The Whitefire Crossing - By Courtney Schafer Page 0,109
a host of coolly practical arguments.
To Shaikar’s hells with Jylla. I’d shadow the mage’s house best I could, seize on any weakness I found, and pray for Khalmet’s favor. I’d need the touch of his good hand to have a hope of foxing a blood mage.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
(Kiran)
The creak of the door startled Kiran awake. He’d settled on the bed intending only a brief rest, his thoughts still consumed with the question of Simon’s plans, but the muddy lethargy of his thoughts suggested he’d slept far longer than he’d meant. He shoved upright, hastily bracing for another confrontation with Simon.
Pello slid around the door with a plate of bread and cheese and a water jug balanced in his hands. Kiran’s jaw dropped. “You! What are you doing here?”
A smirk spread over Pello’s face. He set down the food. “Dev never realized I represented an employer within Alathia, then? How gratifying. Or...” The smirk turned sly. “Perhaps he knew, and didn’t tell you.”
Bad enough that Dev had handed him over to Gerran, but if he’d known about Simon, and what Kiran faced in Simon’s hands...the bitterness that pierced him edged toward hatred. With an effort, Kiran leashed his anger. Regardless of what Dev had or hadn’t known, he no longer mattered. Pello, however...“You traveled with the convoy at Simon’s bidding? Why?”
“Simon Levanian is a cautious man.” Pello ran a finger over the thickly clustered ward lines inscribed on the doorframe. They remained quiescent; Simon must have keyed the wards directly to Kiran. “An apprentice of his greatest enemy, obligingly running straight into his grasp...as the saying goes, beware your rival’s touch, disguised as Khalmet’s good hand.”
Simon had feared his escape was some trick of Ruslan’s? Kiran’s heart quickened. Perhaps he could use that fear against Simon.
Sardonic amusment gleamed in Pello’s dark eyes. “Yet anyone with eyes can see you have no guile. Such a disappointment for your former master, I am sure. Did you run to escape his heavy hand? Do you glory in the dreadful end Simon intends for him?”
Kiran’s breath caught. If Pello knew Simon’s plans, his quick tongue might be far looser than his master’s. Kiran assumed an expression of utter confidence. “Simon will fail. Ruslan’s magic far outstrips his.”
“Cautious men do not gamble without the certainty the odds are in their favor,” Pello said, with another twitch of a grin.
“What makes you so certain Simon has judged his chances correctly?”
Pello raised his brows. “What makes you believe he hasn’t?”
Sudden insight struck Kiran. Pello didn’t know Simon’s plans either, and underneath his mocking assurance, a splinter of doubt must linger. “Dev claimed you were clever, but that must have been another lie. Choosing to serve Simon...a clever man would have realized the chances of survival are nonexistent. The akheli are not kind to untalented servants. Even if Simon should somehow prevail over Ruslan, you’ll not last more than a year. You’ll anger him one day, or he’ll need a source of power and take what’s closest to hand. But when Simon fails, your death will come far sooner.”
Pello flipped a hand in dismissal. “I hardly think a mage so exalted as Ruslan Khaveirin would concern himself with the death of one so lowly as I.”
Excitement sparked within. Pello didn’t know...oh, careful, he must be careful. “You don’t understand,” Kiran said. “Simon bound you. Only a lock-binding rather than a full drone-binding, I’d imagine, but for an untalented man, completely vulnerable to magic...should Simon fall to Ruslan, the force of his death will blast through the link and snuff out your life as rapidly as a candle in a sandstorm.”
No trace of mockery showed in Pello’s eyes now. “I exchanged no blood with Simon.”
“The akheli need no blood rituals to bind the untalented. Has he never touched you?” Kiran read the answer in the sudden rigidity of Pello’s stance. “He can kill you now with a thought, and the Alathian wards won’t sense a thing.” Though only if the two men were in close proximity; a fact Kiran hoped Pello didn’t know.
“All the more reason to devote myself to ensuring his success,” Pello said flatly.
Kiran leaned forward. “A lock-binding can be broken or thwarted, with the right knowledge. Knowledge I have, and would share, if you help me cross Simon’s wards.”
Pello laughed. “Ah! A commendable effort, but a doomed one. To throw away all I might gain at Simon’s side, when I have only your word such a binding even exists? I am not so gullible as you, to be