“And why is that?” he baited her. “Oh, don’t tell me. Let me guess.
Your Rosha lad is too pure to sully himself with such a scheming, wicked woman. Right this minute he’s in a room somewhere in your father’s old castle, weeping romantically for you, his only love.”
“Rosha doesn’t weep,” Bronwynn muttered, her head turned away from him.
Admon Faye hooted. “You believe that?” he laughed harshly. “You actually believe he’s faithful and pure?”
“Why shouldn’t I believe it?” she roared.
The slaver’s face turned incredibly hard. “Because that’s not the way life is, little girl. And underneath that pout, you know it’s not.”
Bronwynn whirled away from him and walked over to stare angrily out at the sleazy gray sky. This practice session had been scheduled for the courtyard, but the weather had refused to cooperate, dropping showers on the keep from early morning throughout the afternoon. The snow that had frosted the ground for months had melted away, leaving behind a thick, black muck in place of the court. The change in climate made it as miserable inside the castle as it was outside. Bronwynn’s soaking practice garb dung uncomfortably to her sticky back. But if her body felt as if she’d been swimming in a swamp, it couldn’t compare to the murky wasteland inside her soul. She fought to hold the tears down, but they were there salty tears that struggled to push their way into her cheeks, to add their small contribution to her misery.
“Face it. That boy is having the time of his life!” the slaver cackled lustfully. “He’s learning things that ”
Bronwynn shot like a blur across the room to scratch viciously for the slaver’s eyes. She was no match for Ad-mon Faye. He slung her past him to ram into the wall. She slumped to her knees in pain and leaned against it. Those tears that had threatened to drizzle now fell in a flood.
Admon Faye walked over to stand above the sobbing Princess. “Get up,” he snarled contemptuously. “Get up, and pick up that weapon. I’ll teach you how to take some faide off that woman! Wouldn’t you like that? To have Ligne’s delicate neck at the cutting edge of your blade?”
Bronwynn’s tears subsided, but the hot pain in the back of her throat remained. She thought for a moment of Ligne. She focused her mind on a mental image of the woman’s mocking smile and hated her. But when Rosha edged into that picture alongside Ligne, Bronwynn’s feelings of hurt and betrayal overpowered her hatred, robbing her of the will to fight. Her tears flooded anew.
Admon Faye stepped back, a bit chagrined. He’d never seen the girl weep before, and it surprised him. As waves of despair swept Bronwynn’s body, raising the pitch of her sobs, the slaver turned his attention to other matters. He’d caused a host of people to cry in the course of his career and recognized that point when tears made further work impossible. He left her sobbing and went hunting for Flayh.
Finding the power shaper took some time. No one seemed to know where he was. Pezi suggested the library, but if Flayh were inside, he didn’t respond. Admon Faye strolled slowly through the hall, looking carefully at each of the dogs who scrambled up to meet him, but saw no unusual intelligence in the eyes of any of them. He wrapped his cloak around him and walked out into the drizzle.
As he stepped carefully around the deepest puddles, he noticed a small figure standing on the battlements above him. The man didn’t even bother to cover his bald pate. It took a few moments for Admon Faye to climb up to him. “Enjoying the rain?” the slaver asked with cruel humor.
The in “Waiting
“I was enjoying the privacy,” Flayh responded without looking at him.
“We have business to conclude, you and I.” Admon Faye frowned. “I thought you were interested in haste.”
“I was,” Flayh mumbled. “I was. Until I destroyed all possibility of my plan’s success with my too hasty temper.”
“Why, I thought you acted with great moderation,” Admon Faye mocked.
“The Council in an uproar, the conclave dispersed prematurely ” Flayh shook his head. “A tragedy. And all because of this young Tahli-Damen.”
“You surprise me, Flayh. For a power shaper you seem to have a limited imagination.”
Flayh looked at the slaver and raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”
“So the rest of the merchants know, now, that you’re a wizard. Why should that matter?”
The houses are split!” Flayh’s eyes flashed indignantly. “Nothing could be worse for business than inter house rivalry. Tahli-Damen was right about that, at least.”
“You merchants.” Admon Faye snickered. “So tied up in your cliques and Councils that you can’t see the world as it is. Take a hard look, Flayh!” The slaver gestured across Wcstmouth Plain. “The world. It’s free for the taking. And you and I, we have the power to take our share. I never played any of your merchant games, and I’ve done all right.”
“And yet you wanted a seat on the Council,” Flayh reminded him.
“On my own terms and for my own purposes. I still do. Relax, Flayh.
You’ve done no irreparable damage to your precious Council, just shook it up a bit. A power shift was inevitable, after the dragon. Your little fireworks display just let these others know what kind of forces they’re dealing with.”
“You are bold and inventive, Admon Faye, but you lack experience in dealing with merchant minds. The Council of Elders is damaged, and if it should be reconstituted in the days to come, I fear the house of Ognadzu will no longer be welcomed. Jagd and Ligne have locked me out of Chao-mo nous Pelmen the Prophet has chased me from Lamath, and our dominance in this land is threatened by this same Tahli-Damen.”
“Since when have you concerned yourself with mere business matters?”
“That’s just it. I’ve spent so much time improving my skill at shaping that I’ve let my family business fail.”
Admon Faye smirked, and shrugged. “So it fails. Don’t worry, Flayh. You can always get work as the court pow-ershaper in the High Fortress.”
“What?”
The slaver shook his head. “Pardon my jest. It just seems so out of character to see the ruler of the mighty house of Ognadzu bemoan his family’s fortunes.”
“What were you saying about a High Fortress?”
Admon Faye chuckled. “Over a year ago, the family of Pahd asked me to find them a power shaper to heal King Pahd of his laziness. They wanted Pelmen, actually ”
“Pelmen.” Flayh spat.
“He’s not my favorite either,” Admon Faye said grimly. “This twisted visage of mine is a gift he gave me long ago.”
“Pelmen did that?” Flayh asked.
“Let’s say he played a role in its shaping. But that’s another story. I came out here to—”
“Did you find them a power shaper
“The Pahds? No. Why such interest in this? I was only making a joke!”
“So you were. You were trying to assure me that our plan will succeed, in any case, and that the fortunes of my house will soon be restored.”
“I guarantee it. Perhaps these other houses do mistrust you, but with my band in control of Dragonsgate, they’re in no position to threaten us.”
“You’re unafraid of the combined might of the merchant Council?”
“Not if I have as an ally the most populous of the houses.” Admon Faye grinned back. “For all your moaning, you certainly don’t deny that you could field a formidable army from your cousins alone. And which merchant would be fool enough to challenge it, when he knows it’s led by a proven wizard?”
Flayh nodded. “You’re probably right.”
“I am right,” snorted Admon Faye. “You may depend on it.”
“I do, slaver!” Flayh said quickly. “Indeed, I do. For if this plan fails, I may be forced to seek employment elsewhere, doing dragon-knows-what. I assume your rough-. necks are already in place?”