would be a Magister, plain and simple. Is that not the very definition of our kind?”
“Perhaps this illness isn’t truly a Wasting,” Fadir persisted. “Perhaps it’s something that appears similar, but stems from another cause.”
Ramirus’ gaze was narrow and dark. “Andovan suffers from the Wasting. There is no doubting that.”
“No.” Colivar’s tone for once was brooding and thoughtful rather than derisive. “It was the Wasting, without question. I examined him myself.”
“So that means there is a Magister involved, yes? And we are back to the same problem.”
“Perhaps some woman was the initiating factor…”
Severil snorted. “In what sense? Do you suggest someone convinced a Magister to take Andovan as consort? If so she’s more adept than any of us, since I myself have never heard of any Magister able to dictate who his consort would be… or even to discover its identity after the fact.”
“So what are you suggesting—a female Magister?” Lazaroth’s tone was harsh and derisive. “I for one find the idea quite insane.”
“Agreed!” another responded, and a third muttered, “Impossible!”
Fadir nodded curtly. “If such a thing could exist we’d have learned of it long ago.”
“There are many possibilities here,” Ramirus said evenly. “Including, of course, that the witch who spoke to Andovan may simply have been wrong. Or perhaps another female intends to do the prince harm, and she picked up traces of that intent instead of the true cause of his illness. An equal threat, having nothing to do with his current… condition.” He sighed, and for a moment weariness flickered across his white brow. “Of course, even if that were the case, the damage has already been done. Danton knows of the interview, which means that probably half the gossips in the castle do as well, so it will soon get out beyond that. Andovan has the Wasting and a witch caused it… that is a bad connection for people to be making, even if the exact details are in error.”
“Someone tried to bring a woman through Transition once, didn’t they?” Kellam asked. “I seem to remember hearing something about that.”
“Someone always tries,” Colivar responded. “When they think they find the right candidate, or the right method of training… or else they just get bored. It never works.” He chuckled coldly, a sound utterly without humor. “Women apparently don’t have what it takes to devour human souls.”
“What about that one down in the Free Lands?” Se-viral asked. “That… what do they call her… the Witch-Queen?”
“In Sankara,” Ramirus supplied. Colivar noticed Ramirus’ eyes turn to him, suspicion suddenly dark in their depths. Had he only just realized that Sankara bordered on Auremir, and that in keeping the latter city-state out of Danton’s hands, Colivar was effectively protecting Sankara itself? If so, the black-haired Magis-ter observed, the stress of the situation with Andovan was clearly making him sloppy. The old Ramirus would never have missed that.
Colivar shrugged. “She’s a witch. Powerful, ambitious, dangerous as all the hells combined… but still just a witch.”
“You know her.” Ramirus’ tone was an accusation.
Again he shrugged. “She has a standing invitation to any of our kind who pass through her domain to partake of her hospitality. Have you never been down there yourself, Ramirus?” Colivar shook his head in mock disapproval. “You really should get out more often.”
“I’ve been down there,” Kellam said with a dry smile. “She tried to bed me.”
“And you said no?”
“I hear that’s not so easy to do,” Thelas offered. “I hear she has potions that can turn a man’s mind to whatever she desires.”
“ I hear she collects the balls of Magisters as keepsakes.”
And she likely has taken all of you for lovers, at one time or another , Colivar thought, though none will admit that fact to all the others . Of all the
“Perhaps this illness isn’t truly a Wasting,” Fadir persisted. “Perhaps it’s something that appears similar, but stems from another cause.”
Ramirus’ gaze was narrow and dark. “Andovan suffers from the Wasting. There is no doubting that.”
“No.” Colivar’s tone for once was brooding and thoughtful rather than derisive. “It was the Wasting, without question. I examined him myself.”
“So that means there is a Magister involved, yes? And we are back to the same problem.”
“Perhaps some woman was the initiating factor…”
Severil snorted. “In what sense? Do you suggest someone convinced a Magister to take Andovan as consort? If so she’s more adept than any of us, since I myself have never heard of any Magister able to dictate who his consort would be… or even to discover its identity after the fact.”
“So what are you suggesting—a female Magister?” Lazaroth’s tone was harsh and derisive. “I for one find the idea quite insane.”
“Agreed!” another responded, and a third muttered, “Impossible!”
Fadir nodded curtly. “If such a thing could exist we’d have learned of it long ago.”
“There are many possibilities here,” Ramirus said evenly. “Including, of course, that the witch who spoke to Andovan may simply have been wrong. Or perhaps another female intends to do the prince harm, and she picked up traces of that intent instead of the true cause of his illness. An equal threat, having nothing to do with his current… condition.” He sighed, and for a moment weariness flickered across his white brow. “Of course, even if that were the case, the damage has already been done. Danton knows of the interview, which means that probably half the gossips in the castle do as well, so it will soon get out beyond that. Andovan has the Wasting and a witch caused it… that is a bad connection for people to be making, even if the exact details are in error.”
“Someone tried to bring a woman through Transition once, didn’t they?” Kellam asked. “I seem to remember hearing something about that.”
“Someone always tries,” Colivar responded. “When they think they find the right candidate, or the right method of training… or else they just get bored. It never works.” He chuckled coldly, a sound utterly without humor. “Women apparently don’t have what it takes to devour human souls.”
“What about that one down in the Free Lands?” Se-viral asked. “That… what do they call her… the Witch-Queen?”
“In Sankara,” Ramirus supplied. Colivar noticed Ramirus’ eyes turn to him, suspicion suddenly dark in their depths. Had he only just realized that Sankara bordered on Auremir, and that in keeping the latter city-state out of Danton’s hands, Colivar was effectively protecting Sankara itself? If so, the black-haired Magis-ter observed, the stress of the situation with Andovan was clearly making him sloppy. The old Ramirus would never have missed that.
Colivar shrugged. “She’s a witch. Powerful, ambitious, dangerous as all the hells combined… but still just a witch.”
“You know her.” Ramirus’ tone was an accusation.
Again he shrugged. “She has a standing invitation to any of our kind who pass through her domain to partake of her hospitality. Have you never been down there yourself, Ramirus?” Colivar shook his head in mock disapproval. “You really should get out more often.”
“I’ve been down there,” Kellam said with a dry smile. “She tried to bed me.”
“And you said no?”
“I hear that’s not so easy to do,” Thelas offered. “I hear she has potions that can turn a man’s mind to whatever she desires.”
“ I hear she collects the balls of Magisters as keepsakes.”
And she likely has taken all of you for lovers, at one time or another , Colivar thought, though none will admit that fact to all the others . Of all the
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