have been black.
Instead they burned with smokeless flame.
“The Knight of Wind and Air,” said Morgant. For some reason the djinni preferred to appear to him in the form of Annarah herself. Why, Morgant had never understood. Some obscure joke, no doubt.
“Morgant the Razor,” said the Knight of Wind and Air with Annarah’s voice, the words heavy with sardonic mockery. Annarah had never spoken like that. She had been gentle almost to the point of ineffective diffidence. “I see you still haven’t managed to answer your question.”
“And what question is that?” said Morgant.
“Does the world deserve to die?” said the Knight. “Two hundred years of life across a dozen different nations, Morgant the Razor, and you still don’t know the answer to that question.” Annarah’s face twisted into a mocking smile, the light of the smokeless flame playing across her face. “If I took a weapon of fell power, a thunderbolt that could burn every city in the world in a single instant, if I took that weapon and placed it in your hand…I do not know if you would use it. I do not think that you know if you would use it or not.”
“So does the world deserve to die?” said Morgant. “Answer me that.” The question fluttered at the edges of his mind. He didn’t know. On some level he didn’t care. He had seen so much death and suffering that it no longer meant anything to him. Yet it still repulsed some part of him. Perhaps the world did deserve to burn.
He had asked that question to Annarah, he knew. She had given him an answer…and he had forgotten it. More precisely, she had taken it when she had modified his memory to keep him from remembering the location of the Staff and the Seal. Perhaps she had done that on purpose, to make sure that he would come back to rescue her.
“Why do you ask me?” said the Knight. “It is not my world, is it? It’s yours. And hers.” The staff pointed at Caina, still frozen in the moment. “Tell me. Does she wish for the world to die?”
“You could ask her,” said Morgant.
“I have,” said the Knight of Wind and Air. “She may well be the one I have sought ever since Callatas stole the Star. But your answer also interests me.”
“Is immortality truly so boring?” said Morgant.
“Not in the least,” said the Knight. “I have my purpose, and I have followed my purpose since before you were born, before your world congealed out of the dust of the cosmos. You have your purpose, do you not? Your two rules. You do not kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it, and you keep your word. Tell me, then. What would Caina Amalas say? How would she answer the question? Does the world deserve to die?”
Morgant snorted. “I did ask her. She told me some nonsense about the innocent and children. As if anyone is innocent. Children are only the seeds of future villains. I suppose if I asked her now she would say the same thing, but she would be looking at the Kyracian as she said it and thinking about luring him into her bed.”
The Knight raised one of Annarah’s eyebrows. “Indeed. Is that jealousy?”
“No,” said Morgant. “She will lead the Kyracian to his death. Or she’ll die trying to save him. I have my word to keep. The children can play games with each other.”
“An interesting answer,” said the Knight of Wind and Air. “What if I told you that the power to kill the world shall soon come to your hands?”
“Then I would assume that you are drunk,” said Morgant.
“I am an immaterial spirit,” said the Knight. “I require neither food nor drink for my sustenance.”
Morgant waved a hand. “Or you’re…whatever the equivalent of drunkenness is in a spirit.”
“No,” said the Knight. “Very soon now, you will have the chance to kill the world. If you wish it.”
“And just how shall I accomplish such a feat?” said Morgant.
“You will have a choice,” said the Knight.
“I suppose you will not be any more specific,” said Morgant.
“I shall be very specific,” said the Knight, the smokeless fire in Annarah’s eyes flashing brighter. “Soon you shall find a relic of sorcery. A torque wrought of gold, marked with hieroglyphics, a scarab carved of green jade at its center.”
“This relic,” said Morgant. “Let me guess. It is some dire weapon of ancient Maatish sorcery that will destroy the world if used.”
“Not at all,” said the Knight.