"Guards!" the High Lord called.
Moragon moved. Faster than the eye could follow — a blur of motion. He latched the heavy door, then before either Veznan could react he pinned the High Lord’s arms back behind him.
"Now, I’ll be happy to give you a little more, Dimitri, but first there is something I need you to do. Just a simple task, and then you can have all you want. Are you ready?" Dimitri whimpered. "I want you to kill your father," the thin man said, smiling.
Guards began to thump on the door.
"Never," Dimitri said. His eyes were turning red, he started to twitch. "It hurts so much. So much!"
"A little more?" the Primate asked again.
The guards called out. They began to attempt to knock down the sturdy door.
Moragon grinned.
Dimitri started to groan. A keening sound came from his mouth. "It hurts, oh, it hurts so much. Give it to me!"
He suddenly lunged at the thin man, who danced out of reach. Panting, Dimitri fell to the floor.
"Kill your father," the thin man said. He held out a knife. Moragon held the High Lord pinned to his chair.
"Have strength," High Lord Vladimir Corizon whispered.
Dimitri began to writhe. His eyes grew yellow and foam started to appear at his lips.
"You know what you need to do," Moragon said.
With a great effort, Dimitri stood, lurching like a drunken man. For a moment, it seemed he would attack the man in white. Then he snatched the knife from the Primate’s hand, and ran the cutting edge across his own throat.
The wound lay open for a heartbeat, before resealing itself.
Dimitri screamed with anguish; there was no refuge, no escape from the pain. His eyes darted about, before he made his decision.
The blade lashed out, slicing across High Lord Vladimir Corizon’s throat.
"Now, give me more," Dimitri said.
The Primate handed over a tiny portion of the black liquid. Dimitri tipped it back. He fell into his chair, the strength gone out of him.
Moragon heaved the corpse of the Veznan High Lord onto his shoulder and walked to the open window. Without ceremony he threw the body into the air. A moment later a great splash sounded as the body entered the moat.
"Congratulations, High Lord Dimitri Corizon. Now, inform the guards of your new position. And if you have any doubts, remember, I am your only source for the elixir."
"What… what do I say?"
The thin man shrugged. "Assassin? I’m sure you’ll think of something."
Moragon unlatched the door. Several soldiers in the orange of Raj Vezna spilled into the room.
"Prince Dimitri! We heard the High Lord call."
"Quickly, an assassin! My father was at the window, looking out. He saw something, and called out. Something happened. I think he fell into the moat!"
The guard paled. He looked out the window and gestured to the other soldiers. "The grounds. The High Lord has been attacked!"
Dimitri put his head in his hands.
"Well done, my child. We will make a proud ruler of you yet." The Primate leaned forward, offering the flash. "Another drink?"
There was a sudden noise from immediately outside; it must have come from a window ledge; a human sound of pain.
Guards called to each other from below. They seemed to be coordinating their efforts.
"I think there really is someone out there," said Moragon.
A black form moved past the window.
34
If you don’t climb the mountain, you cannot view the plain.
— Sermons of Primate Melovar Aspen, 536 Y.E.
ELLA woke some time before dawn to bruised ribs and freezing cold. She was shivering terribly. Her mind numb, she fumbled around for her satchel. Inside it was the simple heatplate. She took it out and placed it on the ground.
"Sahl-an-tour." The runes came to life, instantly emitting a soft glow and beautifully warm heat.
For a moment she just held her hands over the heat until the shivering subsided a little and she could think clearly enough to take stock of her situation.
She was still in her wet dress. She wasn’t sure if it was better to stay in wet clothing or to take it off, but decided it would dry more quickly if she removed it. Gasping and wheezing with the cold she quickly found a long branch and erected it over the heatplate, then removed her clothing and draped it over the branch. Naked now, she brought her body as close as she could to the life-giving warmth.
She had her satchel but she knew she’d lost the nightlamp. Suddenly frantic she searched the bag, breathing a sigh of relief when she found the essence and two scrills. The precious fluid was starting to run low but at least the bottle had stayed intact. The rest of her clothing was completely soaked through. She kicked the bag closer to the heatplate. Hopefully some of the warmth would reach through to it.
Thinking dark thoughts, she fell asleep.