Veela’s jaw dropped open with disbelief. “No one defies the Shadow King!” she said with shock. “No one!”
“Then let him strike me down,” Valsavis said. He made a dismissive motion with one hand before she could respond. “Oh, I know he could, and easily, with no more effort than it would take for him to blink one of his evil yellow eyes. But he shall not, because he needs me. And it must be a task of some importance, else he would not have sent you, rather than some lowly messenger, as he had done in years gone by. I was preparing supper. Will you share it with me?”
She gaped at him as he turned without awaiting a reply, picked up an armload of wood, ascended the porch steps, and went into the cabin. Not knowing what else to do, she followed him.
After a hearty supper of roasted kirre steaks, together with wild mountain rice seasoned with herbs, they sat down on wood benches by the fireplace to enjoy some hot, spiced tea brewed from a mixture of wild herbs. It was a blend Valsavis had concocted, and it was delicious.
“You may have missed your calling,” Veela said as she took another sip. “You could have been a master cook. Dinner was superb.”
“I master everything I attempt,” Valsavis said simply. “There is no point in doing anything by halfway measures.”
“So do it with a master’s skill, or do not do it at all?” she asked. “Is that why you have never had a woman?”
“I have had many women,” replied Valsavis.
“But no wife.”
“I have no use for a wife,” Valsavis said with a shrug. “I occasionally have use for a woman. I had wondered when you would finally ask me about that.”
Veela stared at him. “Finally?” she said.
“You often used to wonder about it many years ago,” Valsavis said, speaking as calmly as if he were discussing the weather. “I see you wonder still, though you no longer seem to entertain the notion of bedding me to find out for yourself.”
Veela’s eyebrows shot up with surprise. “I? Bed you? Why... you insufferable ... arrogant...”
“You can deny it all you wish, but it is true, nevertheless,” Valsavis said. “You’ve asked the question with your body and your eyes more times than I could count. Do not forget, Veela, that I am a hunter, and a hunter always takes care to learn the nature of his prey. That is why I have always studied people. Just as a beast will reveal things about itself from the trail that it leaves, so do people reveal much more than they realize by the motions of their bodies, by attitude and gesture. As a young woman, you had entertained the fantasy on numerous occasions. Doubtless because the Shadow King is, at best, an inattentive and infrequent lover. His passions do not flow in the direction of the flesh. But yours... well, perhaps when you were young....” He shrugged.
Veela stared at him open-mouthed, and then, to her own surprise, she chuckled. “It is true,” she admitted. “I had often wondered what it would be like to be your lover. I never quite knew why. You always were, and still are, such an ugly brute.”
“It was precisely for that reason you felt attracted to me,” said Valsavis. “Women are strange creatures. They claim to be repelled by brutish men, and yet they are attracted to their power. And the stronger a woman is, the more she is drawn to men who are stronger still.”
“Why should a weak man interest a strong woman?” Veela asked.
“A weak man may have many other virtues,” said Valsavis. “If he is weak in body and spirit, he may yet be kind and gentle and devoted. But a strong woman will always be able to control him. It is the man whom she cannot control that she is drawn to, for he represents a challenge, and the stimulation of unpredictability.”
“And what sort of woman are you drawn to?” Veela asked.
“One who is capable of gaining mastery over the one thing most women never do learn to control,” he said.
“And that is?”
“Herself,” Valsavis said.
“You are an interesting man, Valsavis. There is more to you than meets the eye,” she said.
“There is more to everyone than meets the eye,” he replied. “The trick is learning how to look. Now then, tell me what Nibenay wants of me.”
“I do not know,” she said.
“Yes, you do,” he said. “Tell me.”
Veela relented. “There is an elfling...” she began.
“An elfling?” Valsavis raised his eyebrows.
“Part elf, part halfling,” she replied. “He goes by the name Sorak, and he is called the Nomad....”
Valsavis listened intently as she spoke, telling him all that she had told the king, and what the king had said in response. When she was finished, Valsavis sat in silence for a moment, digesting what he had heard, then suddenly, he got up.
“We shall leave at once,” he said.
“What... now? But it will be dark soon!”
“The kank drawing your carriage does not need the light of day to see,” he said. “And your driver will be thankful not to have to spend the night waiting on the trail.”
“How did you know I came with a carriage and a driver?” she asked.
“I think it most unlikely you would have come all this way on foot,” he said. “And a senior templar of the Shadow King would never drive her own carriage.”
She grimaced. “Of course,” she said. “But you said the king could wait another day, and you gave no thought to the comfort of my driver earlier.”
“Nor do I now. I merely said he would be thankful.”
“Then why the sudden desire to leave now?” she asked.
“Because the elfling interests me,” he said. “And it has been a long time since I have had a worthy challenge.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But it has also been a long time since you have had any challenge at all. And you are not as young as you once were.”
Valsavis moved, and suddenly two daggers thunked into the bench to either side of her, so close they pinned her robe to the wood. He had thrown them with such speed, one with each hand, that she had not even had time to react. She stared down at the daggers flanking her and cleared her throat slightly. “On the other hand, there is something to be said for the experience of age.”
1
The door to the dragon king’s chamber swung open with an ominous creaking sound, and as Valsavis stepped through, he said, “Your hinges need oiling.”
The Shadow King turned toward him slowly, regarding him with a steady gaze. Valsavis returned it unflinchingly. He had aged, thought Nibenay, but he looked as fit as ever, and he still moved with the lithe tread of a cat. He also still possessed the same annoying insolence. Even the Shadow King’s own templars trembled before Nibenay and found it difficult to meet his gaze. Not so Valsavis. There was an irritating absence of deference in his manner, and a complete absence of fear.
“I sent for you-” the dragon king said, then paused, breathing heavily, as he felt a rush of incandescent agony sweep through him. The pain was particularly bad this morning. “Come closer.”
Valsavis approached him without hesitation, stepping into the shaft of sunlight coming through the tower window.
“You have grown much older, Valsavis.”
“And you have grown much uglier, my lord.”
The Shadow King hissed with anger, and his tail twitched. “Do not try my patience, Valsavis! I know that you do not fear death. But there are worse fates that can befall a man.”
“And I am confident you know them all, my lord,” Valsavis replied casually, leaving the Shadow King to wonder if he had intended any double meaning. “Veela said you needed me.”
“I do not need,” the Shadow King replied with irritation. “But there is a matter I desire to have resolved. It concerns a wanderer from the Ringing Mountains.”
“Sorak the elfling, yes-and his villichi whore,” Valsavis said. “I know of them.” Before coming to the palace, he had first stopped at several taverns frequented by known informers^ and with the knowledge he already had from Veela, it was not difficult to piece together most of the story and separate the probable from the improbable. “Apparently, they came through Tyr, across the barrens and the Barrier Mountains, to cause some trouble for a suitor of one of your brood. I gather it was fatal for the suitor, and the girl in question has gone over to the Veiled Alliance.”