get his body and his life back again.
The question was, now that he was far from the lands that he had known, could they act this far from the Plains? The Goddess was not known for being able to do much far from the borders of Her own lands. She had limited Her own power, of Her own will, at the beginning of time - as all the Powers had chosen to do, to keep the world from becoming a battleground of conflicting deities. She would not break Her own rules.
And yet...and yet...
She was clever; She could work around the rules without breaking them. If She chose.
If he proved that he was worthy. That was the other thing to keep in mind; She only helped those who had done their part, who had gone to the end of their own abilities, and had no other recourse. If he were to be worthy of Her help, it was up to him to do everything in his power, without waiting for the Star-Eyed to come rescue him.
He would, above all, have to be very, very careful. Just because Falconsbane was damaged now, it did not do to think he would continue to be at a disadvantage. If there was one thing An'desha had learned from watching the Adept, it was this; never underestimate Mornelithe Falconsbane - and always be, not doubly, but triply careful whenever doing anything around him.
But - he dared, just for a moment, to send a whisper of prayer into the darkness of the chamber. To Her.
Remember me - and help me, if You will -
Then the sound of footsteps outside the chamber door made him flee back into his hiding place, before Falconsbane was awakened, or woke on his own.
He reached that safety, just as the door opened, and Falconsbane stirred up out of the depths of sleep.
The sound of his door opening and closing roused him from slumber. Falconsbane opened his eyes a mere slit.
It was enough to betray him to his observer.
'I see you are awake.' The smooth young voice identified the speaker at once, even before Ancar moved into the faint light cast by a shadowed lantern near the bed. 'I hope you are enjoying my hospitality.'
Falconsbane refused to allow himself to show any emotion. He simply studied his captor, committing every nuance of expression to memory. Falconsbane knew well the value of every scrap of information, and the more he knew about Ancar of Hardorn, the sooner he would be able to defeat the boy.
He was a handsome young man, showing few signs of the dissipation that Falconsbane suspected. But if he had achieved the position of Master, he surely knew all the tricks by which a mage could delay the onset of aging, strengthen the body, and even make it more comely. Only an Adept could actually change the body, as Falconsbane had done with both his own form and that of others. But a Master could hold his own body in youth for a very long time, if he had sufficient energies. Life-energies would serve the best, the life-energies of others. One could steal years, decades, from other lives and add them to one's own. Or one could steal the entire remaining life-span. Easily done; very tempting and a very useful skill to learn. For Mornelithe, in days long ago, it had approached being a hobby.
Ancar of Hardorn was certainly a young man that women would find attractive; his straight, black hair was thick and luxuriant, his mustache and beard well-groomed. Neither hid the sensual mouth, a mouth that smiled easily, if falsely. The square face was pleasantly sculptured, the dark eyes neither piggishly small nor bovinely large. But the eyes did give him away, for they were flat, expressionless, and dead. The eyes of someone who sees others only as objects - as things to use, destroy, or ignore. A more experienced man would have learned how even to manipulate the expressions of his eyes, as Falconsbane had. Mornelithe fancied that he could convince anyone of anything, if he chose to. He was certainly convincing this Ancar that his 'Master' had him cowed and under control.
Falconsbane considered his answer carefully before making it. How much to reveal? If he seemed too submissive, Ancar might suspect something. A mere touch of defiance, perhaps. A faint hint of rebellion. 'I cannot say that 'enjoy' is the term I would use.'
Ancar laughed, although there was no humor in the sound. 'I see you have regained some of your wits at last. Good. I will ask you some questions that have puzzled me.'
Since that was not a direct question, Falconsbane made no answering comment. Ancar waited for a moment, then said sharply, 'What is your true name? And where do you come from?'
The coercions tightened about his mind, forcing answers from him, but he made them as literal as he could. 'Mornelithe Falconsbane. I came from the Void, where you found me.'
That last was enough to confuse him. Falconsbane preferred that Ancar not learn his true place of origin. Not yet, at least.
Ancar's brow furrowed as he considered this. 'Are you an Adept?' he asked at last. 'Are you a demon?'
