"That would be most appreciated, my friend. One of the guards can direct you."
With a sweeping bow, the necromancer backed away, leaving Kentril with Juris Khan's daughter.
Her father smiled at the pair. "Atanna, I'm sure that the captain hungers. See that he is satiated."
"If that is your order," she replied with a slight inclination of her head.
Atanna led Kentril out, guiding him down a hall he had not traversed previously. Not once did she loosen her hold on him, and not once did the veteran fighter struggle to free his hand. In his mind, she could have led him the length and breadth of the kingdom, and he would have willingly followed.
"You've done so much for us, so much for me," she said as they walked alone. "I don't know how to thank you, captain."
"Kentril. My name's Kentril, my lady."
Under thick lashes, she smiled at him. "Kentril. You must call me Atanna in return, of course."
"It'd be my honor." He frowned. "Is Ureh really safe? Have we really beaten Gregus Mazi's spell?"
The smile faltered a bit. "You have secured us to the world. We cannot go beyond the area the shadow forms, but there is hope now that soon we can. Once my father is free of the other spell, he can proceed with some thoughts he has had, possibilities in which the sorcerer and the necromancer would be of much aid."
"You'd better have someone keep an eye on old Tsin. He's not the most honest of his ilk."
"My father knows how to read people, Kentril. You should realize that."
The corridor suddenly felt much too warm. The captain tried to think of another direction of conversation… and finally recalled the brooch.
"My lady—Atanna—I've got to confess that when I saw you with Lord Khan, it wasn't the first time I'd seen your face."
She laughed lightly, a musical sound. "And here I thought that I had entranced you with one single glimpse! I noted that you reacted far more than any of your comrades."Atanna cocked her head. "Tell me, then. How do you know of me?"
"Because of this." He pulled forth the brooch.
Atanna gasped when she saw it. She took it from his hand, running her index finger over the image of herself. "So long! So very long since I saw this! Where did you find it?"
"In the ruins, in the midst of the city—"
"He took it," the crimson—tressed young woman said in a tone so dark it actually made Kentril shiver slightly. "Gregus. He took it."
"But why?"
"Because he desired me, Kentril, desired me heart and soul. When he discovered that Ureh would return once the shadow of Nymyr touched this area in just such a way, he came not only to rectify his foul failure but to try to take me as his prize!"
Without his realizing it, the mercenary captain's hand slipped to the hilt of his sword. Atanna, however, noticed his action and blushed.
"You would be my champion, Kentril? If only you would've been there the first time. I know you wouldn't have let him do to Ureh what he did. I know that you would have slain the beast for us… for me."
He wanted to throw his arms around her but managed to hold back. Yet Captain Dumon could not help himself from replying, "I would do anything for you."
Her blushing only increased… and made her that much more alluring. Atanna put the brooch back into his palm. "Take this back as a gift from me. Let it be a sign of my gratitude and… and my favor."
He tried to speak, tried to thank her, but before he could, Juris Khan's daughter stepped up on her toes and kissed him.
All else in the world faded to insignificance.
Zayl felt extremely uncomfortable. He had felt so for quite a long time, almost since he and the others had firstmet Juris Khan. That no one else might have recognized this discomfort gave credit to the necromancer's mental and physical skills. The training through which he had lived his entire life had granted Zayl virtual control over every aspect of his being. Few things could disturb the balance within him.
But something about Ureh and its inhabitants had. On the surface, the necromancer could see nothing capable of doing so. Khan and his people had been thrown into a most dire predicament, the victims of a spell twisted by a corrupted sorcerer. He as much as Captain Dumon had wanted to help them, although while the mercenary's interests had much to do with the beauteous offspring of Ureh's ruler, Zayl's interest had been in returning to balance that which had been madly left awry. Such a travesty as Gregus Mazi had enacted could have threatened the stability of the world itself, for whenever innocents suffered as the citizens of this kingdom had, it strengthened the cause of Hell.
Gregus Mazi…
"Here we are, sir," the guard who had accompanied Zayl remarked.
"Thank you. I have no more need of you."
The pale spellcaster entered. As he had requested, he had been led to the library where Juris Khan had kept Ureh's greatest magical tomes, holy works, scrolls, and artifacts. In the days of the kingdom's glory, a hundred scholars of both the mystical and theological paths would have been in the vast room perusing the ceiling—high shelves for the secrets and truths gathered here over the centuries.
Now only one slight figure hunched over a massive, moldering book almost as large as himself. Even as he entered, Zayl could hear Quov Tsin muttering to himself.
"But if the rune here means the sun's power and this segment refers to the Eye of Hest…"
The Vizjerei suddenly looked up, then glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the necromancer.
"Master Tsin," Zayl greeted the other spellcaster.
The short, bearded man snorted at the newcomer, then returned his gaze to the book.
"How goes your research?"
Without looking at Zayl, Quov Tsin testily retorted, "It goes slowly when young cretins constantly interrupt it with their blather!"
"Perhaps a combination of efforts would—"
Now the elderly Vizjerei did look at the necromancer again, but with eyes that burned bright with growing fury. "I am a sorcerer of the first magnitude. There is nothing I could learn from you."
"I only meant—"
"Wait! It occurs to me that there is one thing you can do."
Zayl frowned, suspicious. "What?"
With a venomous tone, the Vizjerei replied, "You can leave this library right now and get as far away from me as possible! You taint the very air I breathe."
The necromancer's gray eyes met Tsin's silver—gray ones. Both the Vizjerei and the servants of Rathma shared some common ancestry, but neither spellcaster would have ever acknowledged such a blood relation. As far as both sides were concerned, a gulf almost as wide as that between Heaven and Hell existed, a gulf neither wished to bridge.
"As you desire," the pale mage responded. "I would not want to put too much distress on one of such senior years. It could prove fatal."
With a snarl, Quov Tsin turned away. Zayl did likewise, leaving the library and marching down a deserted hallway.
He had not meant to get into any confrontation with the Vizjerei, no matter how minor. The necromancer had honestly wanted to help, the better to see Juris Khan free.
However, there were spells and research that Zayl could do on his own, paths of which the more materialistic Tsin would have never approved. Those who followed theways of Rathma often found what other spellcasters carelessly overlooked. How ironic it would be if Zayl discovered quickly what his counterpart so struggled to find. Tsin badly wanted the magical tomes and relics Khan had promised him; it would eat him up inside if Zayl instead garnered the prizes.