Sen Dunsidan kept his politician’s smile in place. What was it this creature wanted of him?
“I tell you all this not to anger you, Minister, but to make certain you do not mistake my intent. I am here to help you further your ambitions in exchange for help you can in turn supply to me. I desire to pursue the witch on her voyage. I desire to be there when she does battle with the Druid, as I am certain she must. I desire to catch her with the magic she pursues, because I intend to take it from her and then to take her life. But to accomplish this, I will need a fleet of airships and the men to crew them.”
Sen Dunsidan stared at him in disbelief. “What you ask is impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible, Minister.” The black robes shifted with a soft rustle as the intruder crossed the room. “Is what I ask any more impossible than what you seek?”
The Minister of Defense hesitated. “Which is what?”
“To be Prime Minister. To take control of the Coalition Council once and for all. To rule the Federation, and by doing so, the Four Lands.”
A number of thoughts passed swiftly through Sen Dunsidan’s mind, but all of them came down to one. The intruder was right. Sen Dunsidan would do anything to make himself Prime Minister and control the Coalition Council. Even the Ilse Witch had known of this ambition, though she had never voiced it in such a way as this, a way that suggested it might be within reach.
“Both seem impossible to me,” he answered the other carefully.
“You fail to see what I am telling you,” the intruder said. “I am telling you why I will prove a better ally than the little witch. Who stands between you and your goal? The Prime Minister, who is hardy and well? He will serve long years before he steps down. His chosen successor, the Minister of the Treasury, Jaren Arken? He is a man younger than you and equally powerful, equally ruthless. He aspires to be Minister of Defense, doesn’t he? He seeks your position on the council.”
A cold rage swept through Sen Dunsidan on hearing those words. It was true, of course—all of it. Arken was his worst enemy, a man slippery and elusive as a snake, cold-blooded and reptilian through and through. He wanted the man dead, but had not yet figured out a way to accomplish it. He had asked the Ilse Witch for help, but whatever other exchange of favors she was willing to accept, she had always refused to kill for him.
“What is your offer, Morgawr?” he asked bluntly, tiring of this game.
“Only this. By tomorrow night, the men who stand in your way will be no more. No blame or suspicion will attach to you. The position you covet will be yours for the taking. No one will oppose you. No one will question your right to lead. This is what I can do for you. In exchange, you must do what I ask—give me the ships and the men to sail them. A Minister of Defense can do this, especially when he stands to become Prime Minister.”
The other’s voice became a whisper. “Accept the partnership I am offering, so that not only may we help each other now, but we may help each other again when it becomes necessary.”
Sen Dunsidan took a long moment to consider what was being asked. He badly wanted to be Prime Minister. He would do anything to secure the position. But he mistrusted this creature, this Morgawr, a thing not entirely human, a wielder of magic that could undo a man before he had time to realize what was happening. He was still unconvinced of the advisability of doing what he was being asked to do. He was afraid of the Ilse Witch, he could admit that to himself if to no one else. If he crossed her and she found out, he was a dead man,—she would hunt him down and destroy him. On the other hand, if the Morgawr was to destroy her as he said he would, then Sen Dunsidan would do well to rethink his concerns.