Elvenborn

their sides, at the very least,

and might well find a patron powerful enough that he can take everything from them, he thought with satisfaction. She read that implicit threat clearly enough.

He'd mentioned Aelmarkin for just that reason. In this partic­ular game of hounds-and-alicorns, Lord Kyndreth had herded the hounds into exactly the positions he wanted them.

His slaves undressed him and he slipped into the silk lounging-robe one of them held out for him. As always, his bodyguard Kaeth was in unobtrusive attendance, and when the last slave left the room, Kaeth remained, a faithful shadow, to be ignored—or not. Kaeth was equally receptive to either condition.

Kaeth's training must have been impeccable; Lord Kyndreth only wished that he could have gotten Kaeth's trainers along with the bodyguard. When the slave grew too old to serve, it would be difficult to replace him, and it would by necessity be with an inferior specimen.

Kyndreth turned his back on his bodyguard and took a seat beside an illusory fire burning in the very real marble fire­place—one of the few illusions in this suite. The flames danced with rainbow colors, and as the fire 'burned,' it gave off a pleasant scent of cedar and aloes-wood, but no heat.

'Well, Kaeth,' Kyndreth said to the fire, 'the boy will take the bait, I've no doubt. He doesn't dare refuse it.'

'True, my Lord.' As always, Kaeth was as economical with words as with everything else. 'He'll accept by morning, I ex­pect.'

'He's as good as I think.' That was a statement; Kyndreth didn't expect Kaeth to disagree. 'The boy is going to break the deadlock for us. The only reason Aelmarkin managed to con­vince everyone that he was half-mad was because he stayed mewed up here. Anyone who had bothered to talk with him for more than half an hour would have known he was sane—and brilliant. If he'd been out in society, Aelmarkin wouldn't have had a chance of making a laughing-stock out of him.'

'He is better than you think, my Lord.'

Astonished, Lord Kyndreth swiveled his head to look at his normally laconic bodyguard. 'Indeed?' he managed. By the Ancestors, I can't remember the last time Kaeth volunteered a

comment, much less an opinion! This youngster must be some­thing truly out of the ordinary!

'I have examined his library, his strategy-room, and some of his own writings, my lord. I also watched his men when he commanded them. It is one thing to command men; it is another to lead them. Lord Kyrtian is a leader. Men may not always obey a commander—or at least, they may only obey the letter of his commands, but not exert themselves beyond that—but they will always follow a leader.' Kaeth's unreadable expres­sion did not change by so much as a hair, but Lord Kyndreth fancied he'd heard the faintest hint of approval in the body­guard's voice.

Interesting. Very interesting.

He turned back to the fire. It wouldn't do to give Kaeth too much direct attention. The slave was intelligent, highly intelli­gent, and Kyndreth needed to be very careful how he handled the man. Too much attention might give him a sense of self-importance that could affect his usefulness. 'All the more rea­son to put him in charge of the army. Half the time Lord Levelis has to drive the troops into action with pain and punishment. If the troops had some other motivation, that alone might ensure our victory.'

'Lord Levelis,' came the surprising reply, 'will be mortally offended by being replaced by a—Lesser Lord.'

Again, Kaeth had volunteered an observation. Lord Kyrtian must have impressed the man so much that Kaeth's careful self-control was cracking a trifle. Kyndreth laughed mirthlessly. 'By an eccentric nobody, you mean, but of course cannot say. If his dear cousin is to be believed, a half-mad nobody. Lord Lev­elis will have to survive being offended; he has done nothing to endear himself to me, he has bungled every attempt at putting down the rebels, and he is not one of my adherents. I can afford to offend him; let his patron find a way to console him.'

There was no reply; the human really couldn't reply to the statements without being insolent, and Lord Kyndreth would not tolerate insolence, even from a slave as trusted as his bodyguard.

'The boy's position will be safe enough when it is clear that I am his patron,' Kyndreth continued for Kaeth's benefit. 'I

could have him installed tomorrow, if I chose. Levelis has bun­gled too many times, and he will not dare move against me or anyone I choose to replace him with.'

'Perhaps not against you—but out on the battlefield, Lord Kyrtian will no longer be under your direct supervision or pro­tection. Lord Levelis may move against him there; my Lord, the battlefield is a chance-ridden place, and accidents do hap­pen to even the most careful.'

Well, well! I do believe that is another opinion!

Kyndreth could not resist the temptation to see what else he could draw out of Kaeth—further observations, even sugges­tions? This was more than the bodyguard had shown of himself in years!

'Perhaps I should send you to watch out for his welfare,' he half-jested.

'I will do whatever you direct, my Lord,' came the expres­sionless reply, and Kyndreth sighed with disappointment. Kaeth had revealed all that he was going to—and probably would not venture so much as a bland comment for the next year.

Kyndreth had no intention of assigning Kaeth—who was far too valuable where he was—to the task of seeing to Kyrtian's well-being. The boy will either be able to protect himself, or not. And if he cannot, then he does not deserve my patronage. There was that bodyguard of his own, after all—a man who had come very close to defeating Kaeth in combat. Having that par­ticular slave in his train showed a certain amount of self-preserving sense.

Levelis wouldn't be able to eliminate him until after he'd broken the stalemate, anyway, and by then the real work would be done, and Levelis could have his old position back if he re­ally wanted it. By that point, Kyndreth would have what he wanted; credit for breaking the backs of the rebels, and when the rebels were defeated, Kyrtian would be—

—expendable. Still useful, perhaps, but expendable.

Gel had stood silent watch throughout the long meal, listening to the conversation with a face as impassive as that of the body­guard Kaeth—and when the servants vanished he did the same.

But he didn't go far. Like every public room in this manor, there was a spy-hole where a trusted confederate could listen to the Elvenlords when they thought they were speaking among themselves.

He didn't trust Lord Kyndreth. No matter how that particular Elvenlord acted, he would never do anything that wasn't in his own interest; solely and completely in his own interest. He might lull others into believing that he acted out of—say— friendship, or even the altruistic wish to do someone who might deserve help a favor, but there would always be a hidden reason for such actions, and either a later cost, or a current benefit.

It was moderately interesting to hear Kyndreth speaking so openly in front of, and to, his bodyguard Kaeth. It wasn't un­heard of or out-of-character, though; after all, what was the use of having a fully-trained and intelligent bodyguard if you didn't make use of all of his skills?

The spy-hole was a clever little construction, built where the chimney would have actually been had the fireplace been real and functional. There was enough room to sit comfortably with one ear to the wall, forehead resting against a padded proj­ection, in the utter darkness—not a single peep-hole, not even a thin little crack to betray the possible presence of a spy here.

So, the current commander is going to be an enemy. That was no surprise, though