Yet Reginald was immune or, perhaps, indifferent to her charms. With his good green eye, he studied her like a master tactician, no more entranced or in love with her than a general might love one of the many ballistae at his disposal. She was a mere weapon and a tool to the master of the Black Robes, and she was fine with that. The way his black eye seemed to stare right through her bothered her, however.
“Highmage Astathan discussed the situation with you, yes?” Reginald asked.
“He did,” Ladonna replied.
“Good, good,” Reginald replied. He remained silent a moment. “Your mission is threefold, then,” Reginald said. “Help the others find Berthal and his camp of renegades-”
“And capture them?” Ladonna asked, arching one of her delicate eyebrows as she did. She still wasn’t certain why Berthal should be left alive when he posed such a risk.
Reginald stopped pacing and stared directly at Ladonna. It was a warning in no uncertain terms. “Do as Astathan instructs,” Reginald said. “He has earned that right and our respect.”
Ladonna nodded. “Of course. I didn’t mean-”
Reginald waved off her apology with a dismissive gesture and continued pacing. “Besides,” Reginald said. “Astathan won’t be around for much longer. He’s old and he has his eye on another, a successor he wishes to groom personally.”
“Really?” Ladonna said. “Who might that be?”
“Par-Salian,” Reginald replied.
“Par-Salian? That White Robe who is far too pretty to be handsome? He isn’t even on the conclave.”
“After this assignment, you may well see his star rise quickly. That’s why I want you to take the opportunity to foster ties with him. Make him easier for us to manipulate if the time comes.”
Ladonna was never known for her patience or her dull tongue. She often spoke her mind before questioning whether her opinion could cost her. This was once such moment.
“So that’s why I was handpicked for this assignment?” Ladonna asked, her tone challenging. “To seduce a White Robe?”
Reginald stopped, his surprise and annoyance etched across his face. “Are you good for anything else?” he asked.
For a moment, Ladonna couldn’t speak. Astonishment robbed her of speech, and anger made it difficult to think. Reginald controlled the order, and by serving him well, Ladonna would improve her standing. More important, the other wizards would treat her more seriously. Beauty and skill were in antithesis to each other, especially in scholarly circles where the mind is prized over physical attributes. This assignment, Ladonna had hoped, would shatter any misconceptions that her ability was a purely physical one.
But it appeared as though she was nothing but a toy as far as her order was concerned. Not a weapon, but a plaything-a harlot-to seduce Par-Salian. The words slowly found their way out, consequences be damned, Ladonna thought.
“Really? And did I seduce the monsters that attacked me during the test to pass as well? Mm? Perhaps I seduced the books I studied to surrender their secrets?” she said, despite the venomous glare being leveled against her. “Perhaps I seduced Highmage Astathan when I passed his little trial to his satisfaction.”
“You forget yourself!” Reginald said.
“And your ignorance bores me,” Ladonna snapped. “Find some harlot plying her trade at the Palanthas docks to seduce Par-Salian. Replace me if you want, but I wish you luck explaining to the highmage why you need to find someone else to take my place. Especially since he complimented my skill,” she said proudly, almost to herself. “How many others will be able to claim the same? Will there be enough time for you to find out?”
Reginald and Ladonna stared at one another, neither blinking, neither surrendering. Ladonna, however, broke a sly, satisfied grin. She saw him working through the issues, deciding on the best course. His green eye was his window, but instead of a soul revealed, she could see the cogs and wheels beneath spinning and moving. What was also common knowledge was that Reginald’s ego was thickly armored. He was vain and self-centered, but he knew when to sacrifice personal opinion and face to accomplish his means. In the hierarchy of things, the Order of the Black Robes was above his own wishes, his own desires. That was what made him calculating, and that was why Ladonna knew she’d bested him.
“So,” she asked, “since I’m no longer bound to the three things you wanted me to do, I am to do two things-locate the renegade Berthal and … what was that second thing?”
“Books?” Tythonnia repeated.
Yasmine of the Delving nodded. “Yes. We know the Black Robes lost very valuable books when three from their order joined Berthal.”
“Books of what?” Tythonnia asked. She glanced around the room, her eyes drinking in all the astrological parchments and the black ceiling painted with the stars. The three of them stood beneath the Book of Souls constellation, a good omen, Tythonnia thought, given the vow of the Red Robes to stand as the balance point between light and dark, good and evil.
“The nature of the books is unimportant,” Belize said. He was fidgeting, his thumb playing with his black goatee, his eyes thoughtful-scheming. “All that matters is that they are dangerous in the hands of renegades and, I might add, with the Black Robes as well.”
Tythonnia glanced at Yasmine to see her reaction, but she was listening to Belize. She deferred to him, her gaze almost loving and respectful. Tythonnia wondered if they entertained each other in bed, then quickly thrust the unwanted image from her mind. Personally, Belize turned her stomach.
“You’re saying I should … steal the books back?”
“Appropriate them,” Belize corrected. “For the safety of everyone involved. We think the Black Robes did not report their theft because the tomes were dangerous.”
Tythonnia suppressed the frustrated moan building in her throat. Belize was being deliberately vague and condescending in that power-hungry manner that seemed to grip small men with too-big ambitions. Yasmine of the Delving was the head of her order and, as such, should have been the one instructing her. Belize shouldn’t even be there; his presence was an unwanted and annoying intrusion.
“What is it, Tythonnia?” Yasmine asked. She seemed genuinely concerned, though distracted. Her eyes drifted in to and out of focus.
“It’s just-” Tythonnia faltered, then made a deliberate effort to ignore Belize. She faced Yasmine. “I can’t do my duty if I don’t know more. What do the books look like? Are they books of rituals? Are they cursed?”
“I told you earlier, the precise nature of the books is unimportant,” Belize snapped.
“If they’re not important, we wouldn’t be looking for them,” Tythonnia said, her gaze fixed on Yasmine. She pleaded, hoping to shake Yasmine from her torpor, “Out of the three orders, we’re the ones who can’t afford to work in ignorance. We need all the facts so we can decide where the balance lies.”
“We’ve already decided where the balance lies,” Belize said, his agitation growing. “We’ve decided the books are to be retrieved to rest in our care, and as a member of the order, you are to carry out your duty without question. Frankly, we wouldn’t have chosen you to begin with, had it not been for Justarius’s injuries. But rest assured, if you will not do this, we’ll find someone else who can!”
“No.”
Yasmine’s statement was simple, strong, and without hesitation. And it saved Tythonnia from faltering under Belize’s threatening glare. Yasmine’s eyes seemed to regain their clarity, and even Belize acted surprised. He was ready to complain, but a glance from Yasmine stopped him. She was still master of the Red Robes, and he her servant.
“Highmage Astathan wants Tythonnia on this mission to provide a balance to the overly cautious Par-Salian and the volatile Ladonna. There is no other choice; there never was.” Yasmine took both of Tythonnia’s hands in her own. “The books we seek are The Scarred Path of the Gem, The Ways Lost, and Forgotten Tongues.”