TRY IT AGAIN,” Triana urged, and Mero frowned, though she knew it was not at her. His frown was for the smooth quartz river-pebble on the cool surface of the white marble table in front of him.
Nothing much was happening to it, which was the problem. Mero was having trouble mastering the illusion-spell.
Triana reminded herself not to look bored, and concentrated on keeping her expression interested and eager. “I—” she began.
Mero interrupted her. “Just a moment! I think I’ve got it here…”
The river pebble began to glow, a soft, pale gold that was barely discernible from the sunlight streaming in through the windows behind him. The glow brightened for a moment, then vanished altogether.
But the pebble continued to shine—the reflected sheen of light off the lustrous surface of polished gold.
To all appearances, the plain quartz pebble had been replaced by an identical roundel of solid gold.
“Excellent!” Triana applauded. “That’s it exactly! You’ve done it, you’ve built a perfect illusion!” Shadow looked up and beamed at her with pride. “Before long, you’ll be a match for any of us.” Inwardly she was laughing; he had all but abandoned his wizard-powers and was concentrating entirely on those magics he inherited from his elven blood. His attempts to make himself wholly elven were nothing short of hilarious.
He was like the overseers and the others, she thought with contempt. Fools who spent all their time trying to become something they weren’t—wasting their efforts in trying to find a “trick” that would make their magic stronger. She’d seen them use everything from vegetarian diets to celibacy to taking up some of the old human religions. And all that time that they were wasting, they could have been using to discover what it was they did best and strengthen that . If Mero had any sense at all, he’d be learning how to combine his magics, not denying he had the wizard-powers altogether.
Not that it really mattered. What was important was that her hold over him had continued undiminished. There had been no damage done to the glamorie after that incident with Laras. If anything, her power over him was stronger than ever.
She continued to praise his puny effort, while he basked in the warmth of her approval, and banished, then reinstated the illusion. Perhaps she would turn the other three over to the elders. If she engineered this right, it would look as if they were discovered from outside. She could hide Mero, and let Cheynar’s people take away the others—then he wouldn’t have anyone to turn to but her.
She smiled over his shoulder, at the trees beyond the windows. That wasn’t a bad plan at all; in fact, she ought to be able to accomplish it easily enough by having Cheynar’s people descend while she and Mero were off riding or hunting.
And it was something she was going to have to do, to put his cousin and those others completely out of his reach. If she didn’t get them out of here, Mero was never going to sever his ties completely with them. She felt it in her bones.
And then, once she had him isolated—she would throw him to the harem pack. He’d come out on top, but he’d have to use all of his abilities to do it. Including wizard-powers. That would keep him busy enough that he wouldn’t have time to think about Valyn and the others.
She found herself looking very much forward to it, as she nodded and spoke empty words of praise.
It would be most amusing…
Shana grabbed Mero’s arm as he passed, pulling him into the library before he could protest or pull away from her. She shut the door quickly, locked it, and turned, pressing her back up against it.
He stood where she had left him, a look of bored tolerance on his face. “All right, Shana,” he said, with weary patience. “What’s all this nonsense about? What is it Triana is supposed to have done now?”
“It isn’t what she’s done, it’s what she’s going to do,” Shana replied angrily, tossing her hair out of her eyes. “She’s moving you into a suite of rooms of your own, isn’t she? Right next to hers!
Shadow shrugged carelessly, and Shana wanted to strangle him. He folded his arms over his chest, and sighed theatrically before replying. “I suppose there’s no use in denying it if you already know. So what?”
The bored expression on his face made her angry, and caused her to blurt out the first thing that came into her head. “So she’s separating us from you, that’s what! We hardly even see you anymore! She wants to keep you away from us so she can manipulate you—why, you haven’t said more than two words to Valyn in weeks!” That wasn’t what she’d intended to say. She had intended to sound a little more reasonable, but she couldn’t stop herself.
She noticed that he looked a little shamefaced when she’d mentioned Valyn, but otherwise he seemed unmoved.
“She doesn’t want you to have anything to do with us, Mero,” she continued, trying to make him react, trying to penetrate his indifference. “She’s going to betray us, I know she is, all of us but you—and then she’s going to use you—”
A look of disgust was her only reward, and he interrupted her impassioned speech. “I can appreciate that you’re concerned about me, but I don’t think that’s what’s really bothering you right now. You’re just jealous, Shana. She’s beautiful and well-bred—everything you aren’t —and you’re just jealous of her!” While she dropped her jaw in outrage over this injustice, he continued on, relentlessly. “I’m sorry for you, I really am; she’d be perfectly willing to be your friend—if you weren’t so sure there was something wrong with her just because she’s so lovely! You know, in a lot of ways she admires you—she thinks it’s really fascinating how strong and self-reliant you are. You could be her friend, Shana, if you weren’t so eaten up with envy!”
Shana clenched her fingers into white-knuckled fists, and felt her ears burn with mingled shame and fury. Shame—because she was jealous of Triana; how could she not be? Triana was exquisite, and standing next to her, Shana felt like a young heifer with muddy feet and a tangled tail. But fury because the elven maiden had taken Shadow in so completely. There was no way Triana wanted to be friends! The so-called overtures she had made were all as phony as a glass ruby. Every one of them had been poisoned sweets—with mockery beneath the gentle words. But no one—or at least, no one male—was going to believe that. They wouldn’t look any deeper than the surface.
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” she retorted angrily. “It’s what you’re doing to the rest of us! We’re supposed to be finding ways to help the humans and the halfbloods, but we haven’t done one single thing since we got here—because you have been spending all your time with her! You’ve been ignoring your wizard magics, trying to show off for her. I know you haven’t been learning anything about combining your powers—you’ve let it all go to waste, everything I tried to show you. And I’m telling you, Shadow, she’s going to betray us, you—all of us!”
As she searched his face for any sign that he’d actually heard her words, she felt herself being tempted to use her mental powers on him. If she could just force him to pay attention—and if he wouldn’t, she could probably control him—
“This is childish,” Mero declared loftily. “I’m not going to waste another moment of time on your infantile accusations.”
He reached forward and caught her arm before she could pull away. “And don’t try your wizard tricks on me—” he warned, as he took a firmer grip on her arm and forced her away from the door. “I’m ready for them, and you won’t get anywhere.”
And with that, he turned the lock and let himself out, slamming the door shut and leaving her fuming behind him.
She wanted to kick, scream, run after him and beat some sense into his head. She did none of these things. Instead, she forced herself to calm down to a point where she could think, taking deep breaths and deliberately emptying her mind, as the flush left her cheeks and ears, and her icy hands warmed.
She had to think objectively about this, she decided, when she had sufficiently calmed down. She went over to her favorite chair in the library and curled up in it, watching the tops of the trees tossing below her, as a high, warm wind whipped them, the kind of wind that heralded a storm. All right—if she kept an eye on Triana, there was nothing she could do that Shana and Keman together couldn’t escape from. At least, I don’t think there is . If they both watched her, they could get away. If Valyn wouldn’t believe her, too bad for him. She’d get him away when Triana betrayed them all and then he’d believe her.
She indulged in a brief daydream of tearing Valyn out of the hands of Cheynar’s men and escaping into the night with him—of his gratitude afterwards—
But reality intruded, and a stab of pain at the way Shadow had treated her. I am jealous of Triana; Shadow’s right . The way she manipulated and used him was sickening—she drained him without his knowing, otherwise he’d be farther along with his magic by now—
She suddenly realized something and her cheeks burned with shame. She had been using the others in exactly the same way, though not to the same degree. She’d been stealing their power, a little bit at a time—and she’d been considering using her mental abilities to manipulate Shadow. To manipulate him just as surely as Triana, though in a different way.
In fact, she’d been using her powers to manipulate a great many people in the past year.
She shuddered as she realized just how close she had come to becoming like Triana. She had learned a great deal with the wizards in the Citadel—but not once had any of them said anything about morality. The wizards were not unlike their elven parents—any means was fine so long as the desired end was reached.
And that was not what Alara had taught her.
That’s not right, she told herself fiercely. I don’t know what is right — but I know what isn’t. You didn’t use your powers to manipulate friends who trusted you. That was betraying their trust.
She took a long, hard look at what the past year had made her, and she didn’t much like it.
I’m becoming as bad as the elves. Worse, because I know better.
She stared at the frantically tossing branches, and tried to figure a way out of the entanglement that was right. Shadow wasn’t listening to warnings. Valyn didn’t listen to her much at all. Keman was completely innocent. All right, she had warned everybody and only Keman believed her. So, if worst came to worst, what could she do?
She stared at the book on the floor, the last one she had been reading. There was something she could do, she realized as she stared at it. It wasn’t entirely ethical, but it was an elegant solution—
She could—she thought—steal enough power from Triana and the rest that she could transport all three conspirators out of there and back to the Citadel, that’s what she could do. Or at least as many of them as she could get in the same room. Which meant that she’d better start practicing the magic on small things. If she could steal enough power—
Her hand closed on the nearly forgotten amber lump from her hoard; she closed her hand around it in an automatic reflex, then took it out and stared at it—and began to laugh.
Stupid! Of course she’d have enough power! She could use her stones to amplify it! Why didn’t she think of that before? Because I was so busy being jealous of Triana, that’s why .
And that was an entirely elegant solution. She could drain enough from Triana alone to take them to the Citadel—and that would leave the elven lady helpless to follow or detain them.
If she was going to do it, she’d better start practicing now. She looked up as the room suddenly darkened, and saw that the storm clouds she had sensed were rolling in, covering the sky like blue-black clouds of ink.
She’d better get ready to use this—because that wasn’t the only storm that was moving in.
“Indeed, Lord Cheynar,” Triana said smoothly to the image on her wall. Let others put their teleson screens in their desktops; she preferred to lounge when she spoke to someone. “I have seen some signs that the wizards you seek are on my property. Can you tell me again exactly what the reward is if I happen to find them?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I’m afraid it’s quite gone out of my head. The idea of wizards loose is terribly frightening, you know.”
Cheynar sighed impatiently and explained the relatively simple reward structure all over again. Triana widened her eyes innocently, and feigned attentiveness. “I’ll have my hunters look for them most diligently, my lord,” she told him. “I really do think they must have slipped past you and gotten onto my estate. There are too many odd occurrences—missing livestock, that sort of thing—that make a great deal of sense if you assume someone is hiding here.”
Before Cheynar could take the initiative and suggest that his men come look for the renegades, she pleaded exhaustion, and cut the communication.
Well, she thought, with a smile of satisfaction, that was certainly a good day’s work. The seeds were now nicely planted. The crop should be ready to harvest at any time.
Now for Mero—
She rose to her feet and sought him in his new quarters, the spacious, private suite she had assigned him next to hers. He was playing a game of draughts against one of the slaves when she came in, but jumped to his feet with a speed that was tremendously gratifying. The slave likewise sprang to his feet, and quickly took a place at the side of the table, ready to serve.
He was coming along nicely. “I didn’t know you played draughts,” she said, gliding across the room and taking the seat the slave had hastily vacated for her. “I used to be quite good at it, actually. I like strategy games—but then, the best kind of strategy game is the kind played with real people, like the one your friends are setting up.”
“What?” Mero said, frowning with puzzlement as he resumed his place.
“Didn’t they tell you about it?” she said innocently, and covered her lips with a slender hand, as if she had said too much. “Oh—never mind what I said. It probably didn’t mean anything anyway.”
“Probably not,” Mero said, and picked up one of his game pieces, moving it carefully, as if he were concentrating on the game to the exclusion of all else. “They’re always hatching half-fledged plans and discarding them.”
But they always included you in that, didn’t they, dear? Triana thought with sly satisfaction. They never left you out of a planning session. But now it’s beginning to look as if they’re conspiring without you — and maybe even against you.
She tightened her glamorie on him, wishing more than ever that she had wizard-powers to control his thoughts. All she could do at the moment was manipulate him through the actions of others.
She moved her game piece, and studied the dark head across from her, bent over the draughts board. She rather thought she was doing a good job of manipulating all of them so far. The special treatment, special quarters, and frequent gifts were making it look as if she was singling him out—which of course she was. And that was indubitably giving rise to a certain amount of envy and jealousy. She had been encouraging him to think of himself as being somehow “better” than the others—and that should be reflected in his behavior to them. Certainly it seemed that way. She knew that several times he had come upon the three friends talking intently about something—and that they had broken off the conversation when he entered the room, turning the talk to something innocuous.
Any creature with an ounce of perception would be certain that he was the topic of conversation the moment before. He was, of course, but probably not in the sense he thought.
As for Shana—the attention she had been giving the boy, and the concubines she’d been sending him nightly were undoubtedly the cause of the black looks the girl had been sending his way. That relationship was certainly dying, if not already dead.
Mero made his move, and sat back in his chair, the frown still creasing his brow. She chose another piece and moved it, taking one of his.
And now she’d hinted that there were plans he hadn’t been informed of. By now his skin must be crawling.
He moved again and, with a tight smile of triumph, took her royal piece. “I’m afraid you’ve lost, my lady,” he said smoothly. “What’s your forfeit?”
She smiled back, having had this in mind the moment she sat down. “I think this will do,” she told him, slipping off a beryl-set ring and handing it to him. “After all, it was only a game of draughts. If you want higher stakes, you’ll have to play a different game.”
He took the ring, and kissed the back of the hand that held it. “Perhaps I shall,” he replied, the frown gone from his face. “And perhaps if I lose, I shall think myself the winner, hmm?”
She laughed softly. “My word, Mero, you’re becoming quite the courtier! I had no idea you could be so gallant!”
He released her hand reluctantly. “I’ve never been moved to play the gallant before, my lady,” he replied, “but you can be assured that I will wear this, not as a token of triumph, but as a token of regard.”
Just as I’d hoped, you silly child, she thought with elation, as he tried the ring on each of his fingers. One of her best spells was in that beryl. Once he put that ring on, he was never going to believe a bad word about her again. And once she took him to her bed, he’d be hers entirely. If she told him to fling himself off a cliff, he would. And I think that should be the stakes in the next game or two .
“Hmm,” Mero said, when it wouldn’t fit on any of his fingers. “I’ll have to size it to fit me.” When she started to reach for it, he waved her hand away and dropped it in his tunic pocket. “Don’t worry your lovely head about it, my lady. After all you’ve taught me, resizing a ring will be child’s play. I’ll take care of it later—and don’t worry, it will never leave my finger.”
She sat back as he began rearranging the draughtsmen for a new game. Oh, I shan’t worry, dear Shadow , she thought, keeping her eyes down on the board, lest the gleam of satisfaction in them give her away. That was the last thing that she was going to worry about.
Shadow opened the window of his room and made sure there was no one in the gardens below. A quick mental check showed that there were no watchers, human or magical, lurking about either.
He cleared the table and carefully pried the prongs from around the beryl without touching it with his flesh. When the stone popped out of its setting, he picked it up in a bit of silk, took it to the window, and flung it away from himself as hard as he could.
The tiny beryl quickly sailed out of sight. The bit of silk fluttered to the ground.
He nodded with satisfaction, and went back to the table.
A cloak brooch supplied another, unused beryl of the proper size and shape. He pried the gem out of its setting and placed it in the ring, using magic to soften the prongs long enough to mold them securely about the stone. Then he smoothed out the place in the cloak brooch where it had been, inscribing a leaf-shape in the softened metal, making certain that he left no traces of his tampering.
There. He put the brooch down beside the ring, and eyed them both critically. That should do .
The past few days had been agony; it had especially hurt him to say those awful things to Shana. She was a good girl, and she deserved better than that—but he’d had no choice, not if he was going to convince Triana that her glamorie was still in place.
The knock on the head he had taken during the fight had evidently dispelled it. The first thing he had noticed was that Triana’s little affectations no longer were endearing, they were annoying. Then he had realized that for the first time in several weeks, he was able to think for himself. That was when he remembered that they had all come here only as a stopgap measure, a temporary hiding place, and that they had originally planned to get back to Shana’s Citadel, enlist the wizards in their cause, and work towards freeing the slaves and saving the halfbloods still in hiding.
None of that had happened. Instead, he had drifted into a sybaritic dream with Triana at the center, ignoring his friends, his causes, everything he had thought was important. Shana had seemed both childish and an arrogant, overbearing fool. Now, while he still found her arrogant, he realized that she was not being childish when it came to Triana. She was suspicious of the elven lady, and had every reason to be.
He’d been casual about his relationship to Keman—but after he’d had a chance to think about it, and to observe Triana with clear eyes, he’d been angry. She’d been using him. At least he could say this much for Shana, she never used him. And Triana had been toying with him. He didn’t know what her game was yet, but he was certain she had one.
That was when he decided to find out just what, exactly, she was up to—and the best way to do so was to fool her into thinking he was still enthralled and spellbound.
Even though, to do that, he had to keep up the act with his friends.
That had hurt, more than he wanted to admit. It had hurt especially when he’d had to insult Shana to her face.
He hadn’t realized until then how much he liked her, and seeing her crumple under his insults had made him feel as if he were the lowest thing in the world.
But it looked as though things were about to come to a head. Taking Triana’s hint, he had set up the chessboard instead of draughts for their second game—and she had lost. Deliberately, he was sure—he’d made a couple of very clumsy moves that could have given her the game, which she had totally ignored. She had dimpled, fluttered her eyelashes, and told him to name the forfeit. He had, naming what he figured she was expecting. After all, she’d been keeping him at arm’s length for weeks now; deliberately heating his blood, then putting him off. And now he knew why. She had been weaving a glamorie around him, and a physical consummation would complete it. She wanted to be sure that the hook had set before she brought in the fish.
“You,” he’d said slyly.
She had simpered and acted shy; he insisted. The long-awaited rendezvous would take place after dinner, in his rooms.
But that was hours from now—and he had a feeling, from the way she had hurried out, heading for her rooms, she had something she wanted to do.
Like calling someone on the teleson and telling them she had the “wild girl” everyone has been looking for.
He had every intention of finding out just what she was up to.
One advantage of being a servant, he thought wryly, was that no one ever paid any attention to what you did. The last time he’d been here, Valyn had been given rooms just like these. Shadow had stayed in the suite most of the time, unwilling to take the chance of having his illusory disguise dispelled. And since Shadow hadn’t seen the elven manor yet that wasn’t riddled with secret passageways, when he got bored with waiting, he’d gone looking for the doors into the ones here.
He’d found them, easily enough. And as usual, the passages had opened onto just about every room in the building. Now, if the ones in the guest rooms all worked alike-He examined the fireplace, and found the same little carved knobs he’d located in the other room. He twisted each of them in turn—
A panel beside the fireplace swung open without a sound. He slipped inside and closed the door after him.
He waited for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. It wasn’t totally dark here; there were peepholes that let in light on both sides of the passageway. There was a thick, wet smell of mildew, and dust cushioned the floor like a heavy snowfall. Obviously, they didn’t use these very often. He wondered if Triana even knew they existed. He suppressed a sneeze and moved cautiously towards his goal, doing his best to disturb the dust as little as possible, holding his handkerchief to his mouth and nose to give him something to filter the dust.
Triana wasn’t the type to want to go to an office every time she needed to talk to someone. Her teleson was probably in her room.
It was a good thing that his goal wasn’t too far away—as careful as he had been, he was still kicking up dust. The air was full of it, and not all of it was being filtered out by the handkerchief.
This would be his bedroom—his dressing room—Triana’s bathroom—He heard voices once he reached the area of Triana’s rooms. Triana’s—and one other. It sounded like simple conversation, not the voice of someone giving orders to a subordinate. It could be Triana talking to Valyn, but he didn’t think it was. The voice sounded too deep to be Valyn’s.
He hurried his steps a little—and in a few moments more he was able to make out words. He recognized Cheynar’s voice immediately, and knew that his suspicions were being borne out. Triana did keep her teleson screen in her own rooms—and she was in contact with the elders.
“—enough of dancing around the bushes, my lady,” Cheynar was growling, as Shadow stifled another sneeze and stopped where he was. “Let’s get to the point, shall we? Do you have news of these renegades, or not?”
Shadow froze, hardly daring to breathe. So Triana had been talking to Cheynar about them being here! Shana was right; she had intended to betray them all along.
“Well, my lord,” Triana said slowly, “there is certainly someone living in my woods—if not your renegades, then certainly some other wild humans. I confess, they are too clever for me or my men, and I would appreciate your help in flushing them out.”
Shadow touched carefully at her thoughts, and heard her thinking,: I’ll put together a hunting party, and lose them, then double back and meet Cheynar’s people. I probably ought to put Mero to sleep though, and hide him somewhere until they’ve gone. He’d probably try to rush to the rescue, or something equally heroic and stupid. And he hasn’t even begun to outlive his usefulness to me .:
“That’s easily done,” Cheynar replied. “I can be there in two days. Is that soon enough?”
“Perfect, my lord,” Triana told him, her voice bright with satisfaction. And thought: .-That’s more than enough time to set everything up, including a campsite for Cheynar’s men to find, so that it looks as if three of them been living there for some time. I wonder how Dyran is going to react to discovering his son is a renegade ?:
“Then I will see you in two days’ time, my lady,” Cheynar said.
“You certainly will, my lord,” Triana told him. “You certainly will.”
Outside, a full moon sailed peacefully and serenely over the treetops. Inside, in the suite shared by Shana and Keman, there was anything but peace.
“I’m not being stupid, and I’m not being overly sensitive,” Shana said patiently, doing her level best not to fly into a temper in the face of Valyn’s skepticism. “And I swear to you, I am absolutely not saying these things because I’m jealous of Triana. You heard Keman! You heard what Mero told him! He is completely unbiased, and he certainly doesn’t have any reason to feel threatened just because Triana has a pretty face.”
“I would have said,’seductive nature,’“ Keman put in, unhelpfully.
Shana stifled a groan. She had been trying to keep that particular aspect of their erstwhile hostess out of the conversation, knowing what it would do to her credibility.
Valyn reacted predictably. He put on that superior expression she hated so much, and said, in a tone that just oozed sweet reason, “But you do, Shana; you couldn’t help it. It’s a perfectly natural reaction. And after all, you’re a guest in her house; of course that puts you on an uneasy footing with her. You feel you have to compete with her, and yet you can’t. I understand that. But it doesn’t make Triana bad.”
Shana wanted to shake his shoulders and scream at him: I’m not some animal, to be set off just because I’m on another female’s territory ! But she kept her temper in check and repeated what he evidently had not heard. “Keman isn’t a female, and he isn’t in the least threatened by her and he—”
She was interrupted—by an odd sound that made her look over Valyn’s shoulder, and the completely unexpected sight of a door appearing in the wall next to the fireplace and swinging open. She stopped dead in midsentence, her mouth hanging open as she stared. Valyn turned in his seat just in time to see Shadow emerge from the half-height door, beating dust from his clothing and coughing.
Her first thought was— How did he get back there? And her second was accompanied by a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Did every room in this place have hidden doors in it? Was that the way all elven buildings were made? If so—she would never feel comfortable in a building again! Not when someone could creep up on you unseen and pop out of the blank walls!
Valyn recovered first. “What were you doing in there?” he demanded, astonished. “And why did you—”
“I had to find something out,” Shadow said, interrupting him. “Listen, I am really sorry—we’re in trouble, I’ve been an idiot, and Shana’s been right all along.” His expression was a grim one, but he met all of their eyes without flinching. “Triana’s been after me, and I fell right into her trap with a grin on my face and my arms wide open. She put a glamorie on me to make into her own little tame wizard—and she intends to throw the rest of you to Cheynar’s people. I overheard her on the teleson this afternoon.” He paused for a breath, and absently rubbed his temple, as if his head hurt. “I’m sorry. I apologize. Now, we have to get out of here; how are we going to do it?”
“Wait a moment—if you overheard her this after noon, why did you wait until now to tell us?” Valyn asked, accusation in his voice and eyes.
“I couldn’t get away until now,” Shadow replied unhappily. “I didn’t want her to know I’d overheard her, so I had to keep on as if nothing had changed. Cheynar won’t be here for another two days. I didn’t think a couple of hours would matter one way or the other.”
“He’s right,” Shana said, surprising even herself, as all eyes turned towards her. “If he’d come running to one of us this afternoon, and Triana had been expecting him to be with her, she’d have known something was wrong. Valyn, you were out riding, I was in the library, and Keman was—”
“Spying among the slaves,” Keman supplied. “Looking for information that would prove to Valyn that you were not being unduly sensitive, Shana.” He smiled sheepishly. “I found any number of things, but it would seem they are no longer necessary.”
“You see?” Shana said, turning back to Valyn. “If he’d come looking for us then, Triana would have missed him, and we’d have wasted time trying to find each other.” She raised one eyebrow at Shadow, who nodded soberly.
“Exactly. I’ve been stupid; it wouldn’t help to compound my stupidity. But we have to get out of here now —because in a little while Triana is going to discover I’m gone, and she’s not going to be happy.”
Shana decided that she was not going to ask what he’d done. She had the feeling that his pride was smarting from this whole affair, and that he probably set up some surprise for Triana designed to salve that bruised pride. Unfortunately, that kind of “surprise” generally made for a great deal of trouble.
She should know; she’d given in to that temptation to salve her own bruised pride more than once.
“Ancestors!” Valyn muttered. “I wish you’d given us a little warning, Mero—how are we going to get—”
“We don’t need a thing.” Shana interrupted him, a grin of vindicated triumph on her face. “Just stay right where you are. I haven’t been sulking in the library, like you all thought I was. I’ve been very busy, in fact—”
Her hand sought her globe of amber, and she closed her fingers around it tightly.
“Don’t anybody move—” she warned.
Faster than a breath, she seized the power she needed from Triana, ripping it from her ruthlessly—
She fed the power through the amber, multiplying it threefold, and twisted it into the paths of the spell as she whispered the words that set the spell of transportation—
And she named the place.
“The Citadel—”
The last thing she saw was Valyn’s mouth dropping open as the room filled with light as bright and sudden as a lightning-flash—
Her stomach lurched sickeningly—
—and they were gone.
Triana smoothed her pearl-white, silken dress over her breasts and flat stomach, and preened herself in the mirror. The fabric was just barely transparent, designed more to tease than to reveal. Mero had worn her ring at dinner, and she had seen to it that the meal was one loaded with purported aphrodisiacs. Between the spell, the dinner, and this dress, Mero should be ripe for the plucking.
She tapped on his door, then let herself in without waiting for his response, and flipped the lock shut as she closed the door behind her.
She didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone, not tonight. Every indication was that Mero was not inexperienced; she was looking forward to putting him through his paces.
Mero wasn’t waiting for her in the sitting room—which was probably not surprising. He was in the bedroom, of course, and given his romantic nature he had probably left the lights turned down low, and perhaps had perfumed the air with incense—she sniffed, and thought she detected the faint scent of flowers.
She slipped towards the bedroom, and eased the door open—
“Shadow—” she whispered, then stopped, puzzled.
The bed was still made up, the room undisturbed, and both were empty.
What—Now entirely perplexed, she pushed the door completely open, and walked normally into the bedroom.
Nothing.
Not a sign of life.
He’s hiding behind the door, and he’s going to jump out and catch me—
But he wasn’t. He wasn’t anywhere in the suite.
She turned, slowly, unable to believe that someone might make an assignation with her and then not appear for it. And as she turned, she saw the small square of paper pinned to the pillow.
She reached for it, and opened it.
Amateur, it said, in neatly formed script.
Nothing more.
It took a moment for her to understand what he meant—but the moment the meaning dawned on her, she was so startled that her mind went blank—
And by then, it was too late.
As she stood there, frozen with shock, someone reached out a magical “hand” and ripped her power from her, wrenching it away from her with a force that was physical as well as magical.
Ancestors—
Her knees gave; she stumbled, then fell onto the bed. She tried to call for help, but could only gape like a stranded fish.
The only “sound” was the one of the spell that took her power, a jangle of discordances like the music of mad minstrels.
Who—she thought, desperately trying to make her body work again. How —
But that magnificent creation that had served her so well for all these years was not responding. Her legs would not move; she could barely move her arms. As the last of her power bled away from her, and she began to black out from weakness, she tried to reach out with one hand for the bell to summon a slave.
Her vision narrowed, and sparks danced in front of her eyes.
She could feel the end of it—she almost had it—
Then— sound, overwhelming—the roar of an avalanche—the crash of thunder—
The transportation-spell?
And with that, she dropped into darkness.