'An appeal that went beyond charisma,' sighed Moriana. 'Darl Rhadaman possessed a similar talent.'
'It may be that I was wrong about Fairspeaker's not being a mage,' Ziore said musingly. 'This ability you speak of may be a talent of the mind, like Athalar magic, though it is of a kind unfamiliar to me.'
'Or perhaps too familiar,' said Moriana. 'It strikes me as similar to your talent for emotional manipulation, Ziore, but not as well controlled.' The genie looked first rebellious, then sheepish. 'You may be right,' she admitted.
'In any event, he had grown to manhood when Sternbow's wife died. Fairspeaker returned from a campaign in which he had distinguished himself in battle against bandits from the Lolu country. He demanded the patronage Sternbow had withheld so long. Guilt wouldn't permit the older man to refuse.'
He drew idle designs in the dust at his feet. The growing heat made him sweat. Fost wondered what it had been like for the Watchers in the skystone mines. Hell, no doubt. And the man he spoke of contributed heavily to a renewal of that living torture.
'When I was in Nevrym,' he continued, 'Fairspeaker was already something of a force to be reckoned with. He was little different from the way he is now. No one quite trusts him, unless you happen to be the subject of his immediate attention. Yet when he's around no man quite trusts his comrades, either. No one can tell who is under Fairspeaker's influence. And no one knows who Fairspeaker backs.' Fost rubbed his chin. A wiry black stubble rasped under his hand. He'd lost his razor in the City, and the dagger he shaved with now had been confiscated by the foresters. 'He keeps his own balance and keeps all others off theirs. He is dangerous,' he finished.
'But why is he helping the Zr'gsz?.' demanded Moriana. 'He must know they're enemies of all humanity.' Fost shrugged.
'I don't know. One thing no one's ever accused Fairspeaker of lacking is a keen perception of where his own best interests lie.'
A creak and a thump announced that the bolt on the gate was being withdrawn. Fost was on his feet instantly, Moriana beside him poised to take advantage of the slightest opportunity to escape. Deep down he knew escape was but a forlorn hope. The inhuman speed of the Zr'gsz and the keen eyes and ready bows of their human allies were too formidable a combination for them to overcome unarmed. Even if Moriana summoned up a fearful battle spell from inside her, all that would accomplish would be to take some Hissers and foresters down to Hell Call with them. That might be the only sensible thing to do, but despair hadn't progressed that far. Yet.
'My ears burn, gentle friends,' said Fairspeaker, stepping through the gate with a brace of Zr'gsz spearmen at his heels. A leather pouch with a suspiciously familiar bulge swung familiarly at his hip. 'Could it be you did me the honor of discussing me?'
Fost favored him with a long, dour look and folded himself back down to the ground.
'We've more pleasant topics to discuss, Fairspeaker. The state of the latrine, for example.'
Fairspeaker threw back his head and roared with laughter, as if this were the choicest joke he'd ever heard.
'Ah, good Longstrider, you were ever the droll rogue. You are sorely missed in the Great Nevrym. The dullards and dotards who infest the Tree haven't among them the wit to fill a thimble.'
Fost found himself listening intently, even thinking Fairspeaker wasn't such a bad fellow. After all, he did appreciate Fost's finer qualities.
Fairspeaker looked from the courier to Moriana who stood with legs braced and arms folded beneath her breasts, glaring defiantly at him. He met her eyes, shrugged at the message he read in them and turned his attention back to Fost.
'You'd be a valuable ally for the Dark Ones,' he said. 'Why throw away your life for this Sky scum?'
Why, indeed? It was all so lucid Fost wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. 'Are all Nevrymin allies of the Dark?' demanded Moriana.
'No, Lady,' he said, laughing at her. 'But soon they will be. As soon as those of us with the vision to see what's best for the Forest have assumed the mantle of power and cleared away a certain amount of the deadwood.' Moriana's answering laugh was as jarring as steel on stone.
'I, too, thought the Hissers my allies,' she said, 'and I gather my sister thought the same of the Lords of Infinite Night. You can see how wisely we chose those to trust.'
A shadow crossed his pale face, then was gone, as fleeting as a bat crossing a disk of the lesser moon.
'I have my assurances from parties of great power – or Power, if you get my emphasis. Synalon was weighed and found wanting; you merely sought to exploit the People for your own base ends and found your wickedness turned against you. I, and those of like mind, deal with the Dark from a position of strength and good faith. We will be honored well when the final victory is achieved.'
His brown eyes found Fost's gray ones. Fairspeaker smiled and Fost felt himself stirring to the gaze.
'Well, Longstrider? May I have your hand upon it… comrade?'
As if of its own accord, Fost's scarred right hand rose to touch Fairspeaker's slimmer, softer one.
Idiot! A voice cracked from the back of his skull. He's playing you like a lute! He struck the preferred hand away.
'Go drown yourself in a bucket of shit!' he snarled, deliberately using the crudity to dispel the last of Fairspeaker's verbal spell.
Fairspeaker only laughed, and waved the fingers of his raised right hand languidly in the air as if to cool them.
'Well, that's your decision. All I can say is that I am deeply regretful.' He turned to Moriana. 'Perhaps you have a clearer perception of your own interest, Princess. I can tell you that a high official of the People arrives on the morrow from Thendrun to interrogate you. You can save yourself much anguish – by which I mean earn yourself a quick and painless death – if you simply tell me now of your plans.'
'Plans?' Moriana's laugh turned bitter. 'I have none. Except to escape this stinking pen.'
'Don't lie, Princess.' The liquid eyes showed hurt. Fairspeaker patted Erimenes's new pouch. 'Your former accomplice has revealed to me many of the salient features of your scheme to turn the skystone mines to your own purposes. But the servants of the Dark need details. For example, which traitor revealed to you the workings of the skyraft controls? We know you flew here on a craft stolen from the Sky City. I tell you this so you'll understand that we know enough to tell if you try lying to us.'
Only instinct prevented Fost from dropping his jaw in amazement. It took iron self-control to keep from turning to see if Moriana was as dumbstruck. Where in the wide Realm had Fairspeaker gotten such an extravagant notion?
'Confess all, Fost.' Erimenes's voice lacked nothing of the unctuous tones Fairspeaker carried off so well. 'You've not been a bad companion, though you are uncouth and rather less valorous than I might have wished. I'd hate to see you suffer needlessly on account of your murdering wolf bitch.' Fost turned an ugly grin on Fairspeaker.
'I might even reconsider your offer to join you, my friend,' he said in a deadly quiet voice, 'if you could promise me one reward. Return Erimenes to a living, feeling body so that I could give him the fill of sensation he so craves. My vaporous friend, I think I've picked up some useful pointers from your old friend, the late, lamented Prince Rann.' Fairspeaker guffawed. 'You'd jest on the gibbet, friend Fost.' 'Who's jesting?' 'Mark my words, Fost! You'll regret this.'
Fairspeaker looked at the sky. A few fat, fleecy clouds gamboled in the southern sky. He let his gaze drift meaningfully at the traffic of skycraft streaming in from the northeast.
'You'll have until tomorrow morning to think over your refusal.' Fairspeaker's eyes filled with concern. 'You must understand, my friends, that once Lord Nchssk arrives, affairs will pass from my hands and I will be unable to win you any mercy.'