Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol II - By Richard A. Knaak Page 0,43

officer slammed his helm onto his head and marched stiffly away, muttering something about merchants and functionaries knowing less about wars than conscripted footsoldiers. Mal Quorin watched the fuming soldier vanish and smiled. It was the same sort of smile he had used on Darkhorse during the “punishment.”

The smile quickly soured as some disturbing thought intruded. The counselor turned back the way he had come and moved on, his pace quick and determined. Darkhorse followed closely behind, curious. The path Quorin took led him toward an outdoor garden in the center of the palace. The human was halfway to an old door partially hidden in one of the vine-covered walls when another figure entered the garden from the opposite side. Both Quorin and Darkhorse stopped, the shadow steed quickly backing farther and farther away, hoping he had not reacted too slowly.

“Drayfitt!” The counselor spat out the spellcaster’s name as he might have spat out a piece of rotten meat. The look on the sorcerer’s face matched his own. There was no love lost between them.

“What do you want now, Counselor Quorin?”

As they neared one another, looking all the while like two fighting cocks, Darkhorse moved a bit closer again. Quorin was speaking quietly now, intending his words for his rival’s ears alone. The eternal let his fragment drift close to the ground. If Drayfitt’s mind remained occupied by the presence of his adversary, then it was not likely he would notice Darkhorse’s spy. At least, that was the hope.

“Why aren’t you attending to matters below?”

“There isn’t much that creature can do at the moment—thanks to both of us! Melicard didn’t even know I’d recaptured it, did he? In fact, he seemed quite surprised, counselor!”

“What of it?” Quorin bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. “I act in his name.”

“Melicard would have never ordered such torture! I should have known better!”

“You seemed to be enjoying it somewhat.”

The sorcerer’s visage burned crimson. “I allowed my baser emotions to rule me that time, but not again! I care very little about what is ultimately done with that creature, but I will not see it abused!”

Mal Quorin leaned back and laughed loud. “Drayfitt—defender of the weak! That’s not a pup down there, you old idiot! That’s a demon older than time itself! Remember what it cost us—cost you—already! You’re fortunate it didn’t decide to take your head off while it was at it!”

Darkhorse heard the words faintly, his attention partially focused on the door Quorin had been heading for. The door, he realized, lead down to the chamber where he was being held—and both men had been heading toward it. For a brief moment, Darkhorse adjusted his senses, returning his full vision to the cramped room and his cage. If either man, especially Drayfitt, came while he was engaged with observing the palace, they would recognize that something was wrong. It was proving impossible to keep both positions in perspective and there was the danger that he might become so engrossed in spying on his adversaries that he might not even notice when one or the other visited his prison.

They were still arguing when the shadow steed reestablished contact with the fragment. The images were even more faded, a sign that the fragment was dissipating. Darkhorse knew he should have sacrificed more, but there was the danger of fragmenting himself into two greater yet weaker portions, neither of which could survive on its own. Only by utilizing a small piece of his “self” had he been able to do what he had.

“—before long! I expect it to be that way!” Quorin finished up. Darkhorse cursed himself for missing what might have been of great importance.

“We shall see. The book was fairly worthless in any case; most of it was notes, incomprehensible and, more often than not, complete foolishness. What little was useful was also insanely dangerous and destructive. I used what I could—and I still want to talk to the scoundrel you purchased it from. I want to find out where he stole or, more likely, scavenged it from.”

“Why, if it was so useless to you?”

Drayfitt shook his head, now apparently a bit angry at himself for saying too much. “You wouldn’t understand, Quorin. You could not begin to understand.”

“Pfah! I’ve no more time for this!” Forgetting that it was he who had started the exchange, the counselor departed—in a direction that took him away from the door. Darkhorse hesitated, not knowing whether he should stay with the sorcerer or follow Quorin.

It