‘Perhaps. But you cannot kill him.’
‘There is no one I cannot kill, Lady. That is my curse.’
‘I know of your talent, Grey Man. But I mean what I say: Eldicar Manushan cannot be killed. You could put a bolt through his heart, or cut off his head and he would not die. Slice off his arm and another will grow. The Seven and their servants are immortal and virtually invulnerable.’
‘Virtually?’
‘The use of spells is dangerous. The summoning of Third Level demons carries few perils. Once made flesh they exist merely to feed. But the summoning of specific demons of the First and Second Level carries great danger. Such a demon must have a death. If it cannot succeed against the intended victim, then it will turn against the sorcerer who summoned it. If Eldicar Manushan was to summon a First Level demon, and that demon was thwarted, then Eldicar would be dragged back into the realm of Anharat and torn to pieces.’
‘That seems a good weakness to exploit,’ said Way-lander.
‘It would be. But that is why Eldicar Manushan has the boy with him. He is his loachai, his familiar. Eldicar Manushan casts his spells through the child. If anything were to go wrong the child would be slain.’
Waylander swore softly. Crossing the room, he sat down in the hide chair beside the hearth. Weariness lay heavy upon him. Ustarte sat opposite him.
‘Can he read minds as well as you?’ he asked her.
‘I do not believe so.’
‘Yet he knew I was lying about your departure?’
She nodded. ‘He would have sensed it. As I said, he is an Ipsissimus and his power is very great. But it is finite. He can summon demons, create illusions, enhance youth and strength. He can regenerate himself if wounded.’ She looked at him closely. ‘I sense your confusion,’ she said softly. ‘What is it?’
‘The boy,’ said Waylander. ‘He obviously loves his uncle. In turn Eldicar Manushan seems fond of him. It is hard to believe the boy is merely a tool.’
‘And because of this you doubt whether the Ipsissimus can be truly evil? I do understand that, Grey Man. You humans are wonderful creatures. You can show compassion and love that is awe-inspiring, and hatred of such power and vileness it could darken the sun itself. What you find hard to accept is that such extremes are in each and every one of you. You gaze upon the works of evil men and you tell yourselves that they must be monsters, inhuman and different. Because to accept that they are just like you would threaten the foundations of your existence. Can you not see that you are an example of this, Grey Man? In your hatred and your lust for vengeance you became what you hunted; savage and uncaring, callous and indifferent to suffering. How much further might you have travelled had you not met the priest Dardalion, and been touched by his purity of soul? Eldicar Manushan is not a monster. He is a man. He can laugh and know joy. He can hug a child and feel the warmth of human love. And he can order the death of thousands without regret. He can torture and kill, and rape and maim. It will not touch him.
‘Yes, he may love the boy, but he loves power more. The spells of Eldicar Manushan are great, but when cast through a loachai they become enhanced. The boy is a vessel, a source of untapped spiritual energy.’
‘You are sure of this?’
‘I sense both their energies, the Ipsissimus and the loachai. When joined together they are terrifyingly strong.’ She rose from the chair. ‘And now you must ride with the Duke, Grey Man,’ she said.
. ‘I think I will stay here and sleep for a while,’ he told her. ‘There must be a hundred men with the Duke. He has no need of me.’
‘No, but Kysumu has. Eldicar Manushan will fear the shining sword. He will see the Rajnee dead if he can. Kysumu needs you, Waylander.’
‘This is not my fight,’ he said, though he knew, even as he spoke, that he could not leave Kysumu to his fate.