Bearers of the Black Staff

“SEE HOW THEY TALK WITH EACH OTHER?” Skeal Eile whispered. He was standing close to Pogue Kray, close enough to feel the heat of the other’s anger as he watched his wife with the Gray Man. “See how they incline their heads so that they are almost touching?”

Trow Ravenlock was already gone, anxious to get back to his Trackers, already thinking ahead to what he must do on the morrow. But the Seraphic had lingered, sensing an opportunity.

“She has said it is nothing,” Pogue Kray replied without conviction.

“She would say that, wouldn’t she? I warned you, Pogue. I said she was duplicitous. I said she does not hold you as close as you believe she does. Now this.”

The big man had not looked away once from the scene at the edge of the trees and did not do so now. “I believe her,” he said.

“Your sense of loyalty is admirable.” Skeal Eile let the moment pass, watching as the two former lovers parted and Aislinne started back toward the cottage. “Well, duty calls. Much needs doing yet this night.”

He went out the door swiftly, moving down off the porch and turning away from the approaching woman, heading toward the center of the village. He had done as much as he could to sow the necessary seeds of distrust in Pogue Kray. The rest would have to wait. He could sense the big man weakening, growing doubtful, less confident of his wife’s fidelity. He would continue to doubt her, even though he would hate himself for doing so, and would eventually cease to trust her altogether. The Seraphic would see to that. As her credibility with her husband waned, Aislinne Kray would become more vulnerable and ultimately cease to be a threat. All of which would permit him to proceed with his newly revised plan for domination of the valley’s populace without interference from either of the Krays.

But all that was for later. More pressing matters needed his attention just now.

He hurried on through the night, bypassing the main roadways in favor of the more obscure paths, anxious not to be recognized. Soon he was across the village and approaching its outskirts, the houses fewer and population sparser. He was replaying in his mind Sider Ament’s words, considering how they impacted his plans, grateful that he had known in advance that the Gray Man and the boy were coming, that he had been prepared for them and able to think through carefully in advance the nature of his response.

Every setback brought fresh opportunity. It was so here. He need only make use of his skill and experience to take advantage of it.

When he was deep in the trees, he slowed, pacing himself, gathering his thoughts anew, wanting to be careful now, to be cautious. He did not want to reveal what he was feeling—the excitement, the euphoria, and the intense sense of possibility that fed his ambitions. Not to the boy, his killing tool.

He reached the dilapidated cottage, walked up to the sagging porch, and stopped. The old man was nowhere in sight, and the cottage was as dark and silent as ever. Yet there was someone inside; there was always someone inside. Even the old man, blind as he was, kept watch in his own way and would know Skeal Eile was there.

But it was the boy who appeared this time, coming silently through the doorway to greet him. “Your Eminence,” he said, his smile bright and expectant. “Did things go well for you?”

“You know of the meeting, then?”

The smile widened. “Tell me something of what was said, won’t you?”

Skeal Eile ignored the question. “It was helpful of you to advise me of their coming. It makes it so much easier for me to forgive you for your failure to carry out your assignment in Arborlon.”

Bonnasaint shrugged. “Sometimes patience is the only alternative to disaster. I did what I could. My disguise as an old woman got me close to their quarters, but not to them. They were away from the city when I arrived and remained gone for several days. When the boy returned, he was alone. The girl never did reappear. The boy was always in the company of others, including the King of the Elves. He stayed but one night, and then he was gone again. An opportunity that would have allowed me to perform my special services never presented itself. My apologies, again, if you are displeased.”

Smooth and diffident, as always. Skeal Eile inclined his head. “I am in no way displeased. Matters have taken an unexpected turn, one that makes it wiser to let the boy and the girl live. They will cause no further trouble. The failure of the protective walls and the appearance of this Troll army require that I take a fresh approach. The Children of the Hawk are threatened, but in being threatened they are also offered an unexpected chance to enhance their standing and thereby my own among the citizens of the valley. It requires only a few nudges and a little luck for this to happen.”