Free Phoenix Rising by Ryk E Spoor Page B

King.”
    “Do any others have anything to add? For know that now is the time to speak, if any of you believe anything threatens the plan, especially with this change in timing.” Kerlamion’s tone was moderated from its initial leashed anger, and he was clearly demanding honest responses now.
    The man in the chair considered briefly. Well . . . a few things to discuss with my patron, but nothing to bring up with . . . him .
    Several others did speak, asking questions, clarifying requirements. Even though he understood the overall goals, the man watching still felt a chill of . . . awe? fear? simple excitement? . . . as he heard the mention of carefully devised strategies against every possible stronghold of the enemy, and realized that all of these plans were to culminate on the same day, four years from this moment.
    Soon the discussions were finished, and the black-glowing figure surveyed them all one last time, and nodded.
    “Then this council is at an end.” Kerlamion vanished, as did Voorith. As he had expected, the third figure remained, and smiled.
    “What fortuitous timing,” it said. The human-seeming fingers brushed back light-colored hair which, the seated man knew, was no more real than the reflection itself.
    He had to admit that this last remark escaped him, however. “I confess that I don’t quite understand.”
    It smiled, a glitter of teeth perfect, white . . . and not quite human. “Let us say that while Voorith does not know why four years is a fortunate period of delay, I do. A most fortunate coincidence, especially for Voorith himself. The Lord of All Hells is far less tolerant and forgiving than I am.”
    Controlled as he was, the man in the chair could not—quite—prevent himself from glancing down at what was both evidence of that tolerance, and reminder of just how terrible it could be, if that tolerance were worn thin.
    It didn’t miss that glance, either, and the smile widened momentarily. “ Far less tolerant. You very nearly caused me, and my plans, inconvenience some time ago . . . but you have learned well. Kerlamion tends to deal with failure . . . poorly.” Its gaze became intense. “You do also understand our position?”
    He nodded tensely. “I . . . believe so.” It was astonishingly hard to say the next words, though he had realized the truth some years before. “You . . . have a deeper plan than that of the Lord of All Hells. That is, your plan given to him has some other levels of its own. One that has something to do with—”
    It cut him off with a sharp glare. “Do not say names. Any names. I believe this mirror scroll is proof against spying . . . but not, perhaps, completely so.” It looked at him steadily. “Are you willing to continue, knowing that you risk playing so deep and very dangerous a game?”
    He nodded, managing a smile of his own. “I am. I believe you know precisely what you are doing . . . even in this case.”
    The humanoid’s tone became cordial. “Excellent. Then I trust you are . . . enjoying your first rewards?”
    The man smiled more naturally. The being he spoke to might not share all the same interests that he did, but it certainly did not mind supporting them as long as he never forgot who he served, and did not fail it. And one day I may be like it . “I am tremendously appreciative, my most generous and supremely devious patron,” he said, “and I hope—as time goes on—that I will continue to show you that I am worthy of the full reward you have offered.”
    “If all goes well . . .” it chuckled, and the lights at the edge of the table flickered as though in fear, “if all goes well . . . it is quite possible. Sooner than you might think, in fact.
    “Now, it will be a challenge to delay things, my friend, especially where you are. Remembering that except when I personally present myself to you, you cannot— none of you can—approach or speak to me in any way that indicates a special familiarity. I will thus be relying