Warlock's Last Ride

Eleven

"ALLIANCE? WITH TOTALITARIANS? CHIEF, THEY stand for the worst in everything we detest!"

"True—but they could be useful." The Chief Agent laid down the scroll and turned to look out the window at the gardens. "Also, it seems, they've done just as our future Central Committee did—sent back the Chief of Mission who directed things when that confounded Gallowglass first came."

"You would have succeeded in your palace coup if he hadn't interfered." The young woman had read SPITE's official history. "Then it would have been only a matter of time before you had all the noblemen fighting each other."

"And exterminating the Mocker and his gang." The Chief Agent turned back to her, nodding. "We didn't realize then that the Lord Warlock was a bigger enemy for each of us than we were for each other."

"He put you in jail, Chief Durer."

"Yes, with the Mocker in an adjoining cell." Durer gazed back into memory—for him, only three months earlier. "Of course we spent the first week going at it hammer and tongs through the bars, but in the second week we started comparing notes. By the time we were ready to break out of there, we both understood who the real enemy was."

"Meaning the Lord Warlock."

"He was neither a lord nor a warlock at the time," Durer told her, "at least, as far as any of us knew—including him."

The young woman stared. "You mean he didn't know he had ESP powers?"

"If he had, he would have used them." Durer pulled a volume to him and pointed to the open page. "According to my successors' journals, he had a rather extended visit from a monk, after which he demonstrated a wide range of talents."

"Brother Aloyuisis Uwell." Dierdre nodded, again demonstrating her knowledge of recent history.

"I have a message into headquarters checking on him," Durer said. "I suspect he taught the Lord Warlock how to live up to his title." He sighed, paging through the book. "Three Chief Agents after me, and none of them had any better luck than I—but I have their hard-won knowledge to help me now, and a better idea of what the Gallowglasses can do."

"Now that the Lord Warlock is off on his own, maybe he's more vulnerable."

Durer shook his head. "His children can teleport to him in an instant. No, we have to remove them first. Then we can take care of my old enemy." His eyes gleamed.

That gleam chilled Dierdre—and surprised her; usually the old man seemed so nice.

Durer turned back to the book, leafing through the pages and frowning. "Not much here from the traitor."

He meant Finister, the last Chief Agent before the one he had replaced.

"She wasn't Chief Agent very long before she changed her name and turned her coat to marry the youngest Gallowglass." Dierdre's tone was sharp with spite.

Durer shook his head. "I don't know what possessed Chief Agent Lewis to appoint that witch as his successor just before he died."

On Gramarye, the term "witch" might have been merely descriptive, referring to someone with extra-sensory talents—but Durer chose to interpret it as an insult.

"I don't think he had much choice about it," the Home Agent said. "We all knew Finister was a powerful esper, but we had no idea how powerful."

Durer turned to her with a frown. "You mean she bewitched Lewis?"

"In more ways than one," the Home Agent said. "I'll admit he was using her for his own … amusement… so she may have thought she was justified in using him in return."

"Using him in what way?"

"She projected a very beautiful and voluptuous image, but we're pretty sure she manipulated his emotions telepathically, too. Why else would he have given the order that she be his successor? And considering that he died the next day …"

"The autopsy?"

"Showed no reason for death—his heart simply stopped."

Even Durer felt a chill. "I take it this Finister was telekinetic, too?"

"She had all the ESP talents except levitation and teleportation," the Home Agent confirmed.

"I'll have to meet her—with my most advanced weapons," Durer said with a smile.

Dierdre nodded. "You might want to consider a quiet little assassination for her before that."

"Oh, no! Our revenge on the Gallowglass heirs comes first," Durer said. "Then I shall have my own revenge on the young woman who usurped my office and betrayed our Cause." He gazed off into a dream future, his eyes kindling. "My revenge on this Finister-Allouette will be delicious and prolonged."

Dierdre stared at the look on his face and shuddered. How could she have ever thought this man was kindly?

Durer made a quick gesture that banished his vision. "When I'm satiated, I'll be generous and give her a quick death." He turned back to Dierdre, all business once more. "After all, she was Chief Agent once, no matter how briefly, nor what skulduggery she used to get the job. We do owe her some respect."

THE SUN WAS rising when Cordelia came out onto the battlements, where the servants had told her she could find Magnus. Sure enough, there he was, strolling along the eastern wall, stopping to chat briefly with each sentry, then standing still in the center of the parapet to watch the great orange disk rise.

Cordelia came up behind him. "How now, brother— have you become a Zoroastrian, that you must rise to pray to the light as it returns?"

Magnus looked down with a fond smile. "Not at all, sister. It is simply that it is beautiful, and a promise that some of the world, at least, is clean of humankind's more sordid doings."

Cordelia wondered what had happened to the cheerful, optimistic big brother of her youth, then reminded herself that two years' difference in age didn't mean much between adults. "You rise early only for this moment of contemplation?"

"It would be worth it." Magnus turned back to look at the sun. "But I wake early without meaning to now. I've become accustomed to rising with the sun on my travels, and my body does it whether I wish it or not."

"This is your idea of sleeping late, is it?" Cordelia turned to gaze at the great glowing ball, too. She let a few minutes pass, steeling herself to confrontation, then asked, "And do you mean to become the sun to us stay-at-homes, expecting us all to revolve around you?"

Magnus's shoulders shrugged with a stifled laugh. "Scarcely."

"I mean it, brother." Cordelia's voice gained steel. "You have little knowledge of what has passed on this world in this last ten years. You are in no position to give orders, no matter what Papa has said—and neither Alain nor I would obey you if you did!"

"Dad did not say to give orders."

Cordelia's eyes widened in surprise.

"He told me to take care of the land and people of Gramarye," Magnus went on. "He did not say that I had to command a cadre of officers in the doing of it."

"Surely you do not think you can answer every challenge alone!"

"If there is an emergency to which I must respond, Alea may choose to come with me."

"Well… so shall I, if it comes to that." Cordelia turned to look at the sun again. "But that is a matter of choosing, Magnus, not of responding to order."

Magnus nodded. "It will be your choice, Cordelia, not mine."

Cordelia snapped a sharp glance up at him, frowning. "Do I hear overtones of emotional blackmail in that?"

"If you do, they are of your own making." Magnus smiled down at her, amused. "You may infer them, but I do not imply them."

Cordelia stared at him a moment, frowning. Then she said, "So you will go kiting off on the spur of the moment to answer some fancied challenge and expect Alea, and the rest of us, to come chasing after you "

"I shall not expect that." Magnus locked gazes with her. "I shall not expect anything."

Cordelia frowned, trying to puzzle him out. "Do you think you can meet all threats alone?"