“But why the pantomime?” An unsatisfied Simna persisted. “Why didn’t you just tell us who and what you were from the beginning?”
Hunkapa Aub’s smile was as sage as the look in his eyes. “Wizards have this ‘effect’ on people, good swordsman. In the presence of one they become muted things and no longer act themselves. I wanted to study you as you are, not as you would have become had you known my true identity.”
Simna stammered angrily. “Study us? And what have you learned, maestro of a mumbling disguise, from the specimens you chose to keep so long in ignorance?”
“The best thing there is to learn about another. That you are good, all of you. Yea, even you, Simna ibn Sind, though you would argue long and hard to deny it. I know you well. You, and the great and noble cat.” Raising his gaze, he considered the lanky figure of Etjole Ehomba. “Your friend and guide I am still not entirely sure about.” Hirsute shoulders rose and fell in a prodigious shrug. “I think I will stay with you a while longer. I sense there is still more to learn from your company.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you turned out to be more than the untutored, shambling simpleton you seemed to be,” Simna declared, adding hastily, “I mean nothing untoward by that, master. Who would have thought you the more powerful sorcerer than Hymneth the Possessed?”
“Who said I was more powerful?” Hunkapa Aub’s smile faded. “I caught him unawares, after he had been tired and worn down by your friend Etjole. I did not defeat him. Ultimately, it demanded the combined efforts of both of us.”