A Strange and Ancient Name Read Online Free PDF Page B

support you.”
    Ereledan opened his mouth, shut it, realizing to his horror that suddenly he couldn’t think. Without warning, all his carefully planned reasons had vanished, and what thoughts he had were fluttering frantically about in his mind. Ae, Powers, he must say something, anything: “Hauberin has seemed to rule well so far.”
    “Well, indeed. The land prospers.”
    “Yes, but . . .” But what? Desperate, Ereledan forced out, “But that won’t last, it can’t. We all know what humans are like: flighty, animal, easy to control—”
    “Like you?” Sharial murmured maliciously.
    “No! How dare you—”
    “We saw that duel, that ridiculous outright attack. What happened, kinsman? Were you controlled?”
    “No! That’s impossible, I—”
    “Then you simply lost control. While the prince, that ‘flighty animal,’ did not.”
    “It was a fluke, an accident.”
    “An accident that just might happen again.”
    “It won’t—I won’t—wait!”
    But his kinsmen were getting smoothly to their feet. Astyal gave him a flat, polite smile. “We, too, would prefer one of true Faerie blood on the throne. But so far, save for his . . . unfortunate taint, we have no reason to quarrel with the prince. Perhaps he will, indeed, reveal a weaker nature someday. Till then: Your branch of the family once nearly destroyed us all. Why should we endanger ourselves for you now?”
    By the time Ereledan could find an answer, he was alone. And, for the first time in he knew not how long, afraid.
    What was happening? In all his long life, he’d never been so confused! Arranging for this ridiculous meeting, then forgetting what he’d wanted to say—Powers! It had almost felt as though someone else had rummaged through his mind, then discarded him.
    But that’s impossible! No one has such magic!
    Despairing, Ereledan sank to a chair, head in hands.

    ###

    The slave had fallen asleep long ago (or was feigning sleep), her long green hair fanned out across the pillows. But Serein remained awake, staring blankly up at the smooth golden ceiling of his bedchamber, fear a cold weight within him.
    Ae, ae, what was wrong with him? When Hauberin had accused him of attempted assassination, he had smiled and denied everything, and prayed he had sounded convincing—because he couldn’t remember a thing!
    It hadn’t been the first time. These frightening moments of blankness, these empty gray patches in his memory—could it be Hauberin’s plot? Was that little animal working some bizarre revenge? No. Cousin Hauberin was far too moral, too human, for that, damn him.
    I’ll have his throne, and him as my pet. But the familiar litany failed to soothe. He had made this vow often enough, yet somehow had never seemed to do anything about it. This time it will be different. When my plan begins to work . . .
    If the emptiness allowed it.
    All at once Serein found himself remembering Ysilar, the long-dead sorcerer brooding over his envy and empty plots till at last his sanity fled. Maybe he, too, had begun by losing memory—
    No! I’m not like him!
    The room was freezing. Shivering, Serein glanced at the slave, aching for her to wake, to hold him in her arms and let him be a child again (but childhood had been a cold, sharp time, no weaknesses permitted), to let down his guard and for once be sheltered, safe . . .
    But the slave continued to sleep, face turned from him. Suddenly furious that she was so peaceful while he suffered alone, Serein shouted at her: “Wake up!”
    She started, blinking in confusion. “Wh-What . . . ?”
    “Wake up, you lazy bitch!”
    The slave stifled a scream as he slapped her, and tried to squirm away. Serein caught one slender arm and pulled her roughly back.
    “Go ahead,” he gasped. “Fight me. Fight me!” His last bedmate had fought splendidly, savagely. Serein’s lips peeled back in a fierce smile as he remembered. How the creature had hated him, right up to the night when she had actually