who, confident that under the circumstances the Hulorn and the Scepters will look the other way, might seize on the incident as an excuse to make war on us. Do you want to see your name dishonored, your ancestral home burned, and your kinsmen slaughtered or driven into exile, just as it happened to Thamalon's people?'
'Brother, you're waxing hysterical. It's inconceivable that such a calamity will befall us.'
'No, it isn't,' Nuldrevyn said, 'and we have to take cognizance of all the possibilities.'
'And let them paralyze us?' the spellcaster asked.
'I just ask you to remember that there's more to life than vengeance,' Nuldrevyn said. 'There's the pride we feel in the honor, power, and wealth of our House. The joys and luxuries our position affords us. We have a new generation just coming up, Ossian and all the others like him, and I feel an obligation to pass the Talendar way of life on intact to them.'
Marance shook his head. 'Brother, I'll be candid with you. I don't know if it was the simple fact of death that changed me, or if my years in the underworld are responsible, but the truth is that I don't entirely remember what it is to take pride in the House of Talendar, or to fret about its future. Oh, I know in the abstract that I once cared about such matters, but only the cold ash of those feelings remains. In contrast, I still retain a considerable yen for revenge, and you must pardon me if I satisfy it without a second of unnecessary delay.'
'But you already have,' Ossian said. 'The man who killed you is dead, as is his wife. I promise I won't rest until his offspring perish, also. So can't you be satisfied for just a little while, until we devise another plan? I understand that, thanks to Thamalon Uskevren, you passed through pain and horror, but you came out all right, didn't you? You still exist, you're a grandee in your Iron City-'
'The highest lord in Hell is still in Hell,' Marance snapped. 'Kindly refrain from commenting on what you can't understand. Nuldrevyn, I've heard your objections, and answered them as best I could. Beyond that, I can only pledge to be careful. Now, for sake of the love we bear one another, and the hatred we both hold for the House of Uskevren, I beg you to consent to my plan.'
Nuldrevyn swallowed. 'I'm sorry, but I cannot.'
A trace of sadness came into Marance's face. 'I'm sorry, too,' he said. He rose from his chair, and though nothing in his manner so much as hinted at hostile intent, the Talendar lord abruptly sensed that Marance meant to direct some sort of magic against Ossian and himself.
Ossian had apparently come to the same conclusion, for he surged up out of his seat. By a lucky chance, he'd ventured out of the castle earlier today, and was still carrying a long sword. The gold-hilted weapon hissed as he yanked it from its scabbard.
For his part, Nuldrevyn lacked a sword, but since boyhood, had never been without a dagger ready to hand. He rose as hastily as his stiff joints would allow, and silently drew the knife from its well-oiled sheath.
Ossian lunged at Marance fast and hard, trying to dispatch him before he could cast a spell. The wizard parried the chest cut with his staff. Gray steel rang on black wood, and purple sparks crackled at the point of contact. The ginger-haired youth reeled backward, and Marance reached into his mantle to fish out the necessary ingredient for a spell.
That, Nuldrevyn thought, was all right, because to deal with the son, Marance had turned his back on the father. Perhaps the wizard thought the patriarch of the House of Talendar was too ancient and infirm to pose any sort of threat. If so, Nuldrevyn would show him just how wrong he was. One thrust to the spine should end this confrontation and send his wayward brother back to the Pit. He wouldn't enjoy doing it, but with Ossian imperiled he saw no other choice.
Nuldrevyn took a split second to aim his blade at a specific target, in this case, a point midway between Marance's shoulder blades. The old man started to step into distance, and a huge black snake reared up in front of him.
Even as Nuldrevyn cried out, recoiled, lost his balance, and fell, he discerned it wasn't an actual serpent, just Bileworm mimicking one, but the knowledge didn't help. No matter how he tried, he couldn't force himself to get back up, not with the spirit's murky, wedge-shaped head looming over him. All he could do was cower and watch the duel between his son and brother unfold.
Ossian had recovered his equilibrium and was pushing Marance back with a rapid series of feints, deceives, and attacks. The knobbed end of the wizard's staff sizzled with purple flame, and he held it extended to slow his adversary's advance. Meanwhile Marance chanted, swept his unweaponed hand in a mystic pass, and tossed a pinch of black dust into the air.
The air turned hot, then cold. For an instant, a bitter taste stung Nuldrevyn's tongue. Magenta fire blazed from the staff and engulfed the old man's son.
To Nuldrevyn's horror, Ossian dwindled in stature, so quickly that the eye could barely follow the process. One instant, he was taller than his foe. The next, small as a mouse.
'That doesn't look good at all,' said Bileworm to Nuldrevyn. 'Don't you want to go help the boy? You know I'm made of gossamer. I can't stop you.' He flickered out a forked tongue into his prisoner's face, and Nuldrevyn sobbed and cringed.
Ossian dropped his pin-sized sword and bolted for the doorway. Marance discarded his staff-the purple flame went out as soon as it left his hand-whirled the cloak off his shoulders, and cast it like a net. The garment fell on top of the shrunken man.
Marance hurried up to the cape, kneeled, groped about for a moment, then located Ossian beneath it. He held the young aristocrat immobile with one hand, reached under the garment with the other, and extracted him.
'I regret it came to this,' Marance said to the squirming mite in his fist. 'I've grown truly fond of you.'
He picked up the cloak, stuffed Ossian into one of the larger pockets on the inside, then squeezed the opening shut. Nuldrevyn could see the youth struggling inside the cloth for a little while, and then the motion stopped.
Nuldrevyn's best-loved son had died of asphyxia, and, paralyzed by his dread of snakes, he hadn't lifted a finger to save him. His eyes stinging with tears, the old man wished that same crippling fear would stop his heart.
'I'm sorry,' Marance told him. He removed Ossian's corpse from the pocket and set it on the floor.
'You monster!' Nuldrevyn whispered.
'That's unfair,' the mage said. 'I wanted you and the lad for my allies, never my enemies, but you turned on me. Yet even so, I don't wish to kill you, that's what a devoted, forgiving brother I am. However, I will need to keep you from interfering in my plan.'
Marance retrieved his staff, put on his cloak, and took a candle from one of the pockets. He held the taper aloft, recited words of power, and turned widdershins. A purple flame kindled itself on the wick, ghostly voices murmured, and a gigantic snake shimmered into existence on the floor.
Marance pointed to his brother, and the serpent obediently slithered in Nuldrevyn's direction. Its copper eyes, the candlelight rippling on its steel-gray scales, and the cold thickness of its sinuous coils were so overwhelmingly ghastly they made Bileworm's impersonation of a snake seem ludicrous by comparison. Weeping and whimpering, Nuldrevyn floundered helplessly away from the new and even more intimidating terror.
In a few seconds, he backed himself into a corner. Black tongue dancing, the snake raised its head high and stared down at him. Meanwhile, Bileworm flowed back into something approximating human form.
The ferule of his staff tapping on the floor, Marance walked closer to his brother. 'As you may be aware,' said the mage, 'summoned creatures often vanish back to their points of origin after a relatively brief period of service. But you mustn't get your hopes up, because I made certain this one will linger long past midnight. While it's watching over you, you mustn't call for help or try to escape, else the beast will strike, and its bite is venomous in the extreme.'
'Can't we just kill him?' Bileworm wheedled. 'Don't I need to become him so I can direct his retainers to obey your commands?'
'They'll take orders from young Ossian just as well.'
Bobbing up and down, swaying this way and that, Bileworm made a show of inspecting the diminutive corpse. 'It's going to be a very tight fit,' he said, 'and I think the guards might notice a difference.'
Marance sighed. 'The body will revert to its former dimensions in a bit.'
'Aha!' said the spirit. 'Well, in that case, give me a halloo when it does.' He strode closer to Nuldrevyn and,
