Enough of planning; time for action. She adjusted her projection of her physical appearance, making the face and body a bit thinner in the right places, the eyes a bit larger, the lips a bit more full, the nose a little shorter. Then she turned to him with a lazy, inviting smile and said, "The day grows warm and the road long, Sir Gregory. Might we not dismount and rest awhile?" She made the word "rest" as suggestive as possible.
Gregory registered that not at all, only turned to incline his head politely. "There is only an hour or two of daylight left, damsel. Let us remain in our saddles a while longer; then we shall camp for the night." He turned back to the road before them, his lips in a slight smile, his gaze becoming abstracted again.
Irritated but shrewd, Moraga kept her smile in place, making it even more sultry. "As you please, my lord."
The lunk didn't even react to her emphasis on the word "please!" Really, he was useless as a man, a stick, a stone, nothing more! If she hadn't been assigned to slay or geld him, she would have ridden away and never bothered with him again.
But he was her assignment, and she had already failed with his brother and sister. In fact, she had only partially succeeded with Magnus! He still lived, and the Green Witch had halfway undone all her work; Finister had locked Magnus's heart in a box of gold, but the vixen had let him know there was a key! If she couldn't at least maim his youngest brother, the weakest of the four, she would indeed be a poor excuse for a femme fatale. It was a matter of professional pride, a challenge that had to be met.
Finister didn't acknowledge that it was very much a matter of personal pride, too.
That didn't mean she wouldn't have to be careful. On the way to Castle Loguire, she had learned that Gregory's magic more than made up for the strength his body lacked. Still, she knew her own forte to be projective telepathy and that her talent was so powerful that she was able to hypnotize people into seeing her in whatever form was convenient, from sultry temptress to baleful hag—even into believing they themselves were no longer human. She was one of the few who could change a prince into a frog, at least in his own eyes, and had even spellbound the High Warlock's redoubtable eldest, the wizard Magnus, into believing he was a snake.
Of course, most men had such raging sex drives that they were eager to believe whatever she cast upon them. It would be interesting to see if she could rouse enough lust in Gregory to make him succumb to her hypnotic charms, even as his brother had. So far she was doing well—he didn't seem to question her being the plain, lumpen witch Moraga. She wondered idly if the elves had found what was left of the real Moraga yet—not that it made much difference. If she could captivate Gregory, all the warnings in the world would do him no good.
If.
She rallied her wiles for another attempt. "There is no need for us to hurry, sir wizard. The royal witches will not expect us on any definite day."
"That is true." Gregory came back out of the clouds instantly, turning to her politely—but not completely; she could see in his eyes that he was still turning over a mathematical problem in the back of his mind. "Accordingly, if I discover the presence of that for which I seek, I shall beg your leave to turn aside and investigate."
That startled her; then it angered her. Even if she had only been Moraga, she would have been an esper powerful enough to be his sole concern on this journey, and as the assassin who had maimed his eldest brother and attempted to kill both his other brother and his sister, she certainly was worth his undivided attention. "What do you seek?'' She kept her voice level, even managed to sound mildly interested. "What is it that is so vital as to be deserving of your time?"
The sarcasm was lost on Gregory; he answered gravely, "A site of power, a place in the land that resonates so strongly with my mind as to enhance my natural abilities."
Moraga had seen some of his natural abilities. The idea of their being enhanced turned her spine into an icicle. "What.. . what would you do if you found such a place?"
"Settle for twenty years or so to study aspects of psi 'magic' that no one else has investigated."
Moraga simply stared at him in disbelief. For a wizard of such ability to find a means of multiplying his power, then use it for no other purpose than research? Unthinkable!
But not for this bookworm. Moraga smiled with relief. "What a splendid task! And how delightful, to be able to do nothing but think and discover for so long!"
"Do you truly think so?" Gregory looked at her with interest, the first interest he had shown.
That gave Moraga an idea. She broadened her smile and let her eyelids droop, saying, "Of course. Who would not wish such a retirement from the world if they could have it?"
"Even so!" Gregory said, pleased. Then, though, his eyes seemed to glaze and his gaze drifted away, as though a new thought had come into his mind.
Moraga stifled a shout of frustration. The man was impossible, so completely removed from the world that he seemed scarcely human! She turned to face the road again, hoping that the gentle swaying of her horse would calm her, but it did not. Site of power indeed! Gregory was not only a milksop with more brains than sense, he was also a credulous and superstitious fool as well as a virtual eunuch! What would she have to do to capture and maintain his interest—a complete seductive striptease?
The idea was worth considering—but she suspected that she would have to spike his food with an aphrodisiac before even that would work.
She closed her eyes in concentration a moment, mentally "listening" for Gregory's thoughts. The probe yielded nothing, as had her earlier attempts, only an impervious sense of nothingness inside Gregory's mind—he was psionically invisible. If she hadn't seen his intelligence and the strength of his psi powers for herself, she would have thought him a mental vegetable, even more insensitive than an ordinary human being. Knowing he was a powerful esper, though, she suspected that his psychic invisibility was quite deliberate, an excellently wrought shield.
Perhaps she was wasting her time, perhaps her assignment was in vain—as far as she could tell, Gregory didn't have a sex drive! But she had to make sure, had to be absolutely certain he could not reproduce—though she couldn't for the life of her think of any woman who would want him.
Besides, there was always the chance of an opportunity to kill him. When they stopped for the night, she would see about gathering hemlock or perhaps some belladonna.
Of course, there was always the possibility of crawling into his bed in the middle of the night—but Gregory made even that impossible. They pitched camp and ate dinner, making idle talk—or at least Moraga made idle talk. Gregory listened politely, giving her his complete attention—well, almost complete—and asking the occasional question to keep her talking. She willingly told him of Moraga's past—it was real enough, after all, and her telling of it was calculated to tenderize the hardest of hearts. Gregory, however, only listened, smiling with sympathy and making occasional comforting noises.