delin…!
“But it can’t happen yet, please Grammi, don’t let it happen!” Kambil babbled, beginning to be beyond knowing what he said. “You told me I’d have it all, and you never lied to me! I loved you so much, even after you stole the life of my sweet, gentle mother… I wanted to cry over that loss, but you made me laugh instead … and never ever gave me the chance to mourn… I vaguely remember wanting to hate you, but you never allowed that either… You helped me do it all, and I know now that I can’t do anything without you… I admit that, so help me! Don’t just lie there dead…!”
The pain spread and took over Kambil’s world entirely, stealing the ability to speak from him. But in his mind he still cried for help from the woman he both hated and loved, cried and pleaded until he became one with the darkness which had already claimed her…
CHAPTER FORTY
Lorand strode along the corridor at his best speed, determined to get that confrontation nonsense over with so that they could all get out of that place. Palaces were by their very nature large and luxurious, but that particular palace made him feel extremely uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that he disliked what he would probably have to do.
A lovely tapestry appeared on the wall to his left, a large, wide thing depicting a hunt which made the viewer wonder just what was being hunted. At first glance it seemed that everyone rode horses and some of the riders pointed toward deer and elk and birds, and some of the animals and birds were already on the ground. A second glance showed that only some of
the riders were engaged in pointing—the weavers’ way of depicting talent being used. The rest of the figures rode double, men with women, and what they were engaged in wasn’t a usual part of hunting. At least not on any hunt he’d been on…
Lorand sighed as he moved past the tapestry, finding it uncomfortable that he still seemed to be full of the same country naïveté, which had plagued him when he’d first reached Gan Garee. If some groups of people were supple enough to make love on horseback, who was he to think that they shouldn’t be doing it? All too often that judgment came along when someone felt either left out of things like that, or too afraid to try them even if invited. It was so much easier to say that something was wrong, than to admit that you lacked what it took to do that something…
Which brought to mind the main problem bothering him: would he be able to do what was necessary? He really disliked the thought of having to kill someone in what amounted to cold blood, even if that someone happened to be a member of the hated nobility—and someone who had conspired to make a slave of him and his groupmates just the way they’d done with others. Not all members of the nobility were directly responsible for the doings of the rest, but when Lorand had once mentioned that to Meerk, the other man had countered that truth without any trouble. If you know about something that’s wrong and don’t do anything to stop it, Meerk had said, you’rejust as responsible for what happens as those who are actively producing the wrong. By not opposing it you’recondoning it, so guilt can’t be escaped with nonaction.
“And on top of that,” Lorand muttered as he glanced around, “if I decide to be softhearted about the one I’m supposed to face, he or she could then turn around and harm one of the others. If any of them was hurt because I can’t do a job properly, I’d never be able to live with myself. So I have to do it right, but please—please! —don’t let it be the woman!”
Lorand, not being terribly religious, had no idea whom he might be praying to, but whomever it was he fervently hoped they were listening. Especially since he’d just detected the presence of living beings in a room not far ahead, four living beings in point of fact. That made him feel considerably better rather than more upset, as the more people he faced, the less he would hesitate to defend himself. But that was odd… Four rather than five? He would hardly have been surprised if the enemy Blending had gathered together to defeat him and the others singly, but with four rather than five? That didn’t make much sense.
