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Faurbuhl was with us though, I cannot imagine. Serves him
justly, the old dough-pate, that you garroted him; he was so damnable certain
that you trusted him.”
    Springbuck’s
mind whirled as he juggled this new information. Faurbuhl a traitor and
Duskwind loyal? He played a gambit to learn more.
    “How high do
you stand in this, Eliatim? How many are arrayed against me?”
    The other threw
his head back and gave a short crow of laughter. “How many? Oh you fool! All,
or almost all! Duskwind proved difficult to subvert, but we had little need of
her. She’s probably been attended to already. The Court’s been weeded
carefully, with some stubborn holdouts like Legion-Marshal Bonesteel exiled to
duty on far marches and some, like Hightower, killed.” He sighed, then giggled,
and shook his graying head regretfully. “I’m sorry I missed the end of the
great Hightower, but I have business of my own tonight.
    “I must say,
though, that you were quite clever to kill Faurbuhl and depart while I was
gone. Since he had no opportunity to signal your escape, no one suspected it at
first. But when Novanwyn and Desenge described their encounter with a peculiar
Alebowrenian whom they thought resembled you, I went to your room to
investigate.”
    With this he
brought his blade into line and moved forward on the Prince, who retreated a
step, still hoping for the chance to break away and avoid a duel. To delay
further, he said, “You and Fania and Bey forget one thing: Strongblade is still
my father’s son. It may be that he won’t bend to your plans as readily as you
think.”
    That brought
the blademaster up short, but his face was filled with glee, not doubt. “Idiot
child,” he scoffed, “your ‘stepbrother’ is not Surehand’s son, he is Yardirf
Bey’s! D’you think that’s a hard thing for the greatest mage in the world to
accomplish? It was no more difficult than slaying your mother by his arts; and
those stupid Court physicians, how easily they were misled. He’d groomed Fania
almost since birth for the one task of marrying your father and—hi!—how it
vexed him that just as he was about to introduce her at Court, Surehand married
another. Well, all’s remedied and things are on their proper course. Your
father was well taken with Fania, even in his mourning, but on their wedding
eve it was Yardiff Bey’s seed in her belly; Strongblade is no part of your
lineage. Bey’s victory over the Crescent Lands will rest on three children of
his body, the first a girl-child, the second male and the third both and
neither.”
    Eliatim told
the tale with huge relish, enjoying its effect on Springbuck, venting
long-checked hatred. “He purchased my soul, yes, but I’m satisfied with the
bargain. We two closed a pact long and long ago on the High Ranges when the
Horseblooded had cast me out, and he brought me to Earthfast when you were a
week old. I’ve served him well and waited out this hour. When you’re dead—few
questions will be raised about your disappearance, I think—I go on to better
things and vengeance of my own.”
    He giggled
again, a thing seldom heard from grim Eliatim. “But I keep digressing. Let us
tally what you’ve learned from my lessons, for in one wise I’ve been honorable;
I was engaged to teach you the arts of war and I have done it as best I could.
Mayhap if you’ve paid sufficient attention you’ll yet keep your life.”
    And he
advanced, all jocularity gone in the application of his trade. The Prince
circled warily, knowing that at his best he was not likely to match the other,
who was himself something of a magician in matters of bared blades.
    Then, unlooked
for, came a violent gust of wind, so strong and cold that it might have come
from the straining lungs of an intervening deity, to blow out the little
lantern and hurl a leafy branch into the face of shocked Eliatim. He gave a
startled curse and brought his free hand up involuntarily. Springbuck knew that
his chance had