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us.
    “Put him to the sword!” They cried, alarmed at his ability to move Them while standing many paces from the Bench. “Put him to death for he is a demon!”
    Of course, this had always been known: Reapers are changelings, warebeasts, Dearg Duls from the world of Chale. But no one had guessed at the sexual powers instilled in the powerful-growing body of this young male. We knew he could read minds, but up until that time, he had not exhibited what we later learned was a very adept psychic ability to place thoughts where they should not be.
    And cause intense surges of sexual longing that can best be described only as evil incarnate.
    So alarmed did the Court become that the young man, Iyan, was hurriedly sent for and brought, dagger to his throat, to his knees before the Bench.
    “Stop this now or you will be the cause of this man’s death!” the Chief Elder warned the Reaper.
    As I write this, I can still see the fury that leapt in the amber glare of the Reaper’s eyes when McGregor was brought in. The Reaper knew what had been done to his friend and the fury pulsing from those molten eyes was lethal. I shiver at the look of hellish intent that passed quickly over his face before he dropped to his knees beside his friend and offered his own throat to the dagger.
    “Kill me now and be done with it!” he snarled, “for unless you do, I will make every gods-be-damned woman on this world wish she had never been born for what you have done to this man!”
    In answer to the Reaper’s rash demand, the dagger was drawn across the throat of the Reaper’s friend and bright crimson flooded over the ebony stones of the Court. With a scream of such primal agony it took us all aback, Khiershon Cree threw himself over the body of his friend. Before we could stop him, he tore the veins of his own wrist open with his teeth to allow the black blood to pulse into the gushing wound of Iyan’s throat.
    Even as we watched in stunned amazement, Iyan’s crimson blood slowed to a trickle and the lethal wound began to close. Hovering over his friend, his wrist to Iyan’s throat, the Reaper began to chant in the ancient language of the Chalean priests: a Charm of Making, the Elders told us. Whatever it was, it healed the young man and brought him back from the very arms of the Gatherer.
    For a long time we stood there, watching as Khiershon Cree rocked his unconscious friend against him, crooning words that we could not understand. When at last he was sure the young man would live, he turned eyes now dulled with surrender to the Elders who were gawking at him with fear and awe.
    “He is all I have. Do not hurt him again and I will give you no more trouble,” he said softly. “I will do whatever you will have me do, I will humble myself to you, if you will give me your word of honor, on the Court of the Veils, that you will never lay another hand to Iyan McGregor to hurt him in any way.”
    He bowed his head in what we thought was defeat and when he looked up, we were astounded to see tears in his eyes. It is well-known that Reapers do not cry. “I will do whatever is asked of me, but swear you will never harm my friend again. Swear it and I will be your obedient servant until there is no more breath within this body.”
    The Elders conferred amongst Themselves and decided it was best to do as he asked if it meant he would no longer fight the destiny planned for him. It was agreed and They gave Their unbreakable vows as Elders of the Court: No harm would ever befall Iyan McGregor at the hands of an Amazeen.
    How well he played us that day. How well he knew, even then, the great power within him. Looking back, we now have no doubt among us that he knew he would be able to save his friend by feeding the man from his own tainted blood: blood infected with that which makes him what he is. He staged the entire drama, sacrificed a few moments of pain for Iyan for the certain knowledge that we would not be able to stop him when the time