path. The Dwarf, Terek Mott, while stolid and taciturn in the manner of Dwarves, was hungry for power and anxious to find a way to get past the Ard Rhys' rules and restrictions so that he could claim the destiny he so desperately craved. Pyson Wence, so frail and helpless–looking, was a snake trapped in a supplicant's body, a rare combination of treacherous instinct and decisive purpose. No superstitious tribal pagan, he wielded his magic in a cold and calculating fashion.
Had the Ard Rhys any inkling of their true dispositions when she accepted them into the order? Shadea a'Ru could not be certain. It was possible, if only because Grianne Ohmsford herself had been such a dark creature for so long—the Ilse Witch, the Morgawr's tool. She had found redemption, she believed, and so thought others could find it, as well. She was mistaken on both counts, but that was to the advantage of those gathered in this room, those who waited only on fate to provide them with the chance they needed to be rid of her.
As perhaps it did here, if their impatient leader could gain the pledge of support she required.
«You want her gone, don't you?» she asked Pyson Wence pointedly. «Dead or otherwise, but gone?» She looked around. «How about the rest of you? Changed your minds about her? Decided you like having her as Ard Rhys? Come! Speak up!»
«No one in this room and few outside of it want Grianne Ohmsford as Ard Rhys, Shadea.» Traunt Rowan looked bored. «We've covered this ground before, all of it. What keeps us from acting is the possibility of failure—a very real possibility, I might point out. Failure means no second chance. So before you start berating us for our reluctance, try to see the reality of the situation a little more clearly. When we act against her, we had better be very certain that we will succeed.»
The weight of her stare settled on him and she did not remove it for long seconds. The others shifted uncomfortably, but they said nothing for fear her eyes would seek them out instead. Traunt Rowan, to his credit, held her gaze, but she could see the uncertainty mirrored in his eyes. She might do anything; that was her reputation. If you provoked Shadea a'Ru—something not at all hard to do—you did so at great risk. One who had tested her had already disappeared. Everyone suspected that she might have caused that disappearance, even the Ard Rhys, but no one could prove it.
«I would not summon you with such urgency,' she said, speaking to Traunt, but including all of them with a quick shift of her eyes, «if I did not have a way to dispose of her that would pose no risk at all to any of us. I am aware of the possibility of failure. No matter how carefully we plan and execute, something can always go wrong. The trick is to make certain that even if that happens, no suspicion or blame will fall on us. But in this instance, I do not think we will fail. I think we will succeed better than we had hoped. Are you ready to hear me out?»
All nodded or at least kept quiet. Terek Molt never agreed or disagreed with anything. He simply stayed or walked away. Dwarves were given to physical gestures over words, which suited her fine. They were given to directness, as well, and it was good to have at least one of those among so many dissemblers.
«Wait!» Iridia hissed suddenly, one hand lifting sharply.
She rose from her bench, crossed the room to the door, and put her ear against it. The door was ironbound oak two inches thick and sealed with magic to prevent even the faintest echo of their voices from escaping. None of them cared to have even the smallest whisper drift beyond this chamber. The Ard Rhys already suspected they were plotting against her; what saved them was that others were doing so, as well. There was no time for Grianne to deal with all of them. Still, if she was ever to discover the particulars of this specific plot, they would be dealt with swiftly and thoroughly. The Ard Rhys might claim to no longer be the Ilse Witch, but she could revert in the blink of an eye. Not even Shadea a'Ru cared to go up against her if that happened.
That was a good part of the problem, of course. That Grianne Ohmsford was not simply the Ard Rhys, but that she was the Ilse Witch, too. It was not something any who had come to Paranor to join the Druid order could ignore. The past was the past, but it was always with you. She might claim to be a changed woman, having taken up the Ard Rhys mantle at the behest of Walker Boh, having been given the blessing of Druids dead and gone, and having pledged herself to reestablish the Druid Council as a viable force in the Four Lands. She might claim to be committed to helping the Races become strong, independent, and peaceful neighbors, to putting an end to the war between the Free–born and the Federation, and to reintroducing a mix of science and magic into the world for the betterment of all men and women. She might claim anything she wished, but that didn't change what everyone knew about her past. It didn't erase what she had done. In some cases, nothing could. It was too close, too personal—as with Traunt Rowan and Iridia Eleri, the two among these conspirators who sought vengeance for acts committed by the Ilse Witch and forgotten by the Ard Rhys. The others were simply hungry to employ their magic and sate their ambitions in ways that were forbidden. But for each, to realize desires meant getting rid of Grianne.
This tension didn't start and end with the five gathered in secret here. It manifested itself in other splinter groups, as well, all of them working to achieve something secret, all of them with goals and hungers that were in some way in conflict with the Third Druid Council as Grianne Ohmsford had conceived it. It wasn't a question of if she would be done away with; it was merely a question of when.
And a question of who would prove clever and bold enough to make it happen, of course. And then be strong enough to take charge of the order, once she was gone and a new Ard Rhys was needed.
Some part of Shadea a'Ru, some tiny bit of reason shoved far back into the darker corners of her consciousness, accepted that not all of those who had come to Paranor to begin life as Druids felt as she did. Some admired Grianne and believed her right for the position—strong, determined, tested, and unafraid. But Shadea a'Ru would not allow herself to think well of those because to do so might give credibility to their loyalty, and she believed that to be a weakness she could not afford. Better to see them as sycophants and deceivers and to plan for their removal, as well, once the path was clear to do so.
Iridia was still standing by the door, listening. Everyone was waiting on her now, watching silently. «What is it?» Shadea asked finally, irritated and impatient.
The sorceress stepped back and stared at the portal as if it were an enemy that needed dispatching. Her distrust of everyone and everything ran deep and unchecked. Even Shadea herself merited Iridia's suspicion. She was beautiful and talented, but deeply flawed. Her personal demons ran loose through her predatory mind, and someday they were going to turn on her.
«I heard something moving,' she said, turning away, dismissing the matter. «I just wanted to be certain the warding was still in place.»
«You set it yourself,' Shadea pointed out.
Iridia did not look at her. «It could have been tampered with. Better to be sure.» She returned to the bench and sat down. For a moment, she said nothing more. Then she glanced up at Shadea, as if remembering her. «What were you saying?»
«She was saying she has found a way to solve our problem with the Ard Rhys.» Traunt Rowan picked up the loose thread of the conversation with his calming voice. «Without posing any danger to us.»
«There is a potion I have a chance to obtain,' Shadea told them. «Mixed with a spell, it produces a magic strong enough to work against anyone, no matter how well prepared they are. The potion is called liquid night. Together with the spell, it will dispatch the intended victim to another place. It doesn't kill them; they simply disappear. No blame attaches because there is no body. There isn't even a residue to tell any searchers what happened. Everything disappears in a few hours, victim and magic alike.»
Pyson shook his head. «There is no such magic. I know most, have read about the ones I do not know, and I have never heard of liquid night.»
«That is because it isn't from this world,' Shadea said. «It is from the world into which I am sending the Ard Rhys.»
They stared at her with a mix of expressions. «What world would that be?» Traunt Rowan asked finally.
She shook her head. «Oh, no, Traunt. I don't give you anything more until after I have your word that you are committed to me and to what I am proposing. I am the one who sought the potion out, and I intend to keep the particulars my own. All you need to know is that once I have implemented it, you will never see the Ard Rhys again.»
«But she will not be dead,' Pyson Wence persisted doubtfully. «If she is not dead, there is always a chance she can find her way back. She has more lives than a cat. You know her history, Shadea. She is not like anyone else. I like her no better than you, but I respect her ability to stay alive.»
Shadea nodded in agreement. Idiot. «She won't be coming back from where I intend to send her, Pyson. No
