about them in a more private place.”
“I look forward to it,” said Asea. “We have much to discuss.”
“Such as?”
“We can talk about that in private. Did you know that Rik hails from Sorrow? A city with which you are more than a little familiar.” A subtle, mask-like quality came over Malkior’s face. Or was that Rik’s imagination?
“The last time I was there must be twenty years ago…”
“Nineteen. Just before Rik here was born. Just after too.”
Malkior inclined his head and studied Rik with more care than he had before. “It’s a small world,” he said.
“His mother was murdered, you know. In quite a spectacular fashion.”
Malkior looked at her now. If he was getting Asea’s message, he gave no sign. “I am sure the subject must be more than a little distasteful to our young friend here.”
“He’s not entirely an orphan. I have spent considerable effort locating his father, and I think I may have found him.” Rik felt oddly embarrassed and uncomfortable. The way they were talking made him feel like an object, a thing that was not there. He wanted to tell them both to stop it, but kept his mouth firmly shut and his attention focused.
“As always, the depth of your philanthropy is a source of astonishment to me, my Lady.”
“Thanatomantic rituals were involved in his mother’s death.”
“Harven is a place tolerant to sorcery, but I would not say things like that too loudly even here, Asea.”
“I am sorry if you find the subject distasteful.”
“Just because there is no Inquisition here does not mean there are no prejudices. I am concerned for your safety. Even in Harven there are some…zealots… who object to these matters being even mentioned. Secret brotherhoods are everywhere, as I am sure you are aware. Some of them have great power.”
“I believe the Terrarch who killed Rik’s mother perpetrated other atrocities.”
“Fascinating. You must let me know when you catch up with him.”
“You will be the first to know when I do.”
“I look forward to that day. Now I must not monopolise your time,” he said. “I can see that there others here simply dying to have a chat with you.”
They smiled like old friends, bowed and parted. “You came a long way to have that conversation, didn’t you?” said Rik softly.
“You have no idea how far, Rik,” Asea replied. He thought he noticed some strain in her voice, even if none appeared on her face.
There was eating. There was music. There was conversation. The whole time Rik felt as if he were under observation, in some subtle inhuman way. He felt as if someone was looking at him, but every time he turned to see, there was no one there.
A steady flow of the very wealthy and very powerful, both Terrarch and human, drifted into Asea’s orbit all evening. They were curious and they wanted to talk. Rik sensed that the merchant princes were unsettled. There was at once aggression and deference in the way they spoke to Asea, as if they both resented and feared her. Rik began to fear for her. It was clear that the Councillors of Harven were far more used to causing fear than suffering it. They obviously resented anyone capable of making them afraid, and the resentment of the powerful was something to be scared of.
If any of this made any impression on Asea, she gave no sign of it. She smiled pleasantly and made small talk, accepted and offered invitations, listened to gossip, asked about trade, engaged in conversations about the minutiae of small points of sorcery, spoke of the siege of Halim easily, fluently and well. She looked stunning in her furs and her evening gown. Her be-gemmed Elder Signs looked like jewellery. Her smile was warm and friendly, and more than once he saw speculative, resentful, envious looks aimed in his direction. Obviously the tale that he was her lover had circulated here.
Not for the first time he wondered what it would be like if that were true. What would it be like to bed his patron? Interesting, was his suspicion, but he was unlikely ever to find out the answer, nor did he want to. The difference in power in their relationship did nothing for his sexual appetite. Quite the contrary, it diminished it. It came to him in a sudden flash of insight that he actually preferred it that way. His relationships with women, the intimate ones with Sabena, and with Rena, had been unhappy, tormenting things that had caused him a great deal of pain. He was not ready to entangle himself again. Whatever the strangeness of his relationship with the sorceress, he was comfortable with it. He felt threatened by Asea on many levels, but the fear of intimacy was not one of those levels. The possibility of it simply did not arise.
As he watched Asea closely, he noticed one thing. Her answers always appeared open, sincere and complete, except when she was asked about what had happened at the Serpent Tower. These questions she parried easily, dismissed and deflected in such a way that no one could take any offence. The more she avoided the subject, the more curious people became. It was undoubtedly a question that a great deal of those present took a great interest in.
Rik found himself facing a small, squat, white-haired man, in fur-trimmed sorcerer’s robes. His ugly face was lined. His eyes twinkled benevolently, and he had a smile that would have put the most suspicious Sorrow street thief at ease. Rik raised his guard instantly.
“I envy you,” said the man. His smile widened a trifle. Rik found himself disliking the stranger and trusting him even less.
“Why?”
The man gestured in the direction of Asea, caught Rik’s glance, laughed and shrugged. “I don’t mean like that. I am too old to be smitten by beauty although she certainly has it in abundance. I mean I envy you your chance to talk to her.”
Rik thought he understood. “You are a sorcerer.”
The man nodded as if he approved of Rik’s perceptiveness. “And she is the sorceress of all sorceresses. I have many questions she could answer if she had a mind.”
“Why don’t you ask her them?” The man touched his forehead and then his heart. It was a quick gesture that must have had some significance unknown to Rik. “As you may have noticed I am a human, and the First do not share their secrets with humans.”
Rik almost said that he was in a position to know differently but stopped himself. It was probably exactly what this man wanted to know. He was clever and he was oblique. The fact that he was talking to Rik while most present concentrated on Asea showed that.
“I did not catch your name,” Rik said.
“I am Alaryn.”
“I am Rik — pleased to make your acquaintance. I must confess I was surprised by the number of human sorcerers present this evening.”
“Harven has always been a safe haven for us against the prejudices of the masses, and dare I say it, the feudal aristocracy. The Quan prefer to deal with us, and so we have always enjoyed their protection.”
“Why is that?”
“There were human priests who dealt with them before the coming of the Terrarchs. Many of us have a greater knowledge of the old rituals, and less prejudice against the habits of the Elder Race.”
“You do not fear madness? Forgive me but I have always been told that humans were not made for sorcery.”
Alaryn smiled. “I mean no offence but perhaps you should ask yourself who benefits from putting that interpretation on affairs.”
“You are saying that it is one way the Terrarchs keep humans in their place. I have heard that said before, but I have also seen human sorcerers go mad.” It had happened to the Old Witch in Sorrow, and many of the other dabblers in the Thieves Quarter.
“You have lived an interesting life. Many weaker minds are smashed by using the Art and the Power, and in this, alas, humans are significantly weaker than the Terrarchs. That does not mean madness is inevitable. If the proper precautions are taken, and the proper rituals are observed, and if a human does not attempt to fly too high or draw on powers beyond his capabilities, he can live a relatively normal life and even become prosperous.”
