For the first time, he could see the knife protruding from the prince’s chest, and the hand holding it… and more importantly, the air surrounding both.
It was shimmering.
The movement was barely noticeable, and he might have again dismissed it as an effect of the twilight descending upon the battlefields, or the heat from a fire or torch beyond the sorcerer and the prince. Now he knew better, and he wished he didn’t.
But I do know, and it is dangerous to pretend otherwise. I must do what I would recommend to another man in this situation: consider every possibility, no matter how strange—because it is better to be over-prepared than be caught out by the unexpected—then deal with the problem.
He wished he could do his thinking alone and in peace, but, as ever, he didn’t have that luxury. Now, after the prince’s corpse had been removed, the sorcerer King and his captains retreated to the big tent where battle strategy was discussed and decisions made. Several hours had passed before all were sent to their beds. But as Reny reached the entrance of the tent he heard Dael call his name.
“Stay a moment, Captain Reny. I wish to talk to you.”
As the tent emptied, the sorcerer King regarded Reny from the battered throne that was always dragged from battle to battle.
“Vorl doesn’t like you,” he said when they were finally alone. One thing Reny liked about the leader was how he always got to the point.
“I know,” Reny replied, shrugging. “I don’t like him.”
“Why not?
“He is needlessly cruel.”
“He is ruthless.” Dael nodded. “Killing is what he does, and he does it well.”
“Women and children?”
Dael’s gaze became hard. “This is war. Nobody should pretend that it is merciful to the weak.”
Reny opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it and nodded.
“He wants me to get rid of you,” Dael told him. “He says you have rebellion in you, and your scruples will lose us battles one day. What do you say to that?”
Reny felt as if someone had dropped ice down the back of his armour, and it was sliding slowly down his spine. I have a sorceress masquerading as a whore in my tent; a woman who both this army—and the enemy—think is some sort of goddess of death. The last thing I need is Vorl putting further ideas of betrayal in Dael’s head.
“I’d rather you got rid of Vorl,” he replied, frankly.
Dael smiled. “Why should I do that?”
“Soldiers are like weapons,” Reny found himself replying, “more useful in battle than hung on a wall. Advisers are like scrolls. You keep them so you can use their knowledge again and again.” Somehow it had sounded more eloquent when Kala had said it.
Dael grinned, his eyes bright with amusement.
“I like you, Captain Reny. And that’s most important. You may go.”
Reny bowed, and hurried from the tent.
RENY WOULD HAVE liked more time to think, but he suspected that time was something he didn’t have much of now. When he entered his tent and saw Kala waiting for him he felt a wave of relief, but it was followed by one of dread. And, unexpectedly, one of lust. She was regarding him with relaxed expectation from the end of the bed, with a small welcoming smile, and he was reminded once again that it was after strategy meetings that he most often used her services.
He knew that he never would again. That filled him with regret, but also determination. He drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then sat down on one of the chests.
“What are you?” he asked. “Are you really a goddess?”
She showed no surprise, but her expression became serious, almost sad, and then the smile returned. “I am no goddess. What do you think I am?”
Reny met her gaze. “What he is. What Dael is. A sorcerer and… something else.”
Her eyebrows rose and she regarded him appraisingly. “You’ve worked out more than I expected—or hoped.”
“I’ve worked out nothing,” he disagreed. “I have no idea what is going on. Am I keeping an enemy in my tent? Am I following someone … something more than an ambitious and clever sorcerer mercenary-turned-King, with a love for war and a desire to unite the lands?”
Suddenly all trace of her smile was gone. She had that knowing, worldly look again, but this time there was anger burning in her eyes.
“I am from the temple,” she said. “The temple Vorl attacked.”
His stomach plunged to the floor. He stared at her and felt guilt and pity fill him all over again.
“I’m sorry—” he began.
“I lived there for over a thousand years,” she continued.
Disbelief overtook guilt. He remembered the shimmering air between her hand and the dying soldier, and knew that he had to consider that something so incredible might be possible. If this was true… he felt the first spark of awe. I bedded this woman…
“But I am several thousands of years older than that,” she added. She looked away, beyond the tent walls, and sighed. “When I was the age of the body you see before you, I developed more than womanly traits. I aged the same as other people, but then within a day or night I’d grow young again.
“Whenever I returned to youth, I found that I could heal from an injury in an instant, and I could use magic. But in time, I’d lose those abilities and start to age again. How could this be? I only worked out why when a sickness came and many of the local people died. It took many, many more years before I started to age again.” She paused and looked at Reny meaningfully.
He frowned. “You… you can take magic from people who are dying?”
“I don’t take it. It comes to me. When someone dies, magic is released and if I am nearby it flows to me. Or if there is someone else with the trait nearby, it flows to whichever of us is closest.”
“So you are immortal.”
She shook her head. “I am sure that, if I stayed away from death long enough, I would age and die like everyone else.”
He thought about the temple, so isolated and only attended by a handful of young women. Healthy young attendees were less likely than older ones to die while serving the old woman they believed was a goddess.
“That’s why you were there,” he said.
She nodded solemnly. “I have lived too long. I am tired of it.”
His mind took a leap of comprehension. “But if death gives you magic, why didn’t you save the women in the temple?”
She blinked at the sudden shift in his questioning, then scowled. “It was their death that gave me magic. Once dead…” She sighed. “I cannot bring the dead back to life. I might have been able to heal one or two of them, if any had been alive after the soldiers left.” There was bitterness in her voice.
“So you joined the camp followers of an army, which would surround you with a never-ending source of death and allow you to grow strong.” He took a deep breath. “Is revenge worth delaying your release from this life?”
She smiled. “I am not seeking revenge. If I was, Vorl would have stopped being a problem for you months ago.”
“Why are you here, then?”
She looked at him with an expression he could not name, and it sent a shiver down his spine. “All those years in the temple, waiting for death. I felt boredom beyond what you can ever experience. One thought kept me there, and kept me from giving up and leaving. One question that I will never know the answer to myself.” She paused, and then smoothly rose to her feet. “Where does the death magic go, if sorcerers like me don’t take and use it? What do you think, Reny?”