Yet she had found someone who, in her view, had suffered even more. What monstrous events, then, lay in the past of Klikitagh?
Huskily he said, “Tell me his tale.”
“Let it begin,” she said after reflection, “with the reason why he took offense at your offer of free lodging. I know you’d not have made it had you not expected quid pro quo. It’s all, of course, beside the point, but what he might be able to teil you of his mother tongue would be quite useless. Whether he can write I’ve not inquired; the same applies.”
“Still, knowledge of any distant language-“
“Even a dead one? Dead for centuries?”
“What?” Melilot jolted forward on his chair, one careless elbow over- setting his mug-but it was empty, and he lacked the energy to rise and fill it for himself.
“Do you not believe there were great magicians in the past?” Jarveena challenged.
“You mean . . .” Melilot sank back slowly into his usual pot-bellied slouch, staring into nowhere.
“Out with it!”
“He’s under an immortality spell?”
“That’s only the half of it. Don’t imagine you should envy him!”-in a sharp tone of warning. “On the contrary! He is the most pitiable creature I have ever met, and in your service 1 have traveled back and forth across the whole known world. Is that not so?”
Melilot nodded dumbly.
“Then listen.” She leaned toward the fire with chin on fists; the flames made patterns of darkness dart across her face and body. “What lies on him is no mere spell, but a tremendous curse. In it consists the reason why he was angry when you offered him lodging. He cannot accept. Nor will he eat your dinner tomorrow or on any other evening. You see . . .”