“A Sartan could,” said Iridal. “I know about the Sartan. Sinistrad studied them. He was obsessed with them, with their magic. Their library is here, in the High Realms. He could never find the key that unlocked their mysteries. But he knew about them, from the writings they left in human and elven. And they had the power to resurrect the dead. Necromancy—”
“No!” Alfred protested, shuddering. “I mean yes, they... we have the power. But it must never be used. Never used. For every life that is brought back untimely, another dies . untimely. We may help the grievously injured, do all we can to draw them back from the threshold, but once they cross beyond... never!
“Never....”
“Alfred was insistent, calm, and firm in his denial,” said Iridal, returning from the past with a gentle sigh. “He answered all my questions freely, if not fully. I began to think that I had been mistaken. That you were only wounded.
“I know,” she said, seeing Hugh’s bitter smile. “I know the truth now. I knew it then, I think, but I didn’t want to believe it, for Alfred’s sake. He was so kind to me, helping me search for my child, when he could have easily abandoned me, for he has troubles of his own.”
Hugh grunted. He had little use for another man’s troubles. “He lied. He was the one who brought me back! The bastard lied.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Iridal, sighing. “It’s odd, but I believe that he believes he is telling the truth. He has no memory of what truly happened.”
“When I get hold of him, he’ll remember. Sartan or not.” Iridal glanced at him, somewhat astonished. “You believe me?”
“About Alfred?” Hugh eyed her grimly, reached for his pipe. “Yes, I believe you. I think I knew all along, though I didn’t want to admit it. That wasn’t the first time he performed this resurrection trick of his.”
“Then why did you think I did it?” she asked, puzzled.
“I don’t know,” Hugh muttered, fumbling with the pipe. “Maybe I wanted to believe it was you who brought me back.”
Iridal flushed, averted her head. “In a way, it was. He saved you out of pity for my grief, and out of compassion for your sacrifice.” The two sat long moments in silence, Iridal staring at her hands, Hugh sucking on the cold and empty pipe. To light it would mean standing up and walking over to the fire grate and he wasn’t certain he could navigate even that short distance without falling. He eyed the empty wine bottle with regret. He could have called for another, but decided against it. He had a clear purpose now, and he had the means to obtain it.
“How did you find me?” he asked. “And why did you wait so long?” Her flush deepened. She raised her head, answered the last question first.
“How could I come? To see you again... the pain would have been more than I could bear. I went to the other mysteriarchs, the ones who took you from the castle and brought you down here. They told me...” Iridal hesitated, not certain where her words might lead her.
“That I’d gone back to my old profession, as if nothing had happened. Well, I tried to pretend it hadn’t,” Hugh said grimly. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate having me show up on your doorstep.”
“It wasn’t like that. Believe me, Hugh, if I had known—” She couldn’t quite see where that was going either and fell silent.
“Known that I’d turned into a drunken sot, you would have been glad to give me a few barls and a bowl of soup, and a place to sleep in your stable? Well, thanks, Lady, but I don’t need your pity!”
He stood up, ignored the pain that shot through his head, and glared down at her.
“What do you want of me?” he snarled, teeth clenched over the pipe stem. “What can I do for Your Ladyship?”
She was angry in her turn. No one—especially drunken, washed-up assassins—spoke to a mysteriarch like that. The rainbow eyes glittered like the sun through a prism. She rose to her feet, drew herself up in offended dignity.
“Well?” he demanded.
Looking at him, seeing his anguish, she faltered, “I suppose I deserved that. Forgive me—”
“Damn it!” Hugh cried, nearly biting the pipe stem in two. His jaws ached with the strain. He slammed his fist on the table. “What the devil do you want with me?”
She was pale. “To... to hire you.”
He regarded her silently, grimly. Turning away from her, he walked over to the door, stared at the closed panel.
“Who’s the mark? And keep your voice down.”
“There is no mark!” Iridal replied. “I have not come to hire you to kill. My son has been found. He is being held hostage by the elves. I intend to try to free him. And I need your help.”
Hugh grunted. “So that’s it. Where’ve the elves got the kid?”
“In the Imperanon.”
Incredulous, Hugh turned, stared at Iridal. “The Imperanon? Lady, you need help, all right.” Taking his pipe from his mouth, he pointed it at her. “Maybe someone should lock you up in a cell...”
“I can pay you. Pay you well. The royal treasury—”
“—doesn’t hold enough,” said Hugh. “There’s not enough barls in the world that could pay me to march into the heart of the enemy empire and fetch back that little—”
The flare of her rainbow eyes warned him not to proceed.
“Obviously I have made a mistake,” she said coldly. “I will trouble you no further.”
She walked toward the door. Hugh remained standing in front of it, blocking it, did not move.
“Step aside,” she ordered.
Hugh put the pipe back in his mouth, sucked on it a moment, regarded her with grim amusement. “You need me, Lady. I’m the only chance you’ve got. You’ll pay me what I ask.”
“What do you ask?” she demanded.
“Help me find Alfred.”
She stared at him, shocked into silence. Then she shook her head. “No... that’s not possible! He’s gone. I have no way of finding him.”
“Maybe he’s with Bane.”
“The other is with my son. Haplo, the man with the blue skin. And if Haplo is with Bane, Alfred is not. They’re bitter enemies. I can’t explain, Hugh. You wouldn’t understand.”
Hugh flung his pipe to the floor. Reaching out, he caught hold of her, gripped her arms hard.
“You’re hurting me,” she protested.
“I know. I don’t give a damn. You try to understand, Lady,” said Hugh.
“Imagine you’ve been blind from birth. You’re content in a world of darkness, because you know nothing different. Then, suddenly, you’re given the gift of sight. You see all the wonders you’ve never even been able to imagine—the sky and trees, clouds and the Firmament. And then, suddenly, the gift is ripped away. You’re blind again. You’re plunged back into darkness. But this time, you know what you’ve lost.”
“I’m sorry,” whispered Iridal. She started to lift her hand, to touch his face.
Hugh flung her back. Angry, ashamed, he turned away.
“I agree to the bargain,” she said softly. “If you do this for me, I’ll do what I can to help you find Alfred.”
Neither spoke for a moment, neither was able.
“How much time do we have?” he asked gruffly.
“A fortnight. Stephen meets then with Prince Rees’ahn. Though I don’t think the Tribus elves know about...”
“The hell they don’t, Lady. The Tribus don’t dare let that meeting come off. I wonder what they had in mind before that kid of yours fell into their hands? Rees’ahn’s smart. He’s survived three assassination attempts by their special guard, the ones they call the Unseen. Some say the prince is being warned by the Kenkari...”
Hugh paused, pondered. “Now that gives me an idea.” He fell silent, felt about his clothing for his pipe, forgetting he’d thrown it from him.
Iridal reached down, picked it up, handed it to him. He took it from her almost absentmindedly, fished some stregno out of a greasy leather pouch, and stuffed it into the bowl. Walking to the fire grate, he lifted a glowing coal with a pair of tongs, touched the coal to the bowl. A thin trail of smoke rose, bringing with it the acrid odor of the stregno.