Mask of Dragons by Jonathan Moeller Page A

is more than I can say about many wizards.” 
    Coming from Molly, that was high praise. 
    “Aye,” said Mazael. “I won’t command it of him.” But he knew that if he asked, Timothy would accompany them. “So be it, then. I shall speak with Sir Tanam, and we will leave at dawn with the advance patrol.”
    Adalar nodded. “I had better see to supplies and horses.”
    “I shall come with you,” said Romaria. “No doubt upon your abilities, Lord Adalar, but no one here has as much practice as I do surviving in wild lands.”
    “Not all of us can become wolves and hunt our own food,” said Adalar. 
    Her smile flashed like a white slash across her face. “Then if you travel with me, my young lord, you shall never want for meat.” 
    “I’ll speak with Sir Tanam,” said Mazael, “and Arnulf and Toric and the other chief headmen. They will know to heed you while I am gone.”
    “They had better,” muttered Molly. 
    “First, though,” said Mazael. “We need to have a little talk with Earnachar.”
    Sigaldra remained silent, but her scowl said enough.
     
    ###
     
    Adalar followed Mazael and Sigaldra through the camp. Mazael seemed calm, though his movements put Adalar in mind of a lion preparing to kill its prey. Sigaldra’s agitation was plain, and her hands kept opening and closing into fists. 
    “At the first sign of treachery,” said Sigaldra. “At the first hint of it. I will kill him, and his heart will be revealed for all to see.”
    “Yes, you’ve mentioned that before,” said Mazael. 
    “I cannot believe you are trusting him,” said Sigaldra.
    “I am not,” said Mazael. “I’m giving him the opportunity to prove himself worthy of trust.”
    Sigaldra’s lip twisted. “Because he is Tervingi. Because he is powerful and commands many men.”
    “No,” said Mazael. 
    “If he were Jutai, you would have killed him already,” said Sigaldra.
    “No,” said Mazael again. 
    Sigaldra let out an irritated snort. “For a man who does not tolerate rebellion among his vassals, you give Earnachar a great deal of…”
    Mazael turned so fast that Adalar barely saw it. His expression had turned flat and hard, his gray eyes cold. Sigaldra flinched, losing her balance, and Adalar caught her arm. For a terrible instant, Adalar was certain, utterly certain, that Mazael had lost his temper and was about to kill Sigaldra. 
    “What I want,” said Mazael in a quiet voice, “is to kill Earnachar and mount his head upon the gates of Banner Hill as a warning to other fools. But we don’t always get what we want, do we? No. A lord’s vassals should fear him, but they must also have hope. Earnachar claims he was controlled by dark magic. I know what that is like. So I will give him the chance to prove himself. The same chance, I point out, I gave to you when you closed the gates of Greatheart Keep to me. If I was as ruthless as you wished me to be, I would have burned Greatheart Keep to the ground for that insult.” He tilted his head to the side, regarding her with unblinking eyes, and again Adalar thought of a lion. “If I was that ruthless…I suppose that would rather make me like Ragnachar, wouldn’t it?” 
    Sigaldra swallowed. 
    “Would you prefer that?” said Mazael, his eyes glinting in the gloom. “If I was more like Ragnachar?”
    “No,” said Sigaldra at last, her voice shaken. 
    “Lord Mazael,” said Adalar, uncertain of what to do. Whenever he had heard that cold fury in Mazael’s voice, it had almost always been before a battle. “Isn’t…that enough?”
    Mazael blinked at him, and then took a deep breath, seeming to calm himself down. “Yes, you’re right. Forgive me, Lady Sigaldra. I fear my temper rather carried me away.” 
    “No,” said Sigaldra, shaking his head. “No, you are nothing like Ragnachar. He…never asked forgiveness for anything.” 
    “That may be one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me,” said Mazael. “Come.” 
    He strode