The Sword of the South - eARC Read Online Free PDF Page B

entire series of plans, of strategies—years of effort—can slide down into ruin because we said one word to many.”
    His spoon cut the air to strike the table with a crack, and the red-haired man snorted angrily.
    “I don’t recall asking to be included in any strategies!”
    “But then, you don’t remember everything, do you?” The question was asked gently, and the younger man stiffened. “Perhaps you did ask…once. And consider this—your memory loss is selective, my friend. You know what hradani are, and direcats. You’ve heard of war maids. Selective amnesia’s probably no accident.”
    “You mean…You’re saying someone took my memory?”
    “Precisely. And that means you’re already part of someone’s plans.
    “But…why?” The younger man shook his head, eyes dark.
    “For any number of reasons. I can’t tell you much, but this much I will say: all wizards are puzzle solvers at heart, and most of us cheat. We may not like the way a puzzle fits together, so we change the pieces or rearrange their patterns. For every wizard who seeks one solution another wants a different answer, or simply for it to remain unsolved. It wasn’t always so, but the past is the past. We have to deal with what is , not what we’d like to be.”
    The old man paused to stare into the fire. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.
    “Some of us try to believe our solutions are in the best interest of all, or at least of the greatest possible number, but we’re all quite ruthless. As for you, it would seem someone wants you ignorant of the part you might play if you still had a past.”
    “But what makes me important? Who did this to me? You say you’re a wizard—how do I know it wasn’t you?”
    “It could have been,” the old man agreed, his spoon chasing the last stew around his bowl, “but if I wanted you removed, it would’ve been easy enough to simply kill you.”
    He looked up and met the younger man’s eyes levelly. The red-haired man swallowed, and nodded with a jerk.
    “Then what is your interest in me?” he asked softly.
    “At this moment? To keep you alive,” the wizard said simply.
    “Really?” The hairs rose on the back of the red-haired man’s neck. “And why shouldn’t I stay that way on my own?”
    “Because ignorance doesn’t change what you are. You’re a danger to too many who follow the tradition of the Dark Lords of Carnadosa. Perhaps you’re safe from the one who stole your memory, but there are others who not only can but certainly will kill you if they even suspect you’re alive. And the reason will be simple. You threaten them, whatever you know or don’t know…so long as you remain alive.”
    “So.” The younger man studied the wizard as the fire roared to the gusts sucking across the chimney. “You may be telling the truth—or a truth, at least. But how do I know your truth is one I’d like?”
    “No one wishes to know all the truth.” The wizard’s voice went gray and old. “Believe that, young sir.”
    “I do,” the red-haired man said softly, “but I can’t just take the word of the first wizard I meet. I remember another proverb. ‘Trust not in wizards. The best are none too good, and most of them are evil.’”
    “All proverbs have a core of truth,” the old man agreed. “The art’s fallen on sad times. There’s no Council, and the majority of my brothers and sisters in the art are at best some shade of gray. But if you don’t trust me, you’ll be dead within twenty-four hours.
    “Not by my hand,” he went on quickly, raising a palm against green eyes that were suddenly burning ice. “If I wanted you dead, not even Bahzell could keep me from killing you now, while you’re too ignorant even to understand the reason for your death.” Power seemed to smoke above him, and the red-haired man’s mouth dried as the shabby old man suddenly became a perilous menace that belied his wet, bedraggled appearance. Danger hovered about him like some