He turned to the child. “Run along back to your sister, Arthas, and try to calm her. I’ll be with you as soon as I can, I promise.”
Arthas nodded and, with a curious glance at his father’s visitors, headed back through the door.
Terenas shut the door behind his son, then instantly whirled on the mages. “I thought I told the major-domo to inform you that I’ve no time for you today! If Dalaran has any claims or protests to make concerning my handling of Alliance matters, they can send a formal writ through our ambassador there! Now, good day!”
The pair seemed unmoved. Deathwing held back a triumphant smile. His hold on the king remained strong even when the dragon had to deal with other matters, such as Rhonin.
Thinking of his newest pawn, Deathwing hoped that the wizards would take Terenas’s forceful dismissal to heart and leave. The sooner they were gone, the sooner he could get back to checking on their younger counterpart.
“We’ll be going, Your Majesty,” rumbled the male spellcaster. “But we’ve been empowered to tell you that the council hopes you’ll see reason on this before long. Dalaran has always been a steadfast, loyal ally.”
“When it chooses to be.”
Both mages ignored the monarch’s harsh statement. Turning to Deathwing, the female said, “Lord Prestor, it has been an honor to meet you face-to-face at last. I trust it will not be the final time.”
“We shall see.” She made no attempt to extend her hand and he did not encourage it. So. They had warned him that they would continue to watch him. No doubt the Kirin Tor believed this would make him more cautious, even uncertain, but the black dragon only found their threats laughable. Let them waste their time crouching over scrying spheres or trying to convince the rulers of the Alliance to see reason. All they would gain by their efforts would be the further enmity of the other humans—which would work just perfectly for Deathwing.
Bowing, the two mages retreated from the chamber. Out of respect for the king, they did not simply vanish, as he knew they could. No, they would wait until back in their own embassy, out of sight of untrusting eyes. Even now, the Kirin Tor took care with appearances around others.
Not that it would matter in the long run.
When the wizards had at last gone, King Terenas began speaking. “My most humble apologies for that scene, Prestor! The very nerve of them! They barge into the palace as if Dalaran and not Lordaeron ruled here! This time they go too far—”
He froze in mid-sentence as Deathwing raised a hand toward him. After glancing at both doors in order to assure himself that no one would come running in and find the king bewitched, the false noble stepped to a window overlooking the palace grounds and the kingdom beyond. Deathwing waited patiently, watching the gates through which all visitors passed in and out of Terenas’s royal residence.
The two wizards stepped into sight, heading away. Their heads leaned toward one another as they engaged in urgent yet clearly private conversation with one another.
The dragon touched the expensive glass plate on the window with his index finger, drawing two circles there, circles that glowed deep red. He muttered a single word.
The glass in one of the circles shifted, puckered, shaped itself into a parody of a mouth.
“—nothing at all! He’s a blank, Modera! Couldn’t sense a thing about him!”
In the other circle, a second, somewhat more delicate, mouth formed. “Perhaps you’re still not recovered enough, Drenden. After all, that shock you suffered—”
“I’m over it! Take more than that to kill me! Besides, I know you were probing him, too! Did you sense anything?”
A frown formed on the feminine mouth. “No . . . which means he’s very, very powerful—possibly almost as powerful as Medivh.”
“He must be using some powerful talisman! No one’s that powerful, not even Krasus!”
Modera’s tone changed. “Do we really know how powerful Krasus is? He’s older than the rest of us. That surely means something.”
“It means he’s cautious . . . but he is the best of us, even if he isn’t master of the council.”
“That was his choice—more than once.”
Deathwing leaned forward, his once mild curiosity now growing stronger.
“What’s he doing, anyway? Why’s he keeping so secret?”
“He says he wants to try to find out about Prestor’s past, but I think there’s more. There’s always more with Krasus.”
“Well, I hope he finds out something soon, because this situation is—what is it?”
“I feel a tingling on my neck! I wonder if—”
Up in the palace, the dragon quickly waved his hand across the two glass mouths. The pane instantly flattened, leaving no trace. Deathwing backed away.
The female had finally sensed his spellwork, but she would not be able to trace it back to him. He did not fear them, however skilled for humans they were, but Deathwing had no desire at the moment to drag out his confrontation with the pair. A new element had been added to the game, one that, for the first time, made the dragon just a little pensive.
He turned back to Terenas. The king still stood where Deathwing had left him, mouth open and hand out.
The dragon snapped his fingers.
“—and I won’t stand for it! I’ve a mind to cut off all diplomatic relations with them immediately! Who rules in Lordaeron? Not the Kirin Tor, whatever they might think!”
“Yes, probably a wise move, Your Majesty, but draw it out. Let them lodge their protest, then begin closing the gates on them. I’m very certain that the other kingdoms will follow suit.”
Terenas gave him a weary smile. “You’re a very patient young man, Prestor! Here I’ve been ranting and you simply stand there, accepting it all! We’re supposed to be discussing a future marriage! True, we’ve more than two years before it can take place, but the betrothal will require extensive planning!” He shrugged. “Such is the way of royalty!”
Deathwing gave him a slight bow. “I understand completely, Your Majesty.”
The king of Lordaeron began telling him about the various functions his future son-in-law would need to attend over the next several months. In addition to taking charge of Alterac, young Prestor would have to be present for each occasion in order to strengthen the ties between him and Calia in the eyes of the people and his fellow monarchs. The world would need to see that this match would be the beginning of a great future for the Alliance.
“And once we take Khaz Modan and Grim Batol back from those infernal orcs, we can begin plans for a ceremonial return of the lands to the hill dwarves! A ceremony you shall lead, my dear boy, as you are possibly one of those most responsible for holding this Alliance together long enough for victory. . . .”
Deathwing’s attention slipped further and further away from the babblings of Terenas. He knew most of what the old man would say—having placed it into the human’s mind earlier. Lord Prestor, the hero—imagined or otherwise—would reap his rewards and slowly, methodically, begin the destruction of the lesser races.
However, what interested the dragon more at the moment was the conversation between the two wizards, and especially their mention of another of the Kirin Tor, one Krasus. Deathwing found him of interest. He knew that there had been earlier attempts to circumnavigate the spells surrounding the chateau, and that one of those attempts had triggered the Endless Hunger, one of the oldest and most thorough traps ever devised by a wielder of magic. The dragon also knew that the Hunger had failed in its function.
Krasus . . . Was this the name of the wizard who had evaded a spell as ancient as Deathwing himself ?