By Rusty Priske A tale of Larisnar
Ygraine fought back her annoyance as she strode purposefully down the stone corridor. Pytfar walked a pace behind her and had been prattling on for the last ten minutes about what an honor the Emperor was giving by summoning her.
"Enough!" she cut him off mid-sentence. "I am fully aware of the significance of this visit. Thy incessant droning is doing nothing more than putting me in a foul temper. Dost thou think it wise to present me to the Emperor in such a state?"
Pytfar considered a response and then thought better of it. He remained silent. Working with the sorceress taught one discretion as the wrong word could easily end the speaker's life. Some people would say that you had to watch her mood but in Pytfar's experience, Ygraine's mood was never good.
This was true, but only since going to Denska. Ygraine saw the posting as a political move, and not one that benefited her. Slayer had the ear of those who make such decisions and the vehement dislike between the two of them had not lessened with the passing of time.
Denska was an unpleasant place but the people there claimed to be "free" rather than part of the Empire. Deverenia did not tolerate such foolishness. The one aspect of the posting that Ygraine enjoyed was showing these so-called free peoples what it truly meant to be free. Power is freedom.
The thought of the last proud rebel she had killed lightened her mood slightly. That ended when a boy careened around the corner at a full run. Pytfar moved to intercept him but the boy, seeing the imposing sorceress, altered his course and ran into the corridor wall. He fell hard to the floor, with his breath knocked completely out of him.
"You mindless gnat! Doth they no longer teach manners in Deverenia?"
"Fear and respect is a more prudent lesson and the boy hath learned those in abundance."
Ygraine's anger turned quickly to a more familiar, seething hatred when she saw the source of this new voice. Her voice dripped with contempt as she acknowledged the speaker, "Theoloc."
"Ygraine. If thou art finished chastising Kaylien then he hath a task still before him." Theoloc's gaze turned towards the lad, still on the floor. "He is fully aware of the consequences of disobeying our master." The boy's visage, already masked in fear, turned to absolute terror. He sprang to his feet but a small motion from Ygraine's hand spurred Pytfar to grab him by the back of his neck.
"As the aggrieved party I think I would ask – Kaylien was it?" the boy did not respond, "To stay with us for the nonce."
The Wizard looked back towards Ygraine, ignoring Pytfar utterly. He shrugged, "As you wish. Slayer will punish him whether it was your will or not. What brings you to Luthlarius, Ygraine? Have you come to face the tower as required?"
Ygraine's face betrayed the disgust she held for Theoloc. "Just because Slayer has convinced some rabble that the only way to become a wizard is through his training, don't think that it is true. I am not the sheep that thou art. I have no need to face his test to know what my skills are. I test those skills everyday. How are things here in the city, Theoloc?"
If the wizard bridled at the sheep comment, he made no sign. "Comfortable. Thank you for caring. I realize that it may not be as exciting as wading through the marshes of a barbarian land, but we each do what we can."
"The land belongs to Deverenia, or it soon shall, so it would be best to not get into the habit of referring to it as barbarian. Still, I am sure that those who stay within these cozy confines still serve the Empire in some way. Dost thou stay busy? Torturing cats perhaps?"
Theoloc chuckled mirthlessly. "Do I detect a note of disapproval of those who stay within Luthlarius and the Sedes Imperium? Does this disapproval extend to the Emperor?"
"The Emperor does not need my approval, Theoloc. Thou should watch thy sharp tongue lest it cause injury. I have oft wondered what it would look like removed. Shall we see?"
The hard, evil smile never left Theoloc's face as he responded, "Art thou threatening me, Ygraine? Dost thou think things have changed whilst you were gone? Do not challenge me, Ygraine. My master hath trained me well."
"Still as arrogant as ever, Theoloc; still convinced that position equals power. You have the tacit approval of the Emperor but that does not truly make you a master wizard any more than thy master. Slayer at least hath some skill at the craft. Thou art but a craven boot-licker. If thou should cross me, your final memory will be your own failure."
"I would not only cross thee, Ygraine, but rather I would have you kneel at my feet and recognize thine own lack of worth."
The tension thickened in the corridor. "Sir Pytfar, I believe I have been insulted."
An evil grin snuck from the corner of Pytfar's mouth. "I believe you are correct, milady. This should not be allowed to stand." He knew Ygraine's temper and knew what was coming. He was wrong.
"Well you claim to be a knight. Defend my honor." All color drained from Pytfar's face as the smile on Theoloc's brightened.
Pytfar stammered out a response, "Uh, me, milady? But I thought, uh, that you would want to..."
Ygraine grabbed Kaylien by the throat, yanking him from Pytfar's grasp. She openly sneered at her underling. "What art thou waiting for, Sir Pytfar? Didst thou not hear my command?"
"I, uh... he is a sorcerer, milady and..." Pytfar appeared to try to steel himself but his fear was all too apparent. "So be it. Stand forth, knave!"
Ygraine waved him back with her free hand, "Enough. You had your chance." She turned back to Theoloc. "I have learned the lesson in Denska that Slayer already knows. Underlings are nothing more than fodder. You can never count on them to do what needs doing. Use them and then discard them. Slayer has shown himself the master of this." Theoloc blanched slightly at her insinuation. "Tell your Master I give him a gift. I return this..." She released Kaylien from her hand, only to have him collapse to the floor, clearly dead. Ygraine glanced at Slayer's student, his throat crushed by her grasp. "Oh, I seem to have broken him. I am sure Slayer will be very cross, as we know he likes to do that task himself. No matter. Instead, I will allow you to live. At least then he will have something to amuse himself with."
Theoloc was speechless as Ygraine turned her back on him to continue down the corridor. As Pytfar went to follow, Ygraine had parting words for Theoloc, "Also tell him that I will not waste my effort on an apprentice. If he sends another, I will leave him like that one. No matter how well trained he thinks he is."
Pytfar held his tongue until they had travelled a sufficient distance to ensure that Theoloc was no longer in earshot. One last furtive glance and he asked the unspoken question, "Milady, why would you..."
Ygraine cut him off with a glance. "Allow him to live, Pytfar? Apparently, thou art as thick as you are cowardly. No one can spend time in Luthlarius without hearing the rumours of Slayer's penchant for using the strength of others to power his own magicks. When yet another disciple vanishes there is rarely anyone who questions it. Theoloc is aware of this and unless he is a dolt, who he is not, there is a seed in his mind that wonders if this fate will befall him as well. By reminding him of this, I am cultivating that seed. Killing the boy was the earth, taunting Theoloc was the light of the sun, and belittling you was the rain from the heavens. Soon that seed will be a mighty oak and Theoloc will stand at Slayer's side no more."
Pytfar looked at Ygraine with amazement and respect. "So you are not truly angry with me..." Ygraine responded with but a stare and all the color drained from Pytfar's face.
When Ygraine returned to Denska, she did so alone.