"My name is Gilleran, and I’m the chancellor of the kingdom of Alyndar." The blue-eyed one kept his gaze locked on the Iceman.
Kelryn tensed, preparing to fast-crawl away. The movement roused pain; and she squirmed, driving her focus to his words to avoid the pain but pretending deafness. She wriggled toward the mud creation, certain only that she wanted it out of other hands than her own. Any further movement would require motivation she did not have. The constant ache sapped her of drive, and vivid memories of the agony this sorcerer could inflict all but paralyzed her.
Gilleran continued. "Both princes are headed toward their destiny: death in tourney. The king is getting older, and l stand next in line for the throne."
Terror ground through Kelryn, lost in the wild maelstrom of fear already assaulting her. Bad enough she would surely die for no more reason than befriending victims of treason. She would never get the chance to warn the innocent prince and the loyal squire she loved.
Ritworth’s lips pursed. "A convenient arrangement for you," he conceded. "But how does this concern me?"
"A kingdom of souls. A quarter of the continent at my mercy." Gilleran’s tone created a grander picture than his words. "An endless pool from which to replenish my power as captured souls get used to decay. More spells than I could ever use myself. Some perhaps would prove more to your liking? A fair split would make us both the most powerful men in the world. Our talents and our armies could conquer any who dared stand before us. Ultimate power and every talent-soul our property. What more could any man want?"
Ritworth glanced at Kelryn just as she scooped up the mud doll. If Gilleran spoke the truth about Edward heading toward the contests, Ritworth no longer needed whatever information Kelryn could give him. "Keep that, if you wish," he told her. "Its power is spent. Try to run, though, and you’re dead."
Kelryn clutched the figure possessively. Though tight, her grip caused her no consequences, suggesting either that Ritworth had spoken honestly or only things he did to it could harm her. Better to chance killing myself than die in the agony he could inflict. Kelryn gradually winched her hand closed. The doll crumbled to dust, and no pain accompanied the breakage.
Ritworth addressed Gilleran next. "It sounds like the perfect arrangement. Why would you want to share?"
Gilleran shrugged. "There’s more here than I can handle by myself. It’s lonely having everything. Who better to split the riches with than someone who understands the hunger? Who better than someone with enough power to help defend it all?"
Ritworth frowned in consideration, his interest obvious even to Kelryn, though she could not tell whether it stemmed from avarice or some mundane or magical ability of Gilleran to sway. She shivered, no longer pained, held in place only by Ritworth’s warning and her own incapacitating fear. She had always considered herself tougher than most, yet the images of sorcerous slaying hammered at her courage until it became lost beneath the terror.
"Will you join me, Ahshir?" Gilleran pressed Ritworth for an answer. "Or do we battle now to the death? Your choice."
Ritworth sighed, obviously torn. "How do I know I can trust you?"
Gilleran smiled. "Watch." He walked to Kelryn. Once there, he addressed her. "Kelryn, pretty girl. We meet again." He held out a hand to assist her to stand.
Kelryn shied away, all her desperate fear returning. “Get away from me, you murderer."
Gilleran flashed a grin at Ritworth. "We’re old friends.” He turned back to Kelryn. "I can kill you as easily on the ground. In fact, more so. If you cooperate, I won’t harm you."
He used a sincere tone that Kelryn had difficulty doubting. Then her mind filled with images of magical slashes that splattered blood and Gilleran’s laughter as he butchered the screaming man pinned beneath him. Tears blurred her vision. Avoiding his hand, she obediently stood. She could escape more easily on her feet.
“This is how I bind my oaths." Gilleran made a broad, arching cut with his hand. Pausing, he mumbled a few guttural syllables. "Kelryn, this spell will hold us both to any promises we make. Here are the terms this time: If you find Prince Ned, you will tell him his loyal chancellor has handled the Iceman and he has nothing more to fear from sorcerers." He winked at Ritworth, as much, Kelryn suspected, to keep his attention on a potential enemy as to share the details of the spell. "You may say nothing negative about me within earshot of Edward, Leyne, or Rikard Nargol." He added with an evil smile.
"But before you leave, you must kiss me like a lover."
Revulsion restored Kelryn’s will to fight. "Beast! Demon! I’d rather eat feces than look at you."
Gilleran retained his cool demeanor. "No need to flatter, Kelryn. I had already planned to give something in return. My promise to you: this time, at least, I’ll let you go unharmed and alive. And I will do what I can to see my companion does you no damage either."
Ritworth raised his brows at this, obviously displeased.
Gilleran finished, “However, should I meet you later under other circumstances, I retain the right to act as I feel prudent. Do you agree to these terms?"
Kelryn hated every part of her situation, but most of all remaining in the presence of two sorcerers. She did not doubt the efficacy of the spell; she knew too little of magic not to believe the claims of those who practiced it. Gilleran had not made her promise anything malevolent. She could not warn Edward of danger, but she could still tell Nightfall everything and let him handle the prince. This time, she swore, she would compel her lover to listen. If she did not agree to Gilleran’s terms, she harbored no doubt the wizards would kill her in the most vile fashion they could devise. A kiss seemed little enough compared to what Gilleran might force upon her if she refused. "All right," she said carefully. “So long as your promise is included, I agree?
Ritworth interrupted. "Is that wise? Letting her go, I mean. She’s a witness."
"A witness?" Gilleran crinkled his brow. "Witness to what?"
"She knows what we are."
“No matter. She knew before. Sometimes the knowledge of others works to a man’s advantage, even when it doesn’t seem so. Trust me."
“She heard your plan."
"I’ve been with the king nearly two decades. He trusts me. No one would believe the tramp, especially when the story she tells varies in the presence of royalty."
"Still…” Ritworth started.
Gilleran shrugged off the argument. "If she gives me reason, I left us plenty of opportunity to kill her." He grinned at Kelryn with a corpse’s warmth. "I believe she’s a smart girl, aren’t you, Kelryn?"
Kelryn kept her mouth closed. She would make no more promises for the sorcerer to seal with his magic.
Gilleran muttered a few more words, accompanied by some finger movements. "Done," he said at length. He nodded at Kelryn. "You’re free now."
Kelryn did not wait for a second invitation. She launched herself from the path to the woods, taking three running steps before pain slammed her low in the belly and she collapsed to the dirt again. Something sparked and crackled, like a fire inside her, driving her back toward the roadway and the sorcerer waiting there. She whimpered, nearly incapacitated by the pain, rolling to find some position that eased the agony tearing through her. By luck or instinct, she wriggled back the way she had come, and the lessening of the magic’s urging sent her crawling to Gilleran’s feet.
"Forgot something, didn’t you?" Gilleran prodded her with a boot toe. Ritworth watched in silence.
Understanding struck Kelryn then. She could not leave until she had administered the promised kiss. "You bastard," she managed, the oath-bond now only a prickle prodding her to her feet and to fulfill the promise. She stood, torn between need and loathing. She took a step toward him. Leaning over, she granted him a quick peck on the cheek that dulled the buzzing only slightly.