Elvenborn

'Wow I under­stand! You think Lord Kyndreth has targeted me at you—or perhaps, your master! Be at ease, friend; Lord Kyrtian is in no danger that I know of, other than from his own conniving cousin. And you're in no danger at all, least of all from me.'

It felt honest. Gel wanted to believe him.

'But you don't deny you're an assassin—' Gel's instincts warred with his intellect. His instincts and his senses swore that Kaeth was telling the truth—his more cynical mind warned him that this was just a trick. Still, he was very tempted to release the fellow; this just didn't seem like a lie.

'Hardly, since you seem to have caught me as one,' Kaeth replied, with a surprising amount of humor. 'Although my own Lord isn't nearly as observant as you, since he is totally un­aware of my training; I went to him, bought at auction after the

unlamented death of my old lord. Still, once an assassin, as they say, the cloak never drops from your shoulders—so I'll qualify it by admitting for Lyon Lord Kyndreth, I'm an active agent, but an inactive assassin, nor am I ever likely to let him know of my more esoteric abilities.'

'Huh.' Slowly, carefully, Gel rocked his weight back onto his own feet, and released Kaeth's wrists. Just as slowly, Kaeth dropped his hands from the wall and rubbed, then flexed, his wrists, testing them. 'And just how did you become an inactive assassin?'

'Look for yourself.' Kaeth reached up and pulled the neck of his tunic open, then tilted his chin up so that Gel could see his slave-collar clearly. It wasn't the seal of Lyon Lord Kyn­dreth there, but that of the deceased—and, as Kaeth had said, unlamented—Lord Dyran.

Things were beginning to add up.

The noble Lord Dyran, who trained all manner of slaves in skills best left unexamined.. . and whose estate was broken up and divided among his relatives, with what was left going to auction. And that was where I saw another assassin!

That seal couldn't possibly be counterfeited, either. The fact that he was still wearing Dyran's collar meant that he'd been claimed after Dyran's death—otherwise the new master would insist on having the old collar removed and his own put on. Gel backed up, giving him a little more space. 'Interesting.'

'My beloved former master,' Kaeth said, with a touch of ironic inflection on the word 'beloved' that did not escape Gel's notice, 'Was not the sort of Elvenlord to forget the tradi­tions of his Ancestors.'

'Including assassination?' Gel replied evenly.

Kaeth nodded with a dignity that impressed Gel in spite of himself. 'Even so. I was trained from childhood, having shown unusual ability for getting into and out of supposedly guarded spaces and places without being caught. Whether or not you choose to believe me, I will say that my training was never em­ployed against Elvenlords....'

'Not that Dyran would have hesitated if he'd thought he

could get away with it,' Gel interjected. Again, Kaeth nodded, this time with a shrug.

'Be that as it may, my usual tasks were to act as his intelli­gence agent, which is how I was employed at the time of his de­mise. And, not knowing any better, that is how my talents were advertised when the estate was broken up and the slaves went to auction, as an agent and bodyguard.' Kaeth turned his palms up, and shrugged his shoulders again.

'And you, of course, were under no compulsion to enlighten the auctioneers.” Gel felt a reluctant smile creeping over his lips; if this story was true, Kaeth was a very clever fellow in­deed. Hardly likely he 'd tell them, when it was a lot more likely that the other Elvenlords would order him destroyed rather than take the chance of one of their number getting his hands on a trained assassin. 'I don't suppose it ever occurred to you to bolt?'

'Of course it did,' Kaeth replied, and sat down on the bench, indicating to Gel that he should do the same. 'Oh, don't worry about anyone overhearing us. If there had been anyone listen­ing or watching, they'd have been in here the moment you went for my throat. I cost Kyndreth a very pretty penny, and he'd take it personally if someone deprived him of my services.'

And this could be a set-up, but it's getting rather too unlikely and complicated— no, I think I'll go with my instincts and take him at his word.

'Naturally, it occurred to me to flee to the Wizards and the Wild Humans,' he repeated, 'But—well, 1 learned a few things about these collars that I wasn't supposed to. Only Dyran could compel me magically, and once he was dead, no other Elven-lord can harm me through this collar, unless he is Dyran's equal or better in power. That was a reason to run. But Dyran was as clever a bastard as his reputation claimed—I can still be traced and pursued through the collar, and any attempt to take it off will deprive me of my head. That was Dyran's little fail-safe in case anyone ever decided to subvert me.'

Gel winced; that took powerful magic, and it took a particu­larly cruel mind to think of it.

'So, on the whole, it seemed better for everyone that I turn myself in as one of Dyran's slaves and go up for auction with the rest,' Kaeth concluded with a lazy smile. 'After all, I still had the option to bolt if my new master proved unbearable, and I'd be able to plan my escape so that I'd have a decent chance to get so far away before they discovered I was missing that it wouldn't be worth pursuit. At the time of Dyran's death I was in a position where that wasn't a possibility.'

'What if Kyndreth ever finds out from another of Dyran's slaves—' Gel began, but Kaeth interrupted him with a gentle shake of his head.

'It's not likely, since everyone who ever knew what I was trained for is dead—mostly at Dyran's hands, I might add.' For just a moment, there was a shade of bitterness in his voice, but he quickly covered it. 'And of all the Old Lords, frankly, Kyn­dreth is the least likely to use an assassin. He's powerful enough to do his own dirty work, and ruthless enough to enjoy doing so. No, I'm out of the business, unless for some reason it becomes necessary to re-enter it long enough to protect myself. On the whole, I'm rather enjoying myself. Kyndreth treats ex­pensive property well, and my duties are light, compared to those I had under Dyran.'

Gel didn't miss the veiled threat in those words, but he shrugged them off. 'I don't give a flying damn what you do with your skills, as long as you're not targeting Kyrtian.' He couldn't help it; a note of fierce protectiveness crept into his voice.

Kaeth blinked slowly, and looked deeply and penetratingly into Gel's eyes for a moment. 'Interesting,' he murmured. 'I'd heard rumors about Lord Kyrtian's people ...'

Then he shook his head, as if it was no consequence. 'I over­hear a great deal, as all bodyguards do, and Kyndreth has the usual failing of our masters that he forgets how much his slaves see and hear. I hope you will believe me when I tell you that Kyndreth's plans are such, and so complex, that it is unlikely he could ever fit a trained assassin into them with any degree of confidence.'

'Maybe against the Old Lords, and the lords that haven't re-

volted,' Gel objected, 'but what about the Young Lords who are still in revolt?'

'A bare possibility if they actually developed a leader with enough charisma to make them all work together.' Kaeth ad­mitted. 'But it's more likely that cattle will fly before that hap­pens. And besides, even if he did, sons aren't so thick on the ground that the victim's relatives would be very happy that the errant lad had been eliminated rather than returned to the parental fold.' He smiled, but this time there was no humor in it. 'After all, a youngster who has had all thoughts of rebellion neatly wiped from his mind can still function to sire the next genera­tion, even if the rest of the time all he does is sit in a corner and drool.'

That shocked Gel; he'd heard rumors that some of the Old Lords had the ability to tamper with another Elvenlord's mind and memory, but this was the first time anyone had said any­thing that