Again Hattim nodded. “By custom, aye. And likely eager to see
Estrevan once more.”
And she, too, wears the blue stone?
“When last I saw them,” Hattim
confirmed, “both wore the talismans.”
Ashar
nodded in turn, eyes that seemed to open on reeking fomaces thoughtful.
So be it. You may leave me.
The shade that was now Hattim
shifted reluctantly, risking a glance at that face he dared not observe
directly. “Shall I be freed of this?”
He
gestured at his surroundings and Ashar chuckled afresh, shaking his head. Never. This is what you chose when you failed me.
“I?”
Despair lent Hattim courage, though his voice emerged a thin, wailing cry. “It
was not I, but Taws who failed you.”
No matter, Ashar returned cheerfully. This
is your lot for all eternity.
Tears formed in the lusterless eyes
of the shade, running slow down the hollowed cheeks. The shoulders slumped
deeper than before and Hattim Sethiyan turned about, walking back into the
shifting mist that folded about him in a gray cloak of despondency. Ashar
watched him go, the taste of despair delicious to his godly senses, then issued another summons, this one met with a degree of
resistance that the god quelled with a thought, bringing the one he required
slowly as Hattim from the swirling mist. There was less enjoyment to be had
from this confrontation, for Darr lacked the Galichian s pride, that
overweening ambition that lent such a delightful tang to Hattim’s despond, and
the god knew that the shade of the former king retained a faith in the Lady that
succored his ghost in this place of lost hope. Sometime he would spend more
time with Darr, teach the inferior creature who was the true master, but for
now he needed only information. He beckoned, the motion forcing Darr’s shade
closer until it stood before him, the shimmering shape of the god towering
above the slighter frame of the once-mortal man.
I have spoken with Hattim Sethiyan. He tells
me Kedryn Caitin stands where once you stood.
Had he expected regret he would have
found disappointment, for Darr nodded and said, “Kedryn will make a fine king.”
He has your daughter for his wife, Ashar
remarked. The one sworn to serve my enemy. It seems
her vows of fealty meant little to her when the chance to rut with that upstart
presented itself. Clearly the Lady (he forced the word out) means less to her
than a man’s prick. Even now he likely paws her body; or she his. Doubtless
they couple like beasts on heat and she drinks his lust with avid lips.
“Wynett is his wife? I had not known
that. They are happy then.”
Ashar
contained the rage that boiled with Darr’s mild acceptance, the eyes he had
assumed incandescent as he studied the frail form before him, unable to prevent
the retort, Not for long.
Orbs
bleached of color, but not of defiance, answered the god’s glare. Darr said,
“Then Kedryn must have defeated your minion. As the Lady will
defeat you.”
Ashar’s
rage became uncontainable. His mouth opened, spitting fire, and Darr’s shade
was wreathed in flame, red light filling the gray air with its fury, a scream
of agony climbing from within the pyre. In time, before the shade was destroyed
and thus beyond suffering, the god called back his unholy fire, a gesture
restoring the charred shape to some semblance of normality.
No, he snarled, she will not. It is Kedryn
Caitin and your daughter who stand between me and victory and I shall have them
both. And you will help me in that conquest.
“I will not,” Darr said with simple
dignity.
Estrevan once more.”
And she, too, wears the blue stone?
“When last I saw them,” Hattim
confirmed, “both wore the talismans.”
Ashar
nodded in turn, eyes that seemed to open on reeking fomaces thoughtful.
So be it. You may leave me.
The shade that was now Hattim
shifted reluctantly, risking a glance at that face he dared not observe
directly. “Shall I be freed of this?”
He
gestured at his surroundings and Ashar chuckled afresh, shaking his head. Never. This is what you chose when you failed me.
“I?”
Despair lent Hattim courage, though his voice emerged a thin, wailing cry. “It
was not I, but Taws who failed you.”
No matter, Ashar returned cheerfully. This
is your lot for all eternity.
Tears formed in the lusterless eyes
of the shade, running slow down the hollowed cheeks. The shoulders slumped
deeper than before and Hattim Sethiyan turned about, walking back into the
shifting mist that folded about him in a gray cloak of despondency. Ashar
watched him go, the taste of despair delicious to his godly senses, then issued another summons, this one met with a degree of
resistance that the god quelled with a thought, bringing the one he required
slowly as Hattim from the swirling mist. There was less enjoyment to be had
from this confrontation, for Darr lacked the Galichian s pride, that
overweening ambition that lent such a delightful tang to Hattim’s despond, and
the god knew that the shade of the former king retained a faith in the Lady that
succored his ghost in this place of lost hope. Sometime he would spend more
time with Darr, teach the inferior creature who was the true master, but for
now he needed only information. He beckoned, the motion forcing Darr’s shade
closer until it stood before him, the shimmering shape of the god towering
above the slighter frame of the once-mortal man.
I have spoken with Hattim Sethiyan. He tells
me Kedryn Caitin stands where once you stood.
Had he expected regret he would have
found disappointment, for Darr nodded and said, “Kedryn will make a fine king.”
He has your daughter for his wife, Ashar
remarked. The one sworn to serve my enemy. It seems
her vows of fealty meant little to her when the chance to rut with that upstart
presented itself. Clearly the Lady (he forced the word out) means less to her
than a man’s prick. Even now he likely paws her body; or she his. Doubtless
they couple like beasts on heat and she drinks his lust with avid lips.
“Wynett is his wife? I had not known
that. They are happy then.”
Ashar
contained the rage that boiled with Darr’s mild acceptance, the eyes he had
assumed incandescent as he studied the frail form before him, unable to prevent
the retort, Not for long.
Orbs
bleached of color, but not of defiance, answered the god’s glare. Darr said,
“Then Kedryn must have defeated your minion. As the Lady will
defeat you.”
Ashar’s
rage became uncontainable. His mouth opened, spitting fire, and Darr’s shade
was wreathed in flame, red light filling the gray air with its fury, a scream
of agony climbing from within the pyre. In time, before the shade was destroyed
and thus beyond suffering, the god called back his unholy fire, a gesture
restoring the charred shape to some semblance of normality.
No, he snarled, she will not. It is Kedryn
Caitin and your daughter who stand between me and victory and I shall have them
both. And you will help me in that conquest.
“I will not,” Darr said with simple
dignity.
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