like a pawn.'
'No, rather like a knight that must be sacrificed to checkmate an opponent,' my father said.
'Very well, a knight, then. But did Salmelu know that he was to be
sacrificed?'
My father smiled grimly and shook his head. 'Few men have such
devotion for their king.'
'Morjin is no king,' I said, thinking of the whips I had heard cracking in the darkened tunnels of Argattha. 'Men do not follow him out of love.'
'Then shouldn't we consider the Galdan scryer's prophecy?' Asaru
asked. 'She spoke of a ghul, didn't she?'
Could Salmelu truly be a ghul, I wondered? Had he given up his soul to Morjin so that Morjin breathed his fell words into Salmelu's mouth and moved his lips and limbs from afar like a puppeteer pulling on strings? The living-dead, ghuls were called: they who were as corpses inside and were forced to think the very thoughts of their masters.
'No,' I said at last, 'Salmelu is no ghul.'
'But, Val, how can you be sure?'
Because the flames of his being burn with different colors than do Morjin's.
I stared off at the candles in their stands as I said, 'In Salmelu and Morjin, so much malice, so much hate. But the fire that eats away at Salmelu is different from that which consumes Morjin. Its source is different. I . . . can feel Salmelu's will to destroy me. It's as unique to him as a knight's emblem or a man's face.'
Asaru thought about this for a moment as a sudden dread came over him. 'But, Val, if Salmelu isn't this ghul, who is?'
Master Juwain, now sitting utterly still, cleared his throat and said, 'A scryer's prophecies are famously difficult to interpret, even those that prove true. Hut we should all give much thought to this one.'
His large, gray eyes fell upon me with the weight of worlds as he continued, 'We see at least one of the Red Dragon's traps within the trap: if Salmelu had failed to goad you into murder, what he brought here out of Argattha could not have failed to make you want to murder him.'
'Many wish to murder Morjin,' I said. 'And his priests.'
'But do they wish it as you do, Val? A fire, you spoke of, a raging fire that blinded you - like one of his illusions.'
'In Argattha,' I said, 'the Lord of Lies lost the power to make me behold his illusions.'
'Yes, but il seems he still has the power to make you hate.'
The brandy in my glass burned my tongue as I sipped it. 'Are you saying, then, that Morjin is trying to make me into a ghul?'
'Trying, yes, with all his might. But your heart is free. And your soul is the gift of the One. It can never be taken, only surrendered.'
'That,' I said, 'will never happen.'
'No, the Lord of Lies has no power to seize your will directly. But how much of your will do you think will remain if you destroy your sell with this terrible hate?'
I had no answer for him. I knew that he was right. For a few moments, I tried to practise one of the light meditations that he had once taught me. But the two blackened orbs inside the box that Salmelu had given me darkened my eyes; and the letter that I had placed down inside my armor was like a crushing weight upon my heart.
I finally brought forth this thick square of folded paper. I held it up toward the candles in their stand. No ray of light pierced the bone-white envelope to show what words Morjin might have written to me. It was sealed with red wax bearing the stamp of the Dragon.
'Is this, then,' I asked, 'another of Morjin's traps?'
'I'm afraid it is,' Master Juwain said.
'Then the trap must be sprung.'
I drew my knife to open it, but Master Juwain held out his hand and shook his head. 'No, do not - burn it instead.'
'But the letter must be read. If Morjin has set traps for me, then his words might betray what these are.'
'I'm afraid his words are the trap. Like the kirax, Val. Only this poison will work at your mind.'
'My father,' I said, looking across the circle at the great man who had sired me, 'taught me that an enemy's mind must be studied and known.'
'Not this enemy,'
'No, rather like a knight that must be sacrificed to checkmate an opponent,' my father said.
'Very well, a knight, then. But did Salmelu know that he was to be
sacrificed?'
My father smiled grimly and shook his head. 'Few men have such
devotion for their king.'
'Morjin is no king,' I said, thinking of the whips I had heard cracking in the darkened tunnels of Argattha. 'Men do not follow him out of love.'
'Then shouldn't we consider the Galdan scryer's prophecy?' Asaru
asked. 'She spoke of a ghul, didn't she?'
Could Salmelu truly be a ghul, I wondered? Had he given up his soul to Morjin so that Morjin breathed his fell words into Salmelu's mouth and moved his lips and limbs from afar like a puppeteer pulling on strings? The living-dead, ghuls were called: they who were as corpses inside and were forced to think the very thoughts of their masters.
'No,' I said at last, 'Salmelu is no ghul.'
'But, Val, how can you be sure?'
Because the flames of his being burn with different colors than do Morjin's.
I stared off at the candles in their stands as I said, 'In Salmelu and Morjin, so much malice, so much hate. But the fire that eats away at Salmelu is different from that which consumes Morjin. Its source is different. I . . . can feel Salmelu's will to destroy me. It's as unique to him as a knight's emblem or a man's face.'
Asaru thought about this for a moment as a sudden dread came over him. 'But, Val, if Salmelu isn't this ghul, who is?'
Master Juwain, now sitting utterly still, cleared his throat and said, 'A scryer's prophecies are famously difficult to interpret, even those that prove true. Hut we should all give much thought to this one.'
His large, gray eyes fell upon me with the weight of worlds as he continued, 'We see at least one of the Red Dragon's traps within the trap: if Salmelu had failed to goad you into murder, what he brought here out of Argattha could not have failed to make you want to murder him.'
'Many wish to murder Morjin,' I said. 'And his priests.'
'But do they wish it as you do, Val? A fire, you spoke of, a raging fire that blinded you - like one of his illusions.'
'In Argattha,' I said, 'the Lord of Lies lost the power to make me behold his illusions.'
'Yes, but il seems he still has the power to make you hate.'
The brandy in my glass burned my tongue as I sipped it. 'Are you saying, then, that Morjin is trying to make me into a ghul?'
'Trying, yes, with all his might. But your heart is free. And your soul is the gift of the One. It can never be taken, only surrendered.'
'That,' I said, 'will never happen.'
'No, the Lord of Lies has no power to seize your will directly. But how much of your will do you think will remain if you destroy your sell with this terrible hate?'
I had no answer for him. I knew that he was right. For a few moments, I tried to practise one of the light meditations that he had once taught me. But the two blackened orbs inside the box that Salmelu had given me darkened my eyes; and the letter that I had placed down inside my armor was like a crushing weight upon my heart.
I finally brought forth this thick square of folded paper. I held it up toward the candles in their stand. No ray of light pierced the bone-white envelope to show what words Morjin might have written to me. It was sealed with red wax bearing the stamp of the Dragon.
'Is this, then,' I asked, 'another of Morjin's traps?'
'I'm afraid it is,' Master Juwain said.
'Then the trap must be sprung.'
I drew my knife to open it, but Master Juwain held out his hand and shook his head. 'No, do not - burn it instead.'
'But the letter must be read. If Morjin has set traps for me, then his words might betray what these are.'
'I'm afraid his words are the trap. Like the kirax, Val. Only this poison will work at your mind.'
'My father,' I said, looking across the circle at the great man who had sired me, 'taught me that an enemy's mind must be studied and known.'
'Not this enemy,'
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