The Napan scowled. ‘And how many hundreds of spies do we have in this camp? And what of the Whirlwind Goddess herself-do you imagine she will permit the infiltration of strangers?’
‘Your flaw, Korbolo Dom, is that you think in a strictly linear fashion. Ask that question again, only this time ask it in the context of the goddess having suspicions about us.’
The High Mage was too distracted to notice the Napan’s half-step forward, one hand lifting. But Korbolo Dom’s blow died at that very moment, as the import of Kamist Reloe’s challenge reached him. His eyes slowly widened. Then he shook his head. ‘No, that would be too great a risk to take. A Claw let loose in this camp would endanger everyone- there would be no way to predict their targets-’
‘Would there be a need to?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We are the Dogslayers , Korbolo Dom. The murderers of Coltaine, the Seventh, and the legions at Aren. More, we also possess the mage cadre for the Army of the Apocalypse. Finally, who will be commanding that army on the day of battle? How many reasons do the Claw need to strike at us, and at us specifically? What chance would Sha’ik have if we were all dead? Why kill Sha’ik at all? We can fight this war without her and her damned goddess-we’ve done it before. And we’re about to-’
‘Enough of that, Kamist Reloe. I see your point. So, you fear that the goddess will permit a Claw to infiltrate… in order to deal with us. With you, Febryl and myself. An interesting possibility, but I still think it remote. The goddess is too heavy-handed, too ensnared by emotion, to think with such devious, insidious clarity.’
‘She does not have to initiate the scheme, Korbolo Dom. She need only comprehend the offer , and then decide either to acquiesce or not. It is not her clarity that is relevant, but that of Laseen’s Claw. And do you doubt the cleverness of Topper?’
Growling under his breath, Korbolo Dom looked away for a moment. ‘No,’ he finally admitted. ‘But I do rely on the goddess being in no mind to accept communication from the Empress, from Topper, or anyone else who refuses to kneel to her will. You have thought yourself into a nightmare, Kamist Reloe, and now you invite me to join you. I decline the offer, High Mage. We are well protected, and too far advanced in our efforts for all of this fretting.’
‘I have survived this long, Korbolo Dom, because of my talent in anticipating what my enemies would attempt. Soldiers say no plan of battle survives contact with the enemy. But the game of subterfuge is the very opposite. Plans derive from persistent contact with the enemy. Thus, you proceed on your terms, and I will proceed on mine.’
‘As you like. Now, leave me. It is late, and I would sleep.’
The High Mage stopped pacing to fix the Napan with an unreadable look for a moment, then he swung about and left the chamber.
Korbolo listened until he heard the flap in the outer room swish open, then close. He listened on, and was satisfied to hear the draws being tightened by one of his bodyguards positioned just outside the entrance.
Draining the last of the wine- damned expensive but tastes no different from the dockside swill I choked down on the Isle- he flung the goblet down and strode to the mass of cushions at the far end. Beds in every room. I wonder what that signifies of my personality? Then again, those other ones are not for sleeping in, are they. No, only this one …
In the front room on the other side of the silk partitions, the woman lay unmoving on her own heap of cushions, where Korbolo had left her some time back.
Continuous, overwhelming imbibing of durhang-like any other intoxicant-created a process of diminishment of its effects. Until, while a layer of insensate numbness still persisted-a useful barrier against such things as having her head yanked up by her hair then dropped back down-cool awareness remained beneath it.
Advantageous, as well, the rituals her master had inflicted upon her, rituals that eliminated the weakness of pleasure. There could be no loss of control, not any more, for her mind no longer warred with feelings, for of feelings she had none. An easy surrender, she had found to her delight, for there had been little in her life before her initiation to seed warm remembrances of childhood.
And so she was well suited to this task. Uttering the right sounds of pleasure to disguise her indifference to all of Korbolo Dom’s peculiar preferences. And lying motionless, unmindful even of a throat slowly filling with phlegm from the near-liquid smoke of the durhang, for as much time as was needed, before the subtle, tasteless drops she had added to his wine took effect.
When she could hear his deep, slow breaths that told her he would not easily awaken, she rolled onto her side in a fit of coughing. When it had passed she paused again, just to be certain that the Napan still slept. Satisfied, she clambered to her feet and tottered to the tent flap.