King's Test by Margaret Weis

Author:Margaret Weis [Weis, Margaret]
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780553289077
Publisher: New York : Bantam Books, c1991.
Published: 1991-04-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

I've a grand memory for forgetting . . .

Robert Louis Stevenson, Kidnapped

Maigrey looked tired, tired and defeated. Her head drooped; her shoulders slumped. She put her hand to the wound on her neck. It must sting and burn, but the Warlord guessed that its pain was minor compared to old wounds that throbbed and bled, draining the exultation of victory from her. She thought she had won the war. She had now discovered she hadn't even been on the right battlefield. He knew how she felt. He'd been on the field, unfortunately facing the wrong direction.

"How long have you known?" Maigrey's voice broke the silence, but not by much. Sagan couldn't be certain if he had heard her. But he knew her question from her thoughts, and answered.

"Not long, my lady. Abdiel kept himself well hidden. I was aware of him a short time back, on Phoenix. Even then I wasn't certain. I made inquiries, studied the records of his supposed death. No one, of course, had seen or heard of him for many years. Not surprising. He could stand in front of you and, if he didn't want you to see him, you wouldn't see him. I sent Sparafucile to investigate, warned him how the mind-seizer operates." Sagan laid his hand on the half-breed's shoulder. "My friend was not blinded like the others. He saw him. Abdiel is a frequent, albeit unknown, guest at the presidential mansion."

Sparafucile grinned, pleased at the commendation. Maigrey cast the breed a disgusted glance from the corner of her eye. "Why didn't you just have Abdiel assassinated? Your 'friend' appears quite adept at that line of work."

"Why didn't we kill him once, that long time ago, lady? We had the chance, yet we were thankful to escape with our lives. You know his defenses, Maigrey! You're not thinking—"

"Damn it, I know I'm not thinking!" She rounded on him, fists clenched in her anger. "I don't want to think! I'm tired and I hurt and ... my God, Sagan, he's got Dion! Do something! We've got to do something!"

He stared at her in astonishment, saw that she was frantic, on the verge of hysteria. He grabbed hold of her wrists and gave her a swift, firm shake. "What the devil is the matter with you?"

Maigrey gulped, caught her breath. She stared at him blankly, without recognition, bloodless lips gaping open. A shudder convulsed her body; she drew back from him, shrinking in upon herself. He let her go. Shivering, she turned away from him, rubbing her arms.

Your lady not fight the dead ones, Sagan Lord. Sparafucile's report on the ambush returned to the Warlord. She fight the others and fight well. Boom! Boom! Boom! All of them gone. But the dead ones . . . the lady froze. If Sparafucile had not been there, the lady would, I think, be a dead one herself now.

Sagan had disregarded the statement. Sparafucile had his faults and one was that he invariably made himself the hero of any situation.

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