Still, he had not expected such an effort from the elfling, and it had surprised him. The Shadow King had warned him that the elfling was a master of the Way, but that had not worried Valsavis overmuch. He had dealt with such people before. They were often formidable, but not invulnerable. And besting them was always a fascinating challenge.
However, when the elfling had first tried to probe his thoughts, Valsavis had expected that it would feel no different from the times when others had tried to do the same. He had been wrong.
The first attempt had felt like the familiar, faint tugging at an imaginary string within his mind. He had carefully avoided displaying any reaction, because he did not want the elfling to know he was aware of it. But the second tug had been much stronger, as strong as when Nibenay had tried it, and Nibenay was a sorcerer-king. That had surprised Valsavis, and it had been difficult to keep that surprise from showing. There had then followed several more attempts, each one stronger than the one preceding it, until it felt almost as if someone were trying to pull his brain out through his skull. And for the first time in his life, Valsavis had not known if he could resist.
He had no idea of the nature of his apparent immunity, and so there was no way he could control it. It was not something he did consciously. It was simply the way he was. But he had never before encountered anything like the elfling’s attempts to batter down his natural mental defenses. It had taken a supreme effort of will to avoid displaying a physical reaction. It had hurt. He had been in agony for most of the next day. Only now had the pain fully abated.
The elfling’s will was incredibly strong, far stronger than he had given him credit for, stronger than he could have imagined. Not even the Shadow King had tried to probe him with such force. It was astonishing. Small wonder Nibenay feared him, and had brought his best assassin out of retirement to deal with him. The probes had failed, however, and Valsavis did not think the elfling would try again. And that was fortunate, for he had no wish to repeat the experience. It had been difficult to get through the day without revealing his discomfort. He had taken staff blows to the head that had hurt less. It was most unsettling.
The repeated probes had also meant that the elfling did not trust him. One did not try to smash his way to another’s mind if he felt trust. The question was, exactly what did the elfling suspect? Was he suspicious merely because he had encountered a stranger in the wilderness who had offered aid for no apparent reason? It was certainly not illogical for Sorak to suspect he might have hidden motives. But did he suspect exactly what those motives were?
Valsavis had to admit that possibility. The elfling was no fool. Neither, for that matter, was the priestess. The elfling had noted how good a tracker he was. Perhaps that had been a mistake, Valsavis thought. He should have allowed the elfling to track down the marauders, but he had revealed the extent of his ability when he had told him how many marauders there had been. That had been foolish. It had been showing off. He should have resisted the temptation, but it had simply slipped out. Now the elfling knew he was an experienced tracker, and that meant Sorak realized he would certainly have been capable of tracking them from Nibenay, across the Ivory Plain.
He may have diverted some suspicion by telling him he came from Gulg, but then Sorak could easily assume that he was lying. No, they suspected, thought Valsavis. He was certain of it. Yet, in a way, that only made the game more interesting. Especially because it placed him completely in control of the situation.
They suspect, he thought, but they do not know. And, unlike him, they would not act on mere suspicion. If he suspected that someone he was traveling with might be an enemy, Valsavis would have no compunction about slitting his throat while he slept, just to be on the safe side. Sorak and Ryana, on the other hand, were avowed preservers, followers of the Druid Way, and that meant they had scruples. They subscribed to a morality that he was not encumbered with, a morality that gave him a marked advantage.
It would be fascinating to play out the game and watch them watching him, waiting to see if he made some slip and gave himself away. Only he would make no such slip. He would watch them squirm in their uncertainty, and he would sleep soundly in their presence, knowing that he could safely turn his back on them because they were preservers and would not attempt to harm him without demonstrable and justifiable cause. Even now, they were probably wondering about him, discussing him, trying to decide what they would do if he chose not to remain in Salt View, but offered to go with them when they moved on to Bodach.
He had already decided what he would do about that. He would stick to them with the tenacity of a spider cactus, following them everywhere they went while they were in Salt View, merely professing concern for their safety as his fellow travelers. They would not protest, because to do so would mean explaining why they did not want him around, and they were still uncertain of him, uncertain enough to think that he might just be exactly what he claimed to be. And when they left for Bodach, he would go along with them, claiming that it would be insanity for them to refuse his help in such a place, and that they owed him at least that much for having come to their aid. He would insist that they owed him a chance at the legendary treasure, a chance at one last, glorious adventure for an old man who would soon retire to live out the twilight of his years in solitude, with nothing but his memories.
They might not believe him, but they would have no way of being certain that he was not telling them the truth. They might still refuse him, but he did not think they would. They would certainly need all the help that they could get in the city of the undead, whether he was an agent of the Shadow King or not. And they would doubtless realize that there was no way they could prevent him from following them ... short of killing him, of course, and their preserver sense of morality would not allow for that.
He smiled. Yes, he thought, this was going to be enjoyable. It would be a fitting cap to his career. When this was over, the Shadow King would show his gratitude and reward him richly. His greatest enemy would be eliminated, and Nibenay would even be generous enough to ask him to name his prize among the templar harem. He might even be generous enough to offer him a further bonus, and if he did not offer, Valsavis would not hesitate to ask.
He already knew what he would ask for. He would ask for a spell from the dragon king to bring his youth back. He already had a great deal of money hidden away, money he had earned in the service of the Shadow King, money he never had any reason to spend because he had lived simply and quietly. It was money that he had painstakingly set aside for his old age, when he became infirm and could no longer care for himself. On the other hand, with his youth back, he could use that money to buy himself a very different sort of life. He could come back to Salt View and settle down, perhaps purchase an inn or build a gaming house, which would, over the years, produce more than ample funds to see him through his second old age. And meanwhile, he could enjoy himself and do anything he chose to do. It was a pleasant fantasy, and one that was by no means out of reach.
The two girls were finishing their rubdown. Their touches were become lighter and softer, more like caresses. They were trying to place him in a mood of receptivity for further services of a more intimate nature. And, he thought, why not? It had been a long time since he had sported with a woman, much less with two at the same time. The elfling and the priestess would keep. They had already agreed to meet with him for dinner and an evening’s entertainment on the town. Besides, he had taken care to bribe the clerk to inform him if they tried to go anywhere without him. He sighed deeply and turned over onto his back. The two girls smiled at him and began to stroke his chest, slowly working their way down. And then his hand began to tingle. “Leave me,” he said, at once. They started to protest, but he insisted. “Leave me, I said. I want a few moments to be alone and rest. I will call you when I need you.”