“You could tell this by viewing him in a vision, Sire?”
“Don’t be an idiot, Pons! We saw him through the eyes of his minion. This Haplo is dangerous, intelligent, skilled in his magical art, barbaric though it may be. He honors and reveres this man he calls ‘his lord’! A man as strong as this Haplo would not give his body and mind to an inferior or even an equal. This lord will be a worthy foe.”
“But if he has worlds at his command, Sire—”
“We have the dead, chancellor. And the art of raising the dead. He doesn’t. His spy admitted it to us. He is trying to induce us to make a bargain.”
‘A bargain, Your Majesty?”
“He would lead us to Death’s Gate and we would provide him with the knowledge of necromancy.” Kleitus smiled, thin-lipped, devoid of mirth. “We allowed him to think we were considering it. And he brought up the prophecy, Pons.”
The chancellor gaped. “He did?”
“Oh, he pretends he knows nothing about it. He even asked us to recite it to him! I am certain he knows the truth, Pons. And do you realize what that means?”
“I’m not sure, Sire.” The chancellor was moving warily, not wanting to appear slow of thought. “He was unconscious when the Duchess Jera mentioned it—”
“Unconscious!” Kleitus snorted. “He was no more unconscious than we are! He is a powerful wizard, Pons. He could stroll out of that cell at this moment, if he chose. Fortunately, he believes himself to be in control of the situation.
“No, Pons, he was shamming that entire episode. We’ve been studying their magic, you see.” Kleitus lifted a rune-bone, held it up to the light. “And we think we’re beginning to understand how it works. If those fat, complacent ancestors of ours had taken the trouble to learn more about their enemy, we might have escaped disaster. But what do they do, in their smugness? They turn their paltry knowledge into a game! Bah!” The dynast, in a rare flash of anger, swept the rune-bone pieces from the table to the floor. Rising to his feet, he began to pace.
“The prophecy, Your Majesty?”
“Thank you, Pons, You remind us of what is truly important. And the fact that this Haplo knows of the prophecy is of monumental significance.”
“Forgive me, Majesty, but I fail to see—”
“Pons!” Kleitus came to stand in front of his minister. “Think! One comes through Death’s Gate who knows the prophecy. This means that the prophecy is known beyond.”
Light shown on the benighted chancellor. “Your Majesty!”
“This Patryn lord fears us, Pons,” Kleitus said softly, eyes gazing far away, to worlds he had seen only in his mind. “With our necromancy, we have become the most powerful Sartan who have ever lived. That is why he has sent his spies to learn our secrets, to disrupt our world. I see him, waiting for his spies to return. And he will wait in vain!”
“Spies plural. I assume that Your Majesty refers to the other man, the Sartan who destroyed the dead. May I respectfully remind you, Sire, that this man is a Sartan. He is one of us.”
“Is he? Destroying our dead? No, if he is a Sartan, he is one of us turned to evil. It is likely that, over the centuries, the Patryns have corrupted our people. But not us. They will not corrupt us. We must have that Sartan. We must learn how he performed his magic.”
‘As I told you before, Sire, he did not use a rune structure that I recognized—”
“Your skills are limited, Pons. You are not a necromancer.”
“True, Sire.” The chancellor admitted this lack quite humbly. Pons knew of and was confident in his own particular area of expertise—how to make himself indispensable to his ruler.
“This Sartan’s magic could prove to be a significant threat. We must know what he did to the corpse that ended its ‘life.'”
“Undoubtedly, Sire, but if he is with the earl, capturing this Sartan may prove difficult—”
“Precisely why we will not attempt it. Nor will ‘capture’ be necessary. The duke and duchess are coming to rescue the prince, are they not?”