“The Druid sent you to be tested,” he growled softly. “Tested against your own fears and superstitions. Your magic and your grit are untried weapons.” He gave a low chuckle that died away into the familiar hiss. “Panax, are you party to this game?”
The Dwarf grunted irritably. “I play no games with anyone. I was asked to see these Highlanders into the Wolfsktaag and out again. You seem to know more about this than I do.”
“Games within games,” the shadowy form murmured, stalking a few steps to the right, then turning back again. This time Bek caught a glimpse of a face within the hood, just a momentary illumination by the edges of the firelight. The face was crisscrossed with deep, scarlet welts, and the flesh looked as if it had been melted like iron in a furnace. “Druid games,” Truls Rohk went on, disappearing again into shadow. “I do not like them, Panax. But Walker is always interesting to watch.” He paused. “Maybe these two, as well, hmmm?”
Panax seemed confused and said nothing. Truls Rohk pointed at Quentin. “Those wolves would have had you if not for me. Better practice your sword’s magic if you expect to stay alive for yew long.
Bek felt the other’s eyes shift and settle on him. “And you, boy, had better not trust anyone. Not until you learn to see things better than you do now.”
Bek was conscious that both Quentin and Panax were looking at him, as well. He wanted to ask Truls Rohk what he was talking about but cowed by the giant’s size and dark mystery, he was afraid to question him.
Truls Rohk spat and wheeled away. “Where do you go to meet Walker?” he called over his shoulder.
“Arborlon,” Bek answered at once.
“Then I’ll see you there.” His words were soft and whispery.
“Now get out of these mountains, quickly!”
There was a rush of wind, cold and sharp, and a whisper of movement in the night. Bek and Quentin shrank involuntarily from both, shielding their eyes. Behind them, the fire flickered and went out.
When they looked back toward the silent darkness, Truls Rohk was gone.
Far south, below the Highlands of Leah, the Prekkendorrafl Heights, and the older, more industrialized cities, Wayford and Sterne, in the Federation capital city of Arishaig, Minister of Defense Sen Dunsidan was awakened by a touch on his shoulder.
His eyes blinked open and he stared through the gloom toward the ceiling without seeing anything, uncertain what had disturbed him. He was lying on his back, his big frame sprawled on the oversize bed, the sleeping room cool and silent.
“Wake up, Minister,” the Use Witch whispered.
His eyes settled on her slender, cloaked form as she bent over him. “Dark Lady of my dreams,” he greeted with a sleepy smile.
“Don’t say anything more, Minister,” she advised, stepping back from him. “Rise and come with me.”
She watched him do as he was told, his strong face calm and settled, as if it were not at all unexpected that she should appear to him like this. He was a powerful man, and the effective exercise of his power relied in part on never seeming surprised or afraid. He had been Minister of Defense of the Federation for better than fifteen years, and he had achieved his longevity in that position in part by burying a lot of men who misjudged him. He seemed mild and even detached at times, just an observer on the edges of the action, just a man eager to make things right for everyone. In truth, he had the instincts and morals of a snake. In a world of predators and prey, he preferred to take his chances as the former. But he understood clearly and unequivocally that his survival depended on keeping his preference secret and his ambitions concealed. When he felt threatened, as perhaps he did now, he always smiled. But the smile, of course, hid the teeth behind.
The Use Witch led him wordlessly from his sleeping chamber down the hall to his study. His study was his place of business, and he would understand from her taking him there that there was business to be done. He was a man of huge appetites, and he was accustomed to satisfying them when he chose. She did not want him mistaking her purpose in coming to his bedchamber for something other than what it was. She had seen the way he looked at her, and she did not care for what she saw in his eyes. If he were to attempt to put his hands on her, she would have to kill him. She did not mind doing so, but it would accomplish nothing. The best way to prevent that from happening was to make it clear from the outset that their relationship was not about to change.