“Something like that.” More than anything, the ruler of Ehl-Larimar sounded amused. Peregriff was at a loss to know how to proceed.
“You want no special measures carried out, no extra guards posted either in the city, here at the fortress, nor even in your private quarters?”
“Peregriff, calm yourself. Should anything untoward occur, and it will not, no blame will accrue to you. I know perfectly well what I am doing. If the augury of the Worm turns out to be true, no harm can befall me. If it turns out to be false, no harm can befall anyone else. I await with anticipation the resolution of this conundrum that has so bedeviled my thoughts for far too long. You will see.” He sipped from his glass. “Life will continue not as before, but better than ever. You have my word on it.” He extended the chalice.
Automatically, the general picked up his and touched it to that of his master. In the placid light of midday their glasses clinked musically. Even as he swallowed the wood-tinged blood of the grape, Peregriff wondered what it was that he was toasting.
He was overlooking something, he knew. Priding himself as he did on his thorough knowledge of everything that went on both in the castle and in government, the omission was maddening. It was good that Hymneth seemed content, but the general knew all too well how rapidly and radically his master’s moods could change. That insight had kept him alive and prospering far beyond the time of uncounted colleagues in the service of the Possessed who had long since fallen by the wayside.