Morgawr by Terry Brooks

Sen Dunsidan took a deep breath to steady himself. “I understand.”

The other said nothing further for a moment, then moved out from the deep shadows to the edges of the light. “I am called the Morgawr. I am mentor to the Ilse Witch.”

“Ah.” The Minister of Defense nodded. He had not been wrong about the similarities of appearance.

The cloaked form moved a little closer. “You and I are about to form a partnership, Minister. A new partnership, one to replace that which you shared with my pupil. She no longer has need of you. She will not come to see you again. But I will. Often.”

“Does she know this?” Dunsidan asked softly.

“She knows nowhere near as much as she thinks.” The other’s voice was hard and low. “She has decided to betray me, and for her infidelity she will be punished. I will administer her punishment when I see her next. This does not concern you, save that you should know why you will not see her again. All these years, I have been the force behind her efforts. I have been the one who gave her the power to form alliances like the one she shared with you. But she breaches my trust and thus forfeits my protection. She is of no further use.”

Sen Dunsidan took a long pull on his ale and set the glass aside.

“You will forgive me, sir, if I voice a note of skepticism. I don’t know you, but I do know her. I know what she can do. I know what happens to those who betray her, and I do not intend to become one of them.”

“Perhaps you would do better to be afraid of me. I am the one who stands here in front of you.”

“Perhaps. But the Dark Lady has a way of showing up when least expected. Show me her head, and I will be more than happy to discuss a new agreement.”

The cloaked figure laughed softly. “Well spoken, Minister. You offer a politician’s answer to a tough demand. But I think you must reconsider. Look at me.”

He reached up for his hood and pulled it away to reveal his face. It was the face of the Ilse Witch, youthful and smooth and filled with danger. Sen Dunsidan started in spite of himself. Then the girl’s face changed, almost as if it were a mirage, and became Sen Dunsidan’s—hard planes and edges, piercing blue eyes, silvery hair worn long, and a half smile that seemed ready to promise anything.

“You and I are very much alike, Minister.”

The face changed again. Another took its place, the face of a younger man, but it was no one Sen Dunsidan had ever seen. It was nondescript, bland to the point of being forgettable, devoid of interesting or memorable features.

“Is this who I really am, Minister? Do I reveal myself now?” He paused. “Or am I really like this?”

The face shimmered and changed into something monstrous, a reptilian visage with a blunt snout and slits for eyes. Rough, gray scales coated a weathered face, and a wide, serrated mouth opened to reveal rows of sharply pointed teeth. Gimlet eyes, hate-filled and poisonous, glimmered with green fire.

The intruder pulled the hood back into place, and his face disappeared into the resulting shadows. Sen Dunsidan sat motionless in his chair. He was all too aware of what he was being told. This man had the use of a very powerful magic. At the very least, he could shape-shift, and it was likely he could do much more than that. He was a man who enjoyed the excesses of power as much as the Minister of Defense did, and he would use that power in whatever way he felt he must to get what he wanted.

“I said we were alike, Minister,” the intruder whispered. “We both appear as one thing when in truth we are another. I know you. I know you as I know myself. You would do anything to further your power in the hierarchy of the Federation. You indulge yourself in pleasures that are forbidden to other men. You covet what you cannot have and scheme to secure it. You smile and feign friendship when in truth you are the very serpent your enemies fear.”

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