produce something atypical to your world. I would make use of it. It raises you far above the mass of insects you call your 'people.' Now, with my help and instruction, you will rise beyond your wildest dreams.'
'My dreams are not wild and I do not care to rise above them. As for help and instruction, I have already chosen a consort to share my life with me.'
Laughter seemed beyond the creature. 'You have chosen a paltry kingdom on an insignificant planet. I do not blame you for this. It is all you know. But there is more to the universe, much more. Why have a kingdom when you could rule an entire world? You could be queen and satrap in one, ruling absolutely.'
'I have no desire to rule at all, absolutely or otherwise. I have chosen love.'
'Love is fleeting,' the Beast replied. 'An abstract notion that humans have clung to for far too long. It cripples you, makes you susceptible to the manipulations of others. Only power is eternal. You must learn to rise above such childish notions. You must grow.'
'One who rises beyond love has no soul.'
'One who has power need not worry about such superstitious nonsense.'
A clawed hand sprang to light in the darkness. As Lyssa stared, it became a ball of flame and leaped at her. She closed her eyes, expecting death. Instead, she found herself witness to a graphic demonstration of the Beast's power.
The flame slammed into the wall behind her, cracking and scorching the material while leaving her cool and untouched. It backed off the wall and enveloped her for a bright orange instant before she felt herself rising in the chill flame's grip. It held her suspended for a moment, then set her down as gently as it had picked her up, and finally shrank to become a tiny, intense globe of drifting energy.
The fireball crawled up her leg, across her side and arm, and as she stared at it curling and rippling in her palm, became a freshly opened rose, its petals damp with dew. Behind her the wall smoked and gave off strange thick smells.
'Such is my power,' the Beast rumbled, its voice echoing around the chamber. 'It can be yours. What are infantile notions of love compared to this? You can command an army of men to do your bidding. All you have to do is desire it.'
'I already command an army of men.'
There was the fleeting image of a great arm moving through an arc in the darkness. 'I see no army.'
'Set me free and you shall see such an army as Krull has not seen in a hundred years.'
'Ah, that I will not do. Consider, Lyssa. I offer you power far greater than any you can imagine.'
'I don't want your power. I don't want anything that is a part of you, anything you have touched, anything you have made. I want nothing to do with anything that has your hand in it.'
'Is it my form that frightens you? Is that what keeps you so set against the sharing I offer? That is easily remedied.'
As she watched, the great reptilian eyes blurred, seemed to drop nearer the floor. The pupils became rounded, as did the eyes themselves. They advanced toward her. Soon they were near enough for her to see that they looked out at her from Colwyn's face, and she could not repress a gasp. Save for the red that shone deep within, she could not tell that the eyes regarding her were not Colwyn's.
'I can assume any form I wish. Whatever pleases you I can become. It is an art my people have practiced for a long time. Think. Any form at all. If you would prefer a cat or a watchful dog, I can become those as easily. Any form you wish, Lyssa of Eirig.'
'What about an ant? Could you become an ant?'
'I am no infant. Do not think to toy with me. I can punish as well as reward. I would expect you to choose this form.'
'There is no love in that form. There is nothing you can become that will hide what you are. There is no love in one who murders and destroys for pleasure.'
'I do not deny that the activities of my Slayers provide me with amusement, but you are wrong if you think there is no more to it than that. There is purpose as well.' The voice remained that of the Beast, for all that it issued from Colwyn's mouth.
'You still think love better than power? You think there is love in your boy-king? You are as naive as any of your people. Behold.'
The figure turned and gestured at the wall. It split, to reveal night and tall trees instead of the glowing corridor outside the chamber. As she watched, it seemed that they moved closer, until she was standing just to one side of a towering forest giant.
Figures stood there, one that she recognized instantly. Colwyn was leaning back against the shaggy bark. She had no doubt that it was the real Colwyn, her Colwyn, and not some false image conjured up by the Beast to deceive her.
But who was the lithe young woman who clung so tightly to him, and whose embrace he did not reject?
She whirled to confront the Beast. 'It's a lie! You say you can assume any form. I have heard of how you manipulate faces and bodies as easily as a sculptor plays with clay. Why should I believe that that'—she gestured at the image before them—'is any more real than the form you cling to now? You are as full of lies as a solicitor. You think to fool me with clever prevarication, but I am not so easily swayed.'
'Indeed you are not, for you refuse the evidence of your own eyes. These walls do not lie. I have no reason to deceive you now, not when the truth works for me. Your Colwyn will betray you.'
'He will not!'
'Then he will die,' said the Beast calmly. 'Either way, you will be rid of this silly, immature human infatuation. It will simplify your future.'
Lyssa turned back to the image, unable to tear her eyes from it. Go away, she shouted silently! Vanish, disappear! I don't want to look upon you. But the image did not vanish, and she continued to stare at it.
The woman in Colwyn's arms was crying. Lyssa noted out of the corner of an eye that the Beast seemed to be observing the scene with equal interest. Even as she stared, the pale blue of the woman's eyes turned to black. Lyssa would have screamed save that she knew her warning cry would go unheard. Black eyes—as black as those of the Slayers, nearly as black as those of the Beast. The woman was something other than she appeared, and Lyssa had no way of alerting Colwyn.
Vella clasped the man tightly against her. She could sense that he was wavering, but still he resisted. 'I have not held a man in my arms since my lover was swallowed up by the sea. It is good. You are a strong man, Colwyn. Lend me some of that strength.'
'I know how painful it is to be far from the one you love,' he murmured uncomfortably. 'We share a common pain.'
'Then, comfort me for one night, and let me comfort you. Share your strength with me, Colwyn. Have pity on me.'
'Would that I might, but I can't betray my bride.'
'One night is no betrayal. None need know what transpires in this place. I have listened to your men talk, and they say you are not truly married yet.'
'It is true the ceremony was not finished.'
'Then how can you speak of a betrayal?'
Colwyn's hand moved to touch first his chest, then his forehead. 'Betrayal is more than a word. It is a thing that lies here and here. Not in the loins. I could comfort you as you desire, but you are wrong when you say none would know of it. / would know. That would be betrayal enough. I feel sorrow and sympathy for you, but I do not put aside a great trust so easily. Nor love. I can't take comfort with you when my true love has none.'
'You will not, then?'
'Vella, in another time, another place, another existence, I would gladly lie with you. But that would be a different Colwyn, and you would be a different Vella. I cannot.'
'Truly, I would be a different Vella,' she whispered. Her right hand was behind him. It blurred, distorting. The fingers extended and the soft flesh turned to a horn-tough, scaly substance.
Lyssa could not stifle the useless scream in her throat, but Colwyn could not hear her as the claw rose toward his neck.
It stopped there, hesitating. 'My master told me,' Vella muttered with difficulty, as though talking to herself unwillingly, 'make him betray her. If he will not, kill him.'
