“The officers corps and I estimate losses of at least twenty thousand, given the as-yet-unknown nature of the resistance. However, as you are aware, those losses will not be of equal proportion throughout the ranks. The highest proportion of deaths will occur among the Elite Assassins, since they are always the first to attack. Those wounded beyond help shall be put to the sword. Any remaining wounded still suitable for breeding shall be brought home, as per your orders. The balance of the casualties we expect to be rather evenly divided among the other types of warriors. Even though we have the element of surprise and the prizes that we seek shall be, as you have informed me, all in one place, due to the nature of the timing the entire Eutracian Guard shall be present. And although the Guard has not fought an actual battle in over three hundred years, they, too, as you have informed me, train relentlessly.” He paused briefly, as if unsure of his next sentence. Finally, it came. “Mistress, may I ask a question of you?”
“Speak.”
“If I may, I have two questions. First, how is it that my ladies know so much of the kingdom of Eutracia after such a great amount of time has passed? In fact, how can we be sure that the kingdom even continues to exist?” He waited to let the question sink in.
“And the second?”
He once again uncharacteristically paused. The asking of the second question, if phrased improperly, would seem to question both the wisdom and the authority of the Coven, a position in which he had no desire to find himself. Although he knew of his great value to the women in this room, he also knew with equal certainty that any one of them could kill him as easily as she could draw her next breath, and some of them would not hesitate to do so.
He lowered his gaze to an intersection of blocks in the white marble floor, searching his mind for the correct words. He must be careful in this, he knew. He raised his head, doing his best to divide his two dark eyes among the eight others that were so keenly regarding him.
“Please understand, Mistress,” he began, “my question is as much from my officers corps as from myself,” he said. “It is just that they press me constantly for an answer, and I—”
“Enough!” Failee interrupted. She lowered her eyes and slowly shook her head back and forth. Although usually controlled, she was running out of patience and had little time for a commander who could not come to the point. Time, above all, was now the Coven’s most precious commodity.
“Ask your question or lose your tongue,” she said almost gently. Succiu’s mouth turned upward into a smirk.
Recognizing her tone, Kluge dropped again to one knee and bowed his head. “Forgive me, Mistress, but what is the prize we seek?” It was only now that he raised his head and looked into Failee’s eyes. Gratefully, he saw her face relax slightly, the beginnings of a small smile coming to her lips. He stood.
Without answering, Failee’s right hand emerged from her robe and reached across the table to draw closer to herself several arcane objects. A square, jeweled box with the sign of the Pentangle upon its lid was first. This was followed by a tall crystal goblet. Lastly, she picked up and placed before herself a large amphora, also made of crystal. The amphora was filled with water. Oddly, he realized he had not remembered seeing any of these objects until Failee had reached for them.
The First Mistress slowly filled the goblet from the amphora, watching the water pour out and down. Once the goblet was filled, the amphora once again vanished from the table. The other mistresses sat quietly watching, as if in reverence.
Failee raised her right arm, pointing her index finger straight down toward the center of the thick, dark table. Immediately the table began to separate, splitting down the center. The two sections of the table turned hauntingly toward the wall, until they joined again in the shape of a long rectangle. Each of the thrones, including the empty one, also moved, carrying each sorceress around the newly formed table until they were all on one side, facing the same direction. The empty throne was in the center. Geldon, Succiu’s slave, was located at the far end of the table, still sitting on the floor, chained to the same spot.
For a moment Kluge imagined that he must be losing his wits, for the seated mistresses were facing a wall of the chamber that he did not remember being there before. It was in stark contrast to the rest of the room. Unlike the other walls, which were of blanched marble, this one was made of the most highly polished black marble he had ever seen. When he looked upon it, the black depths seemed endless. In addition he noticed that the room was beginning to further darken as the oil lamp chandeliers dimmed, no doubt yet another act of Failee’s.
Failee turned in her throne to address Kluge, who was still standing in the same place, behind the table. She waved her hand, beckoning him forward. “Commander, come to the end of the table,” she ordered. Kluge obeyed, walking in the half-light to stand next to Zabarra’s throne. Zabarra, her finger still toying with a blond ringlet, bowed her head slightly, acknowledging his presence.
Failee smiled, spreading her hands upon the table before her. “As to your questions, Commander, the proof of our supposed knowledge of Eutracia will soon come to you in the form of a demonstration. You see, there is one in Eutracia who is still loyal to us. What that person sees, I can also see. What that person hears, I can also hear.”
Kluge couldn’t help but notice that her mood had changed. She almost seemed lost in her own thoughts.
“As to your second question—that is, what prize we seek—well, I do believe that you are in for somewhat of a surprise. The prize, or should I say prizes, shall also be illustrated to you shortly by way of a demonstration. But, to be polite, the true answer is that we seek only three things. First, a woman. Second, a gemstone. And third, a chalice of water.”
Kluge was stunned. Twenty thousand estimated casualties and a campaign of this magnitude to accomplish a mere kidnapping and the theft of a gemstone? Were they insane? Any woman they desired, for any reason whatsoever, could easily be taken from the Parthalonian citizenry. And gemstones? Although he had not seen it done, he had to believe that any one of the Sisters could conjure up gemstones of any quantity and quality imaginable. He could feel his face turning red, but couldn’t decide whether it came from rage or embarrassment.
To his mind now came the worst question of all. What to tell his troops? During the preparations for this campaign he had overheard the excited talk in the barracks of plunder, gold, the conquest of foreign lands, and the taking by force of women without wings. Some fool had even begun a rumor that the surviving warriors of the supposed occupation force would be allowed to divide the conquered lands and claim them as their own. Had Kluge known who it was, he would have killed him himself. How could he ever explain to his troops the concept of returning with nothing more than these few meager demands of the Coven? And he couldn’t even begin to understand the need for a simple chalice. He took a deep breath and held himself steady, barely able to control himself while he waited, knowing that all eyes were upon him.
Succiu, in particular, had been watching Kluge, understanding and enjoying his frustration. She had seen the muscles of his left hand contract around the hilt of his sword and watched his lips press together as the muscles in his jaw clenched. As her eyes roamed over him, the tip of her tongue gently searched out one corner of her mouth, and she languidly crossed her long legs beneath her gown. Vona would not be the only one to have a visitor from the Stables this evening.
Failee lifted the lid of the box on the table. Removing a pinch of finely ground violet powder, she dropped it into the crystal goblet. Although the fluid in the goblet did not change color, it began to roll and undulate, as though a storm were tossing a small, self-contained ocean. A dense gray fog rose from the goblet, cascading over the rim and then farther downward, to collect upon the table.