But in this narrow, close corridor, D’Krikas seemed Co loom over him. Volmar had never stopped to realize just how tall an adult Arachnia grew, how tall and thin and alien, so alien ... The great, compound eyes studied him without blinking, the shiny chitin, half hidden by the being’s cloak, gave off a faint, spicy scent that was never a human scent, and Volmar, all at once overwhelmed, forced out a brash:
“You don’t like me, do you?”
D’Krikas drew back slightly in surprise. “What has ‘like’ or ‘dislike’ to do with matters? When my home hive grew overcrowded, I left co ease the burden of feeding all. I swore the proper oath to your father. You know that. I keep my oaths. You know that, too. I served your father the count and I serve you, as I will continue to serve the master of this castle, whomever that may be. As long as honor is not compromised.”
Was there a hint of warning in the precise voice? Volmar fought down a shudder. He had once seen D’Krikas save a servant’s child from a rabid dog by calmly tearing the beast in two with those segmented, fragile-seeming arms, neatly and effortlessly as a man would tear a piece of parchment. And that precise Arachnia beak could sever bone. Everyone knew the one thing no Arachnia could endure was a loss of honor. If D’Krikas somehow suspected—No, no, that was ridiculous! No Arachnia wielded magic, and without magic, even clever D’Krikas would never be able to learn how his master was aiding the crown’s worse foe.
“Your honor will not be compromised,” Volmar said shortly.
He sent a page for pen and ink and signed the scrolls one after another, hardly bothering to read them, and hurried off, D’Krikas’ speculative gaze hot on his back.
Carlotta never looked up from her scrying mirror as he entered, but Volmar knew she could tell perfectly well by her arcane senses who he was.
“I don’t believe it.” The sorceress straightened in her chair, voice sharp with disbelief.” I simply don’t believe it”
“Don’t believe what?” Volmar craned his neck, trying his best to see past the woman to the mirror. But to his frustration, what he could see of the images looked, to his non-sorcerous sight, like nothing more than blurs of color swirling on the smooth surface. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”
“That ridiculous nuisance of a boy just killed Alatan!”
“The sorcerer?” Volmar gasped. “But that’s impossible! The boy is just a bardling, a nothing! Come now, Carlotta, from what I’ve seen of him, he couldn’t have managed enough Bardic Magic, or any other kind of magic strong enough to—”
“He threw a rock.” Each word was savagely bitten off. “It was the Dark Elf who did the rest. Ann, damn him, damn them both!” She glanced sharply up at Volmar. “You would include a Dark Elfin the party!”
“Hey now, don’t blame me!” the count exclaimed. “It wasn’t my idea. Not mine alone, anyhow. We both agreed having one of that cursed breed in the group would help discredit the unholy elven lot.”
“Unholy, is it?” Carlotta purred, her eyes narrowing to green slits. “In all the years I’ve known you, Volmar, you’ve never yet been able to shed this obsessive hatred of the elf-kind. It is beginning to grow quite .—wearisome.”
Oh Powers. He’d forgotten all about her being half of fairy blood. Horrified, Volmar remembered the woman’s quick temper, and realized he might just have doomed himself.
“I d-don’t,” he stammered, struggling to find the words to soothe her, “I didn’t—I—I mean ...”
Ignoring his helpless attempts at placation, she returned to studying her mirror.
“Poor Alatan,” Carlotta murmured after a moment, without a hint of softness in her voice. “Poor fool. For all your Power, you never could control the weaknesses within your own mind. You let yourself be haunted all these many years by the memory of flame. And now the fire has snared you after all.” Her chuckle was soft and chillingly cold. “What a pity.”
She was silent for a moment longer, staring into the mirror. Volmar stood frozen, hardly daring to breathe, wondering what other bad news the woman was going to announce.
He jumped when Carlotta straightened with a sharp little cry. “So-o! Is that the way of it?” She glanced quickly up at the count again, one eyebrow raised in surprise—”It appears that at least the late Alatan managed to take the Dark Elf with him.”
“Did he, now?” Volmar breathed an inner sigh of relief. “One less would-be hero to concern us.”
With a wave other hand and a commanding Word, Carlotta banished the images, and got restlessly to her feet “Yes, one dead elf, but the others remain. And with that cursed hunter, that warrior-woman, to guide them, such a small party is going to be able to elude almost anything.”
Well now, wasn’t this interesting! For once the mighty Carlotta seemed to actually be at a loss! Her pet necromancer’s death must have shaken her more than she’d admitted.
Volmar straightened in dour delight. Good. Let her know for a change what it felt like to be uneasy and unsure. And in the meantime, let him at last take charge of the situation!
“Never mind,” the count said, his voice gentle with false concern. “Let them come.”
She glared at him. “Have you gone mad?”
“Please. Hear me out Don’t, hinder them, I say.” Volmar smiled at her, enjoying her confusion. “Who knows? While the boy is here, perhaps he’ll find that elusive manuscript for us.”
“Yes. but—”
“Carlotta, my dear princess, you worry too much.”
“Don’t patronize me.” It was all the more alarming for having been quietly said.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Ah, but you did.”
He could have sworn she hadn’t done anything more than raise a hand. But suddenly Volmar was——. nowhere, floating helplessly in empty grayness with no sense of up, no down, no light; or dark or life ... Choking, the count fought in vain to breathe, but oh gods, there was no air here, either. His lungs were aching, his heart was pounding painfully, he was dying ....
Carlotta, no! Please, no!
All at once there was a real world about him once more. All at once he was fallen to hands and knees on a hard stone floor, able to think of nothing but drawing air into his lungs.
After a time, Volmar realized he was back in his casde, with Carlotta standing over him, face impassive. “Never underestimate me, either,” she murmured.
The count dragged himself to his feet, collapsing into a chair, bathed in cold perspiration. “Never,” he echoed weakly.
Illusion. It had to have been illusion. He couldn’t have actually left this realm. He couldn’t really have just been trapped in—in that deadly emptiness.
Volmar took a deep breath. “You misunderstand me.” He forced a ghost of sincerity into his voice. “I never meant to belittle you. Nor,” the count added honestly, “to deny your powers.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow, then smiled sweetly.
“No. You wouldn’t dare, would you? All right.
Continue.”