Chapter Two

Walking alongside Maerad, Hekibel felt awkward and ungainly compared to her smooth, certain gait and faint, ironic smile. She wore a flattering green gown with gold beading, cut low and laced so tightly Hekibel thought a man might be able to wrap his hands around her waist. The faint smell of jasmine hung in the air around Maerad, clinging to her hair and skin from the bath she'd taken. Privately, Hekibel thought Cadvan was mad to let a woman like Maerad wander the tower alone, looking as she did then, but Hekibel was beginning to understand that as far as Bards were concerned, appearances were rarely accurate, and she suspected Maerad's looks belied a secret power.

"How are you settling in?" Maerad asked politely. She turned a little to flash Hekibel her narrow, comical smile.

Hekibel blinked, unsure if Maerad was making fun or her or their situation in general. "I'm glad to have Saliman with me. He's a good man, he's made this easier."

Maerad nodded thoughtfully. "I remember when I first met Saliman. I had just escaped from Gilman's Cot and thought I was going to be thrown out of the School. He was very kind to me then."

"Gilman's Cot?" Hekibel asked.

They turned a corner only to find a small group of Hulls approaching opposite them. They paused when they saw the two women, and Maerad recognized Ignalt among them. Ignalt's eyes moved up and down her form, smirking, and murmured something to its companion. Maerad had the distinct impression they were discussing her, and, though Hulls had no desire for women, she blushed, painfully aware of how exposed she was.

"Why, mistress Maerad, what are you doing out and about, and looking so enticing?" Ignalt's eyes moved to Hekibel, who recoiled. She could not see the Hulls in their true form, but they made her stomach twist. "You waste your beauty on those such as us as we cannot give you the attention you so rightly deserve."

"I would not, for all the world, want your attention," Maerad said stiffly.

"What an ungrateful wench," Ignalt said to the others. "Cadvan has clearly not taken her in hand. You think he might have taught her how to keep a civil tongue when speaking with her betters."

"I'll keep a civil tongue to my lord, not the likes of you," Maerad returned imperiously and made to pass the Hulls with her chin raised high. Hekibel gaped at her and had to rush to stay in her shadow. When they came level with the Hulls, Maerad's cool, blue gaze landed on Ignalt. "Call me what you will, but it doesn't change that your master wants me alive. Or, perhaps that is the worst bit of it?"

Ignalt's mouth pulled up into an ugly smile. "For now, you live on his good graces, but we have so long together. One day, Cadvan is going to fail you, and I will be first to pick you back you back up."

Maerad considered the warning Cadvan had given her earlier about Likud wanting revenge. "You will not be first," she said evenly.

Maerad pushed pass the Hulls, holding her breath to keep a shaking gasp from escaping her. For all her bold words and angry eyes, she was disgusted by the Hulls and their presence made her sick. It took all her will not to run past them and take the stairs two at a time. Hekibel was pale as snow, studying Maerad with more care.

After a beat, Maerad said, "Perhaps this is not so much a surprise, but I was a slave for a time before I came to know I was a Bard. My mother and I were sold to a man in a small settlement in the mountains. Gilman's Cot."

"Cadvan took you from there?" Hekibel asked as they descended the stairs. The temperature dropped noticeably. "That's a nice story, like a fairy tale. A knight come to rescue a princess."

Maerad reflected on that bitterly cold morning when Cadvan had stumbled into the barn, and her immediate trust in him. "I was no princess, just a slave girl. And, at the time, he wasn't much of a knight."

Hekibel studied Maerad's sad profile and thought she'd never seen a more distressed woman. They arrived in a dark hallway, carved in stone and lit with flickering torches. The cells had been carved into the stone of the mountain and the walls and floor were uneven so that Maerad had to navigate the stone hall carefully in her billowy gown. She reached out her right hand and laid it against the wall to help her traverse the dark corridor.

The doors set in the walls were barred and through them, Maerad and Hekibel glanced the Bards held captive within. They were housed by School, the First Circle and First Bard tossed together in large rooms. They first passed the southern Schools and cities that had been captured: Turbansk, Jerr-Niken and Baladh. Ettinor was next, and Desor across from it. A larger cell beside Desor had been set aside for the Bards of Il Arunedh that would be arriving within the week. Maerad glanced in each of these cells, catching a brief glimpse of pale, haggard faces that cringed at the mage light that bobbled along above her. They were chained, some by their ankles, others by their throats, and when they moved the chains rattled so that the entire hall echoed with the sounds.

Maerad paused momentarily, debating whether or not to open the door of the Lirigon Bards. She didn't know the First Circle or First Bard, but Nelac had been housed with them and she had brought a cloak for him at Cadvan's behest. When she looked in though, she noticed two of the Bards were asleep and decided she would stop when she was done with the Innail Bards. Besides, she was anxious to see Silvia again.

She paused before the door, peering into the dank cell, but she could barely penetrate the darkness. While a few sparse torches flickered on the walls, there was but one small fire someone had lit from rubble on the floor. She saw the Bards huddled around it in the corner and made a note to bring wood from her own fire the next time. She waved her hand vaguely at the lock on the cell and it melted away so that she and Hekibel could pass through. Like the stairs that led to the great doors outside, Sharma had control over who could enter or leave a place-not unlike an Elidhu, Maerad sometimes thought-and the cells were no different. The Bards could not pass through, and even if they did escape, they had no place to run to.

"Silvia?" Maerad said gently, and the Bards at the fire stirred as if rattled by a strong breeze.

Silvia stood, a mage light bursting into life above her shoulder: Indik, who had come up beside her, had one at his hand. Kelia remained seated protectively by Malgorn, who was curled up in a pile of wet hay, sleeping fitfully. When they recognized Maerad, though, the energy crackling in the room vanished.

"Maerad!" Silvia rushed forward, avoiding small puddles of stale water in the uneven floor. The chain wrapped around her bare foot tugged her sharply before she could come within a foot of Maerad. She glowered at it, before Maerad came forward and caught her in a warm embrace. She pressed her face into the fall of Maerad's hair, breathing in the familiar perfume.

"Oh, Maerad, I wondered when you might come to us again." She drew back, searching her face, and Maerad saw lines of exhaustion and worry.

"I can't bear to be away long," she said, pulling back a little and lifting a basket. "I've brought food and medicine."

Silvia inspected the basket, her eyes glowing hopefully. "Antiseptic would be helpful now. Your brother's healing was the best I've seen, but now we're trying to keep Malgorn's stitches clean." She switched her gaze up from the basket and saw Hekibel standing a pace behind her. Silvia drew the young woman into her arms. "Sweet child. As happy as I am to see you alive and well, it breaks my heart that you must be here."

"Better here with all of you than fighting for myself in the Annar. I've heard things go poorly out there." Maerad shot a sharp look at Hekibel, impressed with her composure.

The Bards around the fire made room for the two newcomers as Maerad and Hekibel followed Silvia in the light of the fire. Indik tipped his head in recognition of the young woman. She had come frequently since their imprisonment, but for some reason, the familiarity that had grown between them in Innail seemed to have withered. Indik thought guiltily that it was his own selfish interest, that he couldn't reconcile the brave, shy girl he'd trained in Innail with the lovely woman before him. When she caught his eye, he shivered.

"Things go poorly upstairs?" Indik asked around a mouthful of cool meats. "You have news from the outside?"

"It's difficult to say," said Maerad ruefully. She considered the last two weeks trying to pull answers from an unwilling Cadvan. "I am not privy to the Nameless One's counsel, and I think Cadvan doesn't like to discuss such news. It makes him unhappy." When the Bards continued to stare at her, she said, "I know Il Arunedh was captured last week by Enkir's forces. They will be here soon."

Silvia lowered her face. "That is terrible news, indeed. Norowen was a good Bard and the Nameless One will be hard on her."

"She is the First Bard?" Maerad asked.

"These last fifteen years. Cadvan and Saliman will know her, they were all students under Nelac together. She's a good woman, powerfully Gifted, but I do not think that will win out against the Nameless One."

Maerad shook her head, tossing her hair angrily. "It is bad enough she is a woman, let alone a First Bard."

Silvia and Kebeka looked shocked at her statement. "Maerad, you of all people know that women wield as much power as men in the Bard world."

"It's not what I meant." For a moment, Maerad wanted to unburden herself on them and tell them about the brothel. But though Cadvan had assured her it didn't matter, she shied away from the truth. "Everything that Barding is, everything our culture stood for, is an affront to the Nameless One, and I think it serves him as much to enslave Bards as it does to destroy the ideals of the Light. Think of the edict in Norloch that forbid women from the School, for he was certainly behind it. Women are equal among Bards? He will see them put in a place below menfolk. And a First Bard who is also a woman? It will not go easy on her."

Silvia glanced at Malgorn, who was sleeping fitfully, muttering under his breath frenetically. "I cannot imagine the Nameless One being any harder."

"We cannot underestimate him in that regard," said Hekibel sternly.

Kelia sighed heavily. "What of the ghettos? Have you any word of our people there?"

"I am not permitted to leave the castle and the Nameless One has not let Cadvan or Saliman out since they returned with you." Maerad chose not to mention the pile of corpses she saw from the window of her tower rooms, of the strange Speechless birds that feasted on their flesh. "I have heard that some Bards are brought to be interrogated by the Nameless One, but for what reason, I cannot guess.".

"We hear things from the Hulls but…" Kelia paused, reflecting on the recent slew of curses and taunts they had heard. "But I do not put stock in their words."

"That's wise. They serve only the purposes of the Dark, hoping to scare us and discourage us. There's nothing a Hull could say worth hearing," Maerad said stiffly. She looked from face to face and was met with grim agreement. She nodded to Malgorn. "How is he?"

Silvia cast a hopeless glance at her husband and Maerad saw sharp pain in her eyes. It had been no surprise to anyone that the Nameless One had broken Malgorn's mind and found his Name. For all his courage and determination, no Bard had the skills to deny the Nameless One in his full power, and Malgorn was not born a warrior. When the Hulls had returned him, Malgorn barely managed to slump into the cell, relying on Indik's sturdy grip to carry him forward. He'd collapsed before the fire, shaking terribly and looking at them all with wide, feverish eyes. Silvia sank down to her knees before him, taking his face in her hands and kissing him firmly, but when she sat back, the bitter emptiness in his eyes had shocked her. She lowered her gaze only to find the Sick Moon staring up at her from his wrist. Since then, Malgorn had kept mostly silent, dozing fitfully or looking about morosely, accepting the care of his First Circle but seemingly uninterested in speaking.

"He is still weak," Silvia hedged.

Maerad handed the basket of food wordlessly to Silvia and crossed the room to the corner. She knelt down beside Malgorn and felt his temperature. His eyes fluttered open at her touch.

"Ah, miss Maerad." He smiled weakly and Maerad pushed the hair off his face. She saw the chain that a Hull must have wrapped around his throat and she flushed angrily at the sight of it: Malgorn wasn't an animal, he didn't need to be tied up like one. "I see not even the miserable dark of this cell can keep you away from my wife." Maerad laughed, a guilty smile on her face. "If you were a man, I might begin to take offense."

"I think I could charm her quite well, even without my being a man," Maerad said wryly, and Malgorn's eyes sparkled for a moment with devilish laughter. "But I have come to see you, Malgorn. How do you do?"

Malgorn breathed heavily, struggling to sit upright with Maerad's help. She could see his breathing was labored, but whether by the injury sustained in battle with the Nameless One, or the chain wound too tightly around his throat, she could not say. "Do? Well I sleep much of the day. I like the quiet."

Maerad reflected for a minute on Cadvan's demeanor after the Nameless One had forced his mind. He had mentioned his presence always being there, like a whisper in his thoughts. "Do you mean quiet from Sharma?"

"Don't say his name!" hissed Malgorn, jerking away from her.

"I'm sorry," she said at once, holding out her hands in a placating gesture. She and her brother alone of all the Bards were free to use Sharma's name. Maerad often forgot that the other Bards, especially those who were sworn to him, hated the sound of his name. Cadvan cringed when she used it, and Maerad wondered if Sharma had cursed them so that they felt pain. When she glanced back at Malgorn, whose hands were clenched tightly so that the muscles in his arms and shoulders stuck out like cords, she felt a wave of fury wash over her. Sharma's pettiness was as absolute as his cruelty: Bards were punished for even using his name.

"I'm sorry, Malgorn, but I forget sometimes…" She smiled crookedly at him. "Let us not speak of it. How else do you fare? Are you hungry? I brought food."

Malgorn's eyes moved from Maerad to the Bards behind her, exploring the contents of the basket. "Perhaps a little bread and meat might perk me up."

Maerad waved the Bards over and joined her and Malgorn. Silvia was spreading butter on a thick, warm slice of bread. "Eat, my love. You need your strength." Silvia settled beside Malgorn and helped him sit up straight. She watched him like a hawk as he chewed small bites, holding his free hand.

Maerad snatched a glance at Malgorn while he ate. "I know that it is not something you have any interest in, but have you heard anything from the Nameless One?"

Malgorn gaped at Maerad, his face pale. Siliva, Indik and Kelia, though, just frowned. "Why would he come here?" asked Silvia. "He'll have no interest in us until he decides to cast his spell on the Speech."

Maerad realized Malgorn had not told them of his connection to the Nameless One's thoughts, and he was, not unlike Cadvan and Saliman, ashamed of such a relationship. At once, Maerad tried to backtrack, but it seemed there was no way to explain herself without implicating Malgorn. She looked helplessly at Malgorn and he sighed wearily.

"She is referring to me," he said after beat.

"You?" Silvia asked, nonplussed. The other Bards had turned to him and were looking shocked.

"When he-" Malgorn recoiled at the memory of the Nameless One "-when he forced my mind, he left behind a hole in my defenses. Even now, he has access to my thoughts. He can communicate with me if he wanted."

The other Bards looked appalled. "Does he?" Kelia asked faintly, like the idea sickened her. "Does he speak to you?"

Malgorn shrugged, his gaze dropped to his hands. "It's not really a conversation, but every now and then I can…feel him there. If I'm thinking of something or if I'm in conversation and he finds it amusing, his consciousness can enter mine. He doesn't really speak to me, though, just lingers there, laughing."

Maerad felt a terrible welling of sympathy for Malgorn. "Cadvan said much the same."

Silvia's face softened and she lifted Malgorn's chin so he looked directly into her eyes. Malgorn flinched but held her gaze. "You should have told me, my love. I would have-"

"There's nothing for it," Malgorn said, bitterness tinging his voice. "This goes far deeper than any injury. This is permanent. And I won't have you-any of you-coming between me and him. It's too dangerous."

Indik looked like he'd swallowed something particularly distasteful. "He can sense your thoughts?"

"He can speak to me as clearly as you are now." Malgorn thought about it a moment before adding hurriedly, "Not that he does much. I get the feeling a lowly Bard of the Tending is below his notice." He smiled lopsidedly at Silvia.

"Does it-does it hurt?" she asked in a low voice.

Malgorn made an abstract gesture with his hands. "I would not call it painful, but I certainly would not claim it is pleasant. It's like an old wound that's aggravated by cold weather."

The other Bards shared a puzzled look. None of them had met the Nameless One, none of them could imagine having such close contact with him. Maerad and Hekibel, though, who had seen the effects of Sharma on a person, caught each other's eye a little sadly. Maerad dug through the basket until she found a peach, the sweetest bit of food she had and held it out.

"It gets better with time, I think. Or, perhaps, the Nameless One just loses interest? It will not be as awful as it is now." Malgorn took the fruit, tipping his head to her respectfully. "Cadvan and Saliman said that he leaves them mostly alone."

The Bards looked up skeptically, and Indik said, "I somehow get the feeling that he never leaves them alone."

Hekibel noticed Maerad's uncertainty and the hurt that cross her face at the idea that Cadvan lied to her. "It is what they say, though they may say it differently to spare our feelings."

Silvia caught Malgorn's eyes. "Surely, the Nameless One will lose interest. Though it pains me to say it, there are wars to be fought yet. He can't keep his mind on the Bards he's already captured."

I wouldn't be so sure, Maerad thought privately, but offered an encouraging smile. "Soon this is going to be over, soon he won't have any interest in First Bards and Schools. He'll leave you alone then."

Malgorn shrugged at the suggestion, suddenly too exhausted to wonder if the Nameless One was going to torment him for the rest of his life. "Well, I suppose as long as he keeps sending us food, I've no complaints."

Maerad glanced in the basket, surprised to find it empty so soon. She said, in a voice meant to be teasing and cheerful, "When was the last time you were fed?"

A small, guilty smile played on the Bards faces. "It's been a few days," admitted Silvia.

Maerad glanced away, thinking uncomfortably of the breakfast she and Cadvan had shared that morning. "I'll bring more," she said in a soft voice, all humor lost to her. She cast around for something more to say, anything that wasn't sad, but it never came. Instead, she found herself staring at her voluminous sleeves, the richly dyed fabric and fine thread details. She hated it. "I'll bring more of whatever you want."

"Perhaps just more bread and clean water," Silvia said, sensing Maerad's disquiet.

"Of course," said Hekibel, placing a hand on Maerad's shoulder.

Maerad released a trembling sigh. Gesturing widely so the sleeves of her gown swung, she said in tight voice, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry he's done this to you and there's nothing I can do. I know I was meant to do more, I was meant to stop him, and now-"

"Maerad, don't," said Silvia sharply. "You are a young woman-a Gifted woman, yes-but you are still so young, and the Nameless One was far more powerful than any man."

She turned her bright eyes on Malgorn. "I'm just sorry."

Malgorn didn't smile, but made a small, capitulating wave of his hands. "You didn't do this to me, Maerad. You didn't do this to any of us. Don't let him convince you that you are to blame."

"It's how the Dark does it work," Silvia said, stilling holding Maerad's hand. "It will seek to make you small where you are not, scared where you should be brave."

Maerad appreciated the sentiment, but it was hard to believe it when she was faced with the consequences of her actions.


"You two took your time," the Nameless One observed coolly as Cadvan and Saliman entered the throne room. He tore his gaze away from Hem and Finlan and watched the other Bards cross the room. They kept their eyes raised and their faces, at least far as the Nameless One was concerned, annoyingly calm. He didn't like their sullen superiority, their carefully reserved nature, it was almost as bad as the pathetic, cowering Finlan. He wanted to see their fear, taste it on the air around them.

Useless, all of them, the Nameless One thought peevishly. An eternity lies before us, and I will have to spend it with these miserable little halfwits. I wanted wolves and I got dogs. His eyes moved back to Hem. He could see, though the boy had lowered his eyes, the anger etched on his face. He didn't take well to captivity. At least the Pellinor brats keep well enough.

"We waited for your summons," Saliman said mildly, carefully looking anywhere but at Hem. He didn't trust himself to exchange a look with the boy, not when he missed him so much his heart ached. Instead, he examined Finlan, frowning at his state. "You must have been otherwise occupied."

The Nameless One smirked and reached out a tendril of consciousness to the First Bard slumped on his floor. He flinched and the Nameless One gestured widely. "I've just been doing my part to see my charges well cared for. It's never easy when so many people depend on you."

Cadvan thought of Nelac locked in the cold, dank cells below the tower, a man who should have been resting safely in a bed somewhere, and narrowed his eyes. "You certainly do them all justice. A fair and respected master."

"You speak from personal experience, I'm sure," teased the Nameless One, and turned away from the scene before him, ambling toward his throne at leisure. "Hem, you can help Finlan back to his cell."

Hem barely managed to cover the look of annoyance on his face at being sent away from Saliman, but Finlan seemed relieved by the news that he was allowed to leave. With Hem's help he slumped away, sparing one sympathetic glance for Cadvan and Saliman. It was common knowledge that these two spent more time than any other Bard in the Nameless One's company, and he pitied them their close contact with such a monster.

"There is quite a day ahead of us," the Nameless One announced, looking between the blank faces of Cadvan and Saliman. "You've heard the news, of Enkir's victory in the west? The Fall of Il Arundh?"

Neither Bard felt this merited the expression of joy on the Nameless One's face. "Those Bards will be arriving soon?"

"Very soon," agreed the Nameless One. As usual, he had a glass of wine near his seat, and he sipped it. His dark eyes slid sideways to Saliman, he raised his glass. "For three thousand years I lived a desolate life. Food could not sate me, water could not quench me, now, after one Song, I find the world alive and rich again. Your people make a fine wine."

Cadvan saw a muscle move in his jaw. "A pity that they will make no more."

"They won't?" asked the Nameless One, surprised. "Why ever not? Surely the vines still grow? Some of the winemakers must have lived?" He took a long draw on the wine and a droplet of ruby liquid slid down his chin. "Your friend Malgorn is a winemaker, yes? I'll have him make me some."

The Nameless One enjoyed playing with them, Cadvan reflected. Half the conversations they had with him were pointless chat, nothing but the Nameless One cheerfully drawing their attention to one aspect of another of their life he had personally ruined. Cadvan had once told Maerad that suffering answered a lack of something in a Hull, it seemed the same for the Nameless One. But he didn't have to torture his victims to get his pound of flesh.

"Not in the state he's in," Saliman said stiffy.

"He's in such bad form? Even with your two lovely ladies tending to him?" It shouldn't have been a surprise to either of them that the Nameless One knew Maerad and Hekibel were down in the cells with their friends, but it was unnerving all the same. The Nameless One sensed their unease and gestured placatingly to the seats to his right. "Come, have no fear. We three, we are men of our word. They go unharmed about my palace." He offered them both wine as they stiltedly approached him.

"Do you always know where they are?" Saliman asked, in part, truly curious as to the extent of the Nameless One's knowledge.

He sat back on his throne, breathing slowly. "I don't really care what the human does. Maerad, of course, I don't trust sneaking about my fastness. I should like to see her chained in my dungeon, broken and bowed by force of my will, but Cadvan sees fit to keep her free."

Cadvan tensed. He knew the Nameless One could sense Maerad, but the knowledge that he did worried him. Or, perhaps worried wasn't the right word. Cadvan turned inward, coldly observing the part of him that twisted uncomfortably every time the Nameless One mentioned Maerad. It was fear. He was afraid. He was afraid and he hated it; he hated how small he felt when it gripped him, driving out his senses.

Like a scared boy, Cadvan thought angrily.

"You told me I could do as I liked with her," Cadvan answered evenly.

"Yes," agreed the Nameless One, "but I had something else in mind."

Cadvan flushed at the implication. "It does not surprise me that your understanding of love is limited to the crude impulses of the lowest men."

"Noble words from a man who takes a whore to his bed," the Nameless One returned smartly. His smile stretched wider across his face when Cadvan dropped his gaze. "Tell me, Cadvan, has she treated you well? Has she demonstrated her gifts? Are you mightily pleased with the woman I gave you?"

Saliman noticed that Cadvan's hands were clenched into tight fists. "Maerad's Gift might undo you."

The Nameless One burst into raucous laughter. It echoed around the room, bouncing around off the walls and raising the hair on the back of their necks. "What do you think, Cadvan? Are you utterly undone by her? Are you willing to share?"

Cadvan looked appalled at the suggestion. "You will not touch a hair on her head."

Saliman was at a loss and the Nameless One saw it. "So, you have not told your friend? Are you ashamed? Is it that you wish to keep her to yourself? Normally, I would understand, but…why? If I may speak plainly, you have not partaken in her many charms. Do you plan to? If not, you might as well share."

"Stop," Cadvan said, his face black.

"Come, Cadvan, but an honest friend. Tell him of Maerad's many wiles."

Saliman suspected that whatever the Nameless One was driving at was either very sad or very embarrassing, and he suddenly had no desire to know it. He was tired of such malice. "I care not," Saliman said darkly. "What transpires between Cadvan and Maerad is their business."

The Nameless One, though, wouldn't leave it. He had sent Cadvan away to war in the hope that the destruction of his home and the enslavement of his people might Darken his soul, make him finally see that the world was a hard and cruel place with no room for the Light. Perhaps he was a bit fouler of mood, but the Nameless One perceived the Light in him, undimmed by the war. Frustrated, the Nameless One renewed his efforts to seduce him with the girl. He had given long thought to it and decided that his previous approach-to simply have her stripped and thrown at him-lacked finesse. It was too easy for Cadvan to say no. But sending the girl off to the brothel, that had been clever. Now, there was no denying she was tempting, she dressed and moved and spoke like a whore, she roused desire in the men in his tower. And he knew she had learned the skills of a courtesan, he knew what she was capable of. But, since Cadvan's return, he had done nothing to the girl. He seemed determined to prove himself the kind and gentle mentor and this annoyed the Nameless One more than anything else. He needed Cadvan to act on his impulses, he needed him to be selfish and careless, and take the things he wanted. He needed to show him his own Darkness, disguised as love.

Any other man would have had her the night he returned. The Nameless One eyed Cadvan unhappily. Perhaps she does not truly serve as I ordered. I will talk to her about that.

"Nothing transpires between Cadvan and Maerad, to which I am perplexed. Speak plainly, Cadvan," the Nameless One ordered, and Cadvan glanced at him unwillingly. "Does her appearance please you?"

"Yes."

"Does she awaken in you the desires of man?"

Cadvan cheeks turned faintly red. "Yes."

"Has she not made herself more than available to you?"

"Every night."

"Then what more do you want of her? I have been assured she is skilled. She probably knows things even Bard women don't. Shall I send her back?"

Saliman noticed how uncomfortable Cadvan was. "Send her back where?" he asked sharply.

The Nameless One smirked at Cadvan then grinned at Saliman. "While you two were off playing war, I sent Maerad to a brothel so she might learn how to please a man."

Saliman's outrage came on like a storm. "How dare you send a daughter of the House of Karn-"

"How dare I?" snarled the Nameless One, and Saliman felt his chest constrict as the Nameless One bore down him. "I do as I please with my subjects. Did you think I would let the girl who tried to kill me go about as she liked? No. She deserved to be shamed and humiliated, the world needed to know what she was. Now they see her for what she is: a whore."

Saliman jaw was locked, but his anger was clear on his face. Cadvan spoke softly. "Just because you sent her to a whorehouse doesn't make her one. She is still Milana of Pellinor's daughter."

"And that woman was a slut, too," the Nameless One snapped, slamming his hand down on the arm of his throne. "Laying with one of the Pilinal…it's almost as bad as Maerad and you, Cobbler Cadvan."

His eyes narrowed and his words were cutting. "Call me whatever names you will, but Maerad isn't a whore just because you make her dress like one."

"Oh, you've noticed?" The Nameless One found this amusing. "I hardly know how you get work done with her lounging about."

"I manage well enough," Cadvan said stiltedly, pointedly ignoring the Nameless One's insinuation.

"You do indeed, and I must admit, it confuses me. She could serve you well."

Saliman had found his voice. "Most men don't want a servant."

"Most men don't own their women," the Nameless One said promptly. "But, Cadvan is quite different in that regard. He serves me well, and so I reward him. I gave him the woman, and, when that was not enough, I had her sent off to learn how to please him. Now, he does not accept my gift. I am trying to be a good master to you, reward you for your assistance. Do you want more?"

"I am happy with what I have," Cadvan said evenly.

"And yet, you do not make the most of what you might have. I am confused."

"I am not going to take a woman to my bed if she doesn't absolutely want to be there." Cadvan had gripped the arms of his chair tightly. "You can make her dress however you want, make her say whatever you want, but it won't change how I treat her."

The Nameless One stared at Cadvan, his smile becoming tighter and tighter, the silence stretching longer and longer. It fleetingly crossed Cadvan's mind that he might strike him upside the head, but then he shrugged carelessly, "She needs to be put in her place, and you will do it."

An unspoken threat lingered in his voice and Cadvan glanced at him sharply. "I'll…speak to her."

"See that you do. The girl thinks she has the run of this castle. Make sure she understands otherwise." His dark eyes were boring into Cadvan and he had the horrible feeling of the Nameless One shifting through his thoughts, focusing on earlier that morning when he sat with Maerad at breakfast.

You're not wrong, Cadvan. She looks lovely in the morning, when the light glances off her hair and she smiles up at you. You certainly could have spent your time better than sitting across the table from her.

Cadvan cringed at the touch of the Nameless One's consciousness. Leave me be.

I'll never leave you, the Nameless One chuckled. You'll always be mine.

While Saliman wanted to talk to Cadvan about what had transpired, he sensed the other Bard's mounting embarrassment and desire to turn the conversation to something other than Maerad. Saliman cleared his throat. "You called us here for a reason, and I hope it was not just to taunt Cadvan about his personal life."

The Nameless One considered this before shrugging carelessly. "Perhaps you are right, Saliman. I am too easily distracted by the lives of my courtiers."

"We're not your courtiers," Saliman hissed. He would allow the Nameless One to call him many things, but he wasn't complacent enough to allow that. He wasn't a loyal and willing subject of the creature that had destroyed his home and his people.

"A delicate subject, I see. But I suppose I understand your anger. A large group of Bards from Turbansk have been found hiding under the dirt like rats. Were they your friends? The ones who were trying to sneak into my city and spy on me?" When Saliman refused to speak, the Nameless One said, "Soron, Hared, Narbila-Turbansk's Second Circle, no? And the refugees, Orona, Nimikeri, and Irisanu. It was good of you to share those memories with me, Saliman. It made it so much easier to send the dogs after them." Saliman was pale. "They're not dead-no need to look so scared-they're here in Dagra. Obviously, they need to be interrogated but I imagine afterward you'll be able to visit them. I could even arrange an escort for you to the ghetto where I keep the rest of your people."

Cadvan didn't recognize the names, but he could hardly miss the tension in Saliman's back and shoulders. He supposed they were good friends of his, and to hear your friends were captives in Dagra was never easy. Saliman swallowed loudly.

"They are brave enough to refuse you," he said proudly.

"Bravery does not make one wise," observed the Nameless One. "They challenged me, and I will not ignore that. We'll see how far their bravery gets them once my Hulls begin interrogation."

Saliman hesitated, before saying, "If you allow me to speak to them, I will be able to get the information you want faster than with torture."

"Is that right?" There was a note of amusement in the Nameless One's voice. He fixed Saliman with his dark gaze and Saliman felt something reach out and touch his thoughts. It felt like a noxious gas, seeping through his veins and he felt cold in his fingers. "Perhaps I will allow you to visit them first, perhaps you can demonstrate to my servants how to extract information without the need for pain."

For some reason, the offer sounded more like a threat. "Let me see them."

"In good time," said the Nameless One carelessly. "There's more pressing issues at hand now. In the west, Enkir marches now on Ileadh. I hear they have taken to guarding themselves, fortifying their defenses and building walls. We will need to send him aid."

Both Cadvan and Saliman tensed. The last thing either wanted was to be sent into battle on behalf of the Nameless One again. "What sort of aid?" Cadvan asked.

"The Bards still do no suspect that Enkir serves under my command. They view him as a fanatic of the Light, obsessed but true. If I send my soldiers, they will realize too soon that he serves my will, and I can't have that. I think we will need to summon creatures of the Abyss to go forth and sap their strength. If the Bards are made weak by the Dark, then they will fall swiftly to Enkir's army."

"You will have us summon these creatures for you then?"

"It is in your Gift, yes? I heard you summoned a wight or two for Likud while in his service. But, is a wight what we need…" the Nameless One wandered off, sinking into his thoughts. "Perhaps something more. Something with the power to send dread and fear into the hearts of the Bards. Something that erodes their wills."

"Surely, a wight would suffice?" Cadvan asked in a hard voice. Frankly, he was disgusted with the work of summoning Dark creatures; it always left him with a bitter taste in his mouth and a cold feeling that went as deep as his bones. And he knew that the stronger the creature was, the worse the effects of the summoning were.

"I am not interested in sufficing," the Nameless One said coldly. "This is to be my greatest victory, my rise to limitless power. I am going to cover this land in a Darkness so complete the Light and the Speech will be forgotten. There can be no doubt as to whose power is greatest."

"If not a wight, then what?" Cadvan had a feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.

"A shika," the Nameless One said after a moment of thoughtful consideration. "I want you to summon me a shika."

"No," said Saliman at once. "Absolutely not."

The Nameless One smirked. "You cannot refuse me."

"I will cut my own tongue out before releasing such a thing onto the world."

The Nameless One looked intrigued. "I'll skin Hekibel alive right here in this room."

A spasm of black anger passed over Saliman's face at the threat. "Then you'd lose the one thing that gives you control over me."

"Idiot Bard!" the Nameless One snarled, and the chair Saliman was seated on jerked back. He stumbled out of it, but the Nameless One slammed his hand down on the table and Saliman fell to his knees. "If the fancy took me, I could control every movement, every word, you made. Your Name is mine, your will does not even need to be broken, you serve at my pleasure."

Saliman pressed back against the Nameless One's will, but it was an impossibly large force. Rarely did the Nameless One exert his full strength over Saliman, preferring to tease the Bard, but when he did, Saliman was suddenly reminded of the dreadful strength of him. It was absolutely complete, utterly unmovable. Cadvan didn't leave his chair, but he watched in mute horror as the Nameless One leaned closer.

"You say you will refuse me? I say you won't," the Nameless One whispered.

Words fought their way up Saliman's throat. "I won't refuse you."

"You say you will not release a shika unto the world. I say you will."

"I'll summon the shika."

"And you will do it with that charming smile on your face."

This time, Saliman struggled against the feeling of his muscles being manually moved. It felt like someone had taken his face in their hands and was molding and shaping the muscles and bones in his face into a tight smile. Saliman clamped down on his teeth, but it did little to stop the painful smile stretching across his face.

When Saliman saw Cadvan flinch at the sight, he guessed his smile was horrendous. The Nameless One, though, chuckled. "You look so much more appealing when you smile, Saliman. Such a handsome little Bard you are. Now, you were saying you would summon the shika at my command?"

"When?" Saliman bit out.

The Nameless One drew his hands together thoughtfully. "I think soon. I want the shika to attack the city before Enkir arrives. The Bards will be weak then, helpless to his power."

"It could take more than Saliman and I," Cadvan pointed out. He wished Saliman would stop smiling his toothy grin, it looked terrifying.

Saliman's smile remained fixed in place, though, as the Nameless One continued. "Probably. I summoned one to destroy Imank, and even then, it broke my command. But a few First Bards might be able to control the creature."

"They are weak," Cadvan said, poorly concealing his anger at how they had been treated.

"Weak, but not powerless. The First Circle of Innail has strength, and Lirigon, too. Ettinor is as shattered as that idiot, Finlan. But, if all of your summoned it together, I think your strength would hold it. If not, my word will be."

Cadvan suspected that the First Circle of Innail would not be pleased with such an idea. "And Maerad and Hem?"

A strange expression crossed the Nameless One's face. Cadvan could have sworn for a moment that he looked uncertain. Perhaps even fearful. "The Pellinor brats are not to do magery because I do not recognize them as Bards."

Cadvan raised an eyebrow sardonically. It was the first time in months he had seen the slightest hint of trepidation and he wouldn't let the moment pass. "Oh? Then how do you recognize them?"

The Nameless One narrowed his eyes, sensing the tenor of Cadvan's thoughts. "The girl is a whore and the boy is a clown, and if I get wind of either of them using their Gift, I'll have them both strung up in my dungeons to let the Hulls play with them." And then, because Cadvan still wore a look of dry humor on his face, he added, "You know that Likud is waiting for the opportunity to see miss Maerad again."

Cadvan dropped his face. "Maerad does not use her Gift in my presence."

"You will discuss this with her, Cadvan. Remind her what she is here for." The Nameless One's voice had returned to its icy clarity. He drummed his fingers on the table before him. "Together, you will all summon me a shika and we will set it upon Ileadh."

Though his face was still down, Cadvan looked up from under his eyelashes furiously. "If you think that's best."

"You know, Cadvan, you're becoming quite biddable. I like it. You're almost like…a dog."

Cadvan's temper flared. "Some dogs bit."

"Then perhaps you need a muzzle," the Nameless One said with crooked smile. When Cadvan didn't speak, the Nameless One continued. "You know, Cadvan, I think it's best if you summon the shika. I was going to have that old oaf, Nelac, do it just to see the look on his face was I ordered him to it, but I think you're more suited for the task. You certainly know your way around a summoning."

Cadvan bit back a sharp retort. "Your trust in me is staggering."

"If you fail, Maerad will pay the price."

Now Cadvan did look up, and the Nameless One was pleased to see a bright light in his eyes. He was furious. "Then I won't fail, will I?"