Fost looked down at the tabletop, cursing himself for letting fear-spawned anger speak for him. Even in the most secure room of the most prestigious negotiation and intermediary firm in Tolviroth Acerte, with the company's armed guards standing by in case one of the parties attacked the other, Rann jockeyed for advantage. And letting emotion run away with him, Fost knew, gave Rann considerable advantage.
'We both made our pacts with the Dark Ones, sister dear,' said Synalon from where she lazily sprawled at Rann's side. 'And they both proved worthless. Let's leave the past and see what the future provides, shall we?'
For the first time since the Safesure Intermediary Company guards had escorted her into the room, color came to Moriana's face. 'I made no pact with the Dark Ones!' she flared.
'You bargained with Their chosen,' the dark haired woman pointed out. 'Surely, you didn't think that the Fallen Ones would do anything contrary to the interests of their masters?' It was Moriana's turn to avert her eyes and berate herself for giving advantage to a foe. She had thought exactly that, and she did not need the studied irony in Synalon's voice to tell her how foolish that thought had been.
Fost took a drink from the cup of wine at his elbow. One of the attendants, swaddled in white scale armor, looked to his sergeant, who nodded, and then stepped forth to refill the cup. The cup was of thin beaten silver, not for purpose of decoration but because a heavier one might be used as a bludgeon. Even one of ceramic might be broken to provide a sharp-edged, makeshift knife. Silver was too soft to hold an edge, and the flimsy cup would simply collapse if used to strike someone. The wine itself was scientifically diluted and its serving carefully overseen to produce a calming effect. Safesure took its responsibilities seriously, which was why Captain Arindin had recommended them so highly for this ticklish reunion. It was fortunate that the rival royal parties had encountered each other in Tolviroth Acerte, where secure neutral meeting ground could be had for a suitable price. Armed guards remained in the room with them; Wirixer mages were stationed outside, in case magic was called for. Fost tried to imagine dealing with Synalon and Rann in the common room of some country inn and found it too unsettling to ponder long.
Even in spite of the precautions, the safety of all concerned was beyond the company's ability to guarantee. Even though the Wirixer mages had been assembled, Fost knew all too well that if the sisters began tossing occult lethality about there was no way anyone in the world could stop it.
The silence in the room grew dry and scratchy with age. Fost cleared his throat.
'Excuse me for asking such a silly question,' he said, quailing inwardly at the quick blue light of anger blazing in Synalon's eyes, 'but why aren't you dead?'
She laughed. Her breasts shook vigorously to the full-throated merriment, threatening to break free of the inadequate restraint of her lacebird silk bodice.
'Ah, you poor, trusting fools. Moriana, you actually thought I'd step to my death in a fit of pique over a little setback?'
'As far as I could tell, you did,' said Moriana with an evenness of tone that amazed Fost.
'Yes, beloved sibling, I did. And before even I stepped from the window, I sent a mental call out for my dear eagle Nightwind. I hardly had the chance to enjoy the feel of falling free when he was between my legs and carrying me safely away.'
'And you, Rann?' piped up Erimenes, fidgeting at being excluded from the conversation. His and Ziore's jugs had posed a problem for the guards. Since there was nothing visible in either jar, and since the two most potent sorceresses were to be in the same room together anyway, it was decided a couple of genies made little difference. 'How do you come to be sitting here, looking so hale and hardy? I thought Khirshagk's spear brought you down.'
'It brought my eagle down, may he who cast that damned spear writhe in hellfire!'
Erimenes paled before the force of the prince's passion. The fury passed from Rann's tawny eyes and he relaxed.
'But Terror was the greatest of a great breed. The war eagles of the City are trained to preserve their rider's life at all costs. And though his every wingbeat added to his agony, Terror controlled our descent until he could set me safely on a hilltop. Then he died.'
'My dear Rann, I do believe I detect sentiment in your voice.' Some of Erimenes's cockiness had returned.
'No one cares what you believe, demon!' snapped Rann. His scars glowed like white-hot wires.
'If there's hellfire, Khirshagk's writhing in it,' Fost cut in quickly. 'He used that peculiar black smoking gem the Hissers took from the fumarole on Mt. Omizantrim and freed Istu with it. However the breaking of bonds Felarod created worked, it killed Khirshagk in the process.'
'Lucky all in the City weren't killed,' murmured Synalon. 'I've tested the magic that bound Istu, and know its potency.' She tapped her daintily pointed chin. 'No, come to think of it, from my viewpoint it wasn't lucky at all, for if all within the City had been slain, I might have returned at once.' Moriana wasn't listening.
'There's hellfire,' she said softly, staring unfocused at the center of the table. Silence crowded in again. Everyone knew why Synalon had tested the bonds pinioning Istu in the City's foundations, and it wasn't with a view toward strengthening them. Likewise, no one had to question how Moriana knew the reality of hellfire. She had seen it glowing through the slits that were the eyes of the Vicar of Istu, and it had touched her, left its mark on her.
'Perhaps if you'll explain how you came to be here,' suggested Rann. Moriana scowled, not wishing to follow any path the prince pointed out. Hurriedly, Fost began talking, telling what had happened in the City after Synalon's apparent suicide. Soon, Moriana joined in the telling, and the two spirits as well.
As she listened, Synalon's fingers idly stroked at her exposed breastbone. When the tale came to the night of the Golden Dome, they slipped into the top of her gown, at which Rann cleared his throat and looked away. Fost imagined that the Safesure attendants were grateful just then that their helmets hid their expressions. They would certainly earn their fees this day.
When the bloody aftermath of Teom's orgy was told, Rann's eyes glowed and he massaged one fist, cracking the knuckles and nodding appreciation of Fost and Moriana's exploits. Then came the storv of the Battle of the Black March, and he pounded his fist excitedly into his palm. He obviously wished he could have been there, commanding, fighting, taking in the ebb and flow of the battle. It was for such things the man lived – and it was in such things that Rann was a true genius.
Fost wondered whether Moriana, who had the narrative at this point, would tell of Zak'zar's apparition that had soured the victory celebration following the battle. She looked at him and stopped short.
'We had a visit from the Speaker of the People that night,' he said, hearing her breath catch. 'He showed us the fate that had befallen Kara-Est that day. How did you come to escape it?' The rest was Moriana's to keep or give.
Synalon's fingers curled into fists.
'We would have fought the Hissers at Kara-Est,' she growled, 'but for the treachery of this worm beside me.'
All stared at this, even the faceless attendants lining the whitewashed walls, for Rann's devotion to his princess was as legendary as his prowess in war and torture. The hair on Synalon's head began to untwine itself from its elaborate coiffure, and blue sparks crackled through it. Looking stricken, the guard sergeant started to draw his sword, knowing that it might be the last thing he ever did. Moriana raised a slim hand.
'Stay,' she said to the guard. 'She does that when she's angry. It means nothing.'
Synalon was known throughout the Realm for her behavior when angry. The sergeant did not look encouraged, but if Synalon uncorked anything horrible Moriana would catch the brunt of it, and it was Moriana who bid him not be concerned. He only hoped she wasn't going to commit suicide on his shift.