Cadderly labored for breath for a few crucial moments, at a crossroad in his life, though he did not realize it.
No, he decided at length. He had to believe in the book, wanted desperately to believe in something.
Still he remained in the same position, looking back to the door, to the tome, and lastly to his own heart. He realized that his meal was getting cold, then knew he did not care.
The emptiness within him could not be sated by food.
Bogo had given Ghost more than the hour the evil man had asked for, but the eager wizard decided to stay in the hearth room anyway, to see what he might team. The talk among the growing number of patrons settled always on the rumors of war, but, to Bogo's relief, none of the gathering seemed to have any idea of the depth of the danger that hung over their heads. When Aballister decided to march, most likely in the early spring, the army of Castle Trinity would have little trouble in bringing Carradoon to its knees.
The night deepened, the warm fires and the many conversations blazed, and Bogo, despite his fears that Ghost had already dispatched Cadderly, remained in the room, listening and chatting. Every time the door to the foyer opened, the young wizard looked up, anxious to note the return of the two priests, thinking that perhaps they would provide him with better information than the misinformed townsmen.
Bogo's smile curled up when Kierkan Rufo entered a short while later, for the more formidable headmaster was not beside the angular man. Rufo headed right for the stairs, but Bogo cut him off.
"You are of the Edificant Library?" he asked, his tone sounding hopeful.
Rufo's sharp features seemed sharper still in the flickering firelight, and his dark eyes did not blink as he regarded the curious-looking young man.
"Might I buy you some ale, or fine wine perhaps?" Bogo pressed, seeing no answer forthcoming.
Rufo's answer dripped of suspicion. "Why?"
"I am not of the region," Bogo replied without the slightest hesitation. The ambitious mage had played this scene out a dozen times in his mind, along with several other potential scenarios concerning the priest who would be stooge. "All the night, I have been assailed with rumors of war," he explained. "And all the rumors hint that the one hope lies in the Edificant Library."
Again Rufo did not respond, but Bogo noticed the vain man straighten his shoulders with some pride.
"I am not without skills," Bogo went on, confident that Rufo was falling into his trap. "Perhaps I might aid in those hopes. Surely I would try.
"Let me buy you some wine, then," Bogo offered after a short pause, not wanting to break his budding momentum. "W* can talk, and perhaps a wise priest can guide me to where my skills would be most helpful."
Rufo looked back to the foyer door, as though he expected, and feared, that Headmaster Avery would come pounding through at any moment. Then he nodded curtly and followed Bogo to one of the few empty tables remaining in the hearth room.
The talk remained casual for some time, with Bogo and Rufo sipping their wine, and Bogo quickly losing any hope that he would be able to get too much of the drink into the angular man. Rufo, who had been through many torments these last few weeks, remained cautious and guarded, covering his half-filled glass whenever Brennan, waiting on tables, made one of his frequent visits.
Bogo noted several times that the innkeeper's son seemed to be regarding him suspiciously, but he attributed it to the lad's natural curiosity that a stranger would have business with a priest from the library, and thought no more of it.
Bogo wasted little time in shifting the conversation to more specific topics, such as the Edificant Library and the ranking of Rufo's portly friend. Gradually, casually, the wizard led the talk to include the other priest who was a guest at the inn. Rufo, cryptic from the start, backed off even more and seemed to grow somewhat suspicious, but Bogo did not relent.
"Why are you in town?" Bogo asked, rather sharply.
Rufo seemed to note the subtle shift in the increasingly impatient wizard's-tone. He rested back in his chair and regarded Bogo silently.
"I must go," the angular priest announced unexpectedly, bracing himself on the table and beginning to rise.
"Sit down, Kierkan Rufo," Bogo snarled at him. Rufo looked at him curiously for a moment, and realized be had not, in the course of the conversation, told the man his name. A small whine escaped the angular man's thin lips as he fell back into his chair, now almost expecting what was to come.
"How do you know my name?" Rufo demanded with as much courage as he could muster.
"Druzil told it to me," Bogo answered bluntly. Again came that almost imperceptible whine.
Rufo began to ask another question, but Bogo promptly silenced him.
"You will answer and obey," Bogo explained casually.
"Not again," Rufo growled with defiance that surprised even himself.
"Dorigen thinks differently," Bogo replied, "as does Druzil, who has been in your room for both nights you have been in town," Bogo lied. "The imp has been in your room since before you and Avery occupied the room. Did you think to escape so easily, Kierkan Rufo? Did you think the battle was won despite the minor setback we were given in Shilmista Forest?"
Rufo found no words with which to respond.
"There," Bogo said calmly, settling bick into his chair and flipping his stringy brown hair over to one side. "Now we understand each other."
"What do you require of me this time?" Rufo asked, his voice sharp and a bit too loud for Bogo's liking (especially since Brennan was nearby again, regarding the two men with open curiosity). Rufo's visage continued to appear defiant, but Bogo was not concerned. The man was weak, he knew, else Rufo would have already left, or struck out against his revealed enemy.
"As of now, nothing," Bogo answered, not wanting to set too many things into motion until he better understood what Ghost and the Night Masks were planning. "I will be nearby, and you will remain available to me. I have some specific things planned for my visit to Carradoon, and you, Rufo, will play a role in those, do not doubt." He tipped his glass to the angular man and drained it, then rose from the table and started away, leaving Rufo lost in yet another un-resolvable trap.
"Be wary, young mage," Bogo heard from the side as he took his first step up the stairs beside the hearth room's bar. He turned to see young Brennan, casually wiping down the bar and regarding him dangerously.
"Are you addressing me?" Bogo asked, trying to sound superior, though he was indeed becoming a bit unnerved by the innkeeper's son's sudden attention.
"I am warning you," Ghost, appearing as Brennan, clarified. "And know that it is the only warning you will receive. Your business here is as observer - that position determined by Aballister himself. If you interfere, you might find yourself lying in a hole beside Cadderly."
Bogo's eyes widened in shock, an expression that brought a satisfied smile to Ghost's borrowed lips.
"Who are you?" the wizard demanded. "How . . . ?"
"Vfe are many," Ghost replied cryptically, obviously enjoying the spectacle of the squirming mage. "Wfe are many and we are all about you. You were told that we do things properly, Bogo Rath. You were told that we take no chances." Ghost let it drop there and turned back to his work at the bar.
Bogo understood the reason behind the sudden break in the conversation when Avery, just returned to the inn, and Kierkan Rufo walked past him up the stairs, heading for their rooms.
Bogo followed them at a safe distance, no longer certain that he would have further instructions for Kierkan Rufo, no longer certain of anything.
Mortality
he dawn found Cadderly at his meditation, at his
exercises, reaching his arms far to the side one
I at a time, muscle playing powerfully agains*
I muscle. He eyed the open book on the table be-
JL fore him as he moved, heard the song in his head, and felt in tune with it. Sweat lathered his bare chest and streaked the sides of his face, and the young priest felt it keenly, his senses heightened in this meditative state.
When at last he finished, Cadderly was thoroughly weary. He considered his bed, then changed his mind, thinking that he had been spending too much time in his room the past few days. The day would be bright and warm; outside his window, Impresk Lake glittered with a thousand sparkles in the morning sun.
Cadderly closed the Tome of Universal Harmony, but, looking upon the waters of that lake, so serene and inspiring, he still heard the song acutely. It was time to take the knowledge (the emotional strength, he hoped) that he had gained from the book out into the world. It was time to see how his new insights might fit into the everyday struggles of the people around him.
Cadderly feared those revelations. Could he control the shadows he would inevitably see dancing atop the shoulders of the many people of Carradoon? And could he decipher their meaning - truly? He thought back to the events of the night before, when he had turned young Brennan away, frightened at the implications of the squirming, growling manifestations he had seen.
The young priest washed and toweled off, strengthening his resolve. The choices seemed clear: go out and learn to assimilate in light of his newfound knowledge, or remain in his room, living a hermitlike existence. Cadderly thought of Betisarius, alone in his tower. The wizard would die there, alone, and, most likely, his body would not be discovered for weeks.
Cadderly did not wish to share that grim fate.
Still wearing the mantle of young Brennan, Ghost, absently replacing the candles on the lowered chandelier at the top of the staircase, watched the young priest leave the Dragon's Codpiece. He had heard Cadderly tell Fredegar that he would not return until late, and Ghost thought that a good thing. The Night Masks were in town and ready; Ghost had to meet with them this day. Perhaps young Cadderly would have a rather unpleasant surprise waiting for him when he returned that evening.
A patient killer, an artist, Ghost would have preferred to wait a few more days before arranging the strike, would have liked to get even closer to this curious young man, to know everything about him so that there could be no mistakes. The assassin considered this especially important in light of the potential problems arising from the arrival of the two other priests. Powerful priests had been known to resurrect the dead, and under normal circumstances, Ghost would prefer to take the time and discern exactly how much magical interference might be expected from the newcomers, particularly the priest bearing the title of headmaster. Might the Night Masks slay young Cadderly, only to have Avery locate his body and bring him back to life?
Bogo Rath presented even more complications. What might the upstart wizard be planning? the assassin wondered. Bogo had spoken with the other, lesser priest on the previous night, and that could not be a good thing.
Ghost did not like loose ends. He was a consummate professional who prided himself on being a perfect killer with never a lingering problem left behind. But while this operation seemed ragged to him, he had to believe that the problems could be circumvented - or eliminated. A new wrinkle had come into this picture, a new desire for Ghost that, in his mind at least, justified his seeming carelessness. Ghost felt the vitality coursing through his limbs, felt the powerful urges of adolescence, and remembered the pleasure those urges might bring.
He did not want to give up his new body.
But he knew, too, that he could not continue to play this charade much longer. With a single meeting, Cadderly had come to suspect that something was amiss, and Ghost did not doubt that those suspicions would only increase with time. Also, in this form, Ghost was severely restricted. His other body remained alive, and it would until the assassin fully committed himself to the idea of taking Brennan's body as his own, a dangerous action indeed until this mission was completed. And while that other, puny form drew breath, Ghost could not use the Ghearufu on any new victims. Even to get to \fender, his chosen victim, Ghost would have to go through his own body, and doing that would release young Brennan.
Things would become so much simpler when Cadderly lay dead, he knew. Ghost had considered trying the strike the night before, when he had held a cutting knife in his hand just inches from Cadderly's bare chest. If his aim had been good, the game would have ended then and there, and he could collect his gold, and seriously consider his immediate impulse to retain this young and vital body, to kill the trapped spirit of the young man back in his own room and remove the magical ring from the corpse's foot. In just a few days, his spirit would become acclimated to this new form, and then the Ghearufu would be his to use again. Vital youth would be his once more.
Hesitance had cost the assassin his chance. Before he had resolved to move, Cadderly was again intent upon him. The loose ends - his ignorance of Cadderly's powers, his ignorance of the other two priests - had held him back.
"Brennan!" Fredegar's cry startled the assassin from his contemplations.