Free Legacy of Kings by C. S. Friedman Page B

days even the most casual gesture seemed ominous to him. The beast that lay coiled at the heart of each Magister understood what its relationship to its own kind was—even if its host was not consciously aware of it—and was perpetually bracing itself for combat.
    “Magisters.” Colivar acknowledged Lazaroth’s role as host with a brief nod of respect, then took the place that had been prepared for him, at the fourth side of the table. Power rippled between the Magisters in the warm Kierdwyn air, tendrils of sorcery testing, anticipating, exploring. There was a time when so many Magisters could not even have been in the same room together, much less shared any kind of civilized conversation. Colivar glanced at Ramirus, and saw by the furrowing of his brow that he was remembering that time, too. Sometimes it seemed like yesterday. Should they have taught their apprentices more about that part of their past? For Colivar that would have required too much explanation, too much vulnerability. He had secrets that required forgetfulness. And doubtless Ramirus had made a similar choice. So now the younger Magisters were defined by their ignorance, just as the older ones were by their memories. Colivar thought he knew which category Lazaroth fell into, but with sorcerers you could never be sure; a man might change his flesh and play the role of a newcomer just for the novelty of it. Only when you brought a man through First Transition yourself did you know for certain just how old he was.
    “Ramirus, Colivar, Sulah . . . I thank you for coming.” Lazaroth nodded to each of them in turn. “Back when you all assisted with the Alkali campaign, I promised to keep you informed of what we discovered there. Today I will make good on that promise. Please feel free to ask any questions you like, and if you have information to offer in return, it would certainly be welcome.” A corner of his mouth twitched: the fleeting hint of a cold smile. “Admittedly, our kind are generally more disposed to hoarding information than sharing it. But I think you will agree that the return of an ancient enemy calls for new strategies.
    “Kierdwyn’s Seers have investigated the breach in the Wrath. Independent witches from Alkali were also brought in, to confirm their findings. I would not have chosen to trust the Alkali in this matter had I been the one making that decision, but the breach took place inside that Protectorate, so Lord Kierdwyn felt they could not rightfully be excluded.”
    No doubt the delicate Seers would have preferred to march straight into Hell itself rather than get within range of the Wrath, Colivar thought. The willingness of the Guardians to sacrifice themselves never ceased to amaze him. Then again, were they not descended from the same witches and warriors who had offered up their lives centuries ago, to save the world from ruin? Sacrifice was in their blood. They sucked it in along with their mothers’ milk.
    Yet even such a heritage can be corrupted , he thought soberly. Even a hero may do terrible things, if circumstances drive him to it.
    “Apparently a number of ikati have already crossed into the south,” Lazaroth continued. “As we feared might be the case.”
    “How many?” Sulah asked.
    He shook his head. “Unclear. The impressions are hard to detect, for obvious reasons. Very few of the creatures made physical contact with the terrain—at least in the places we have searched—so there are few anchors to focus on. Most of the traces that do exist appear to have been left by a single Souleater, apparently connected with Nyuku.”
    “Nyuku?” The color drained from Colivar’s face so quickly that he could not stop it. The sorcerous tendrils surrounding him began to prick at his mental armor like a thousand tiny spears, seeking insight into his reaction; it took all his skill—and emotional composure—to fend them off. He could not afford to let these Magisters see how much that name stirred his