Free A Victory for Kregen by Alan Burt Akers Page B

any other quality you would wish me to assume you possess?”
    The old devil was thrusting the gimlet right in, well enough. I warmed to him.
    “I have had dealings with Wizards of Loh before. I respect their arts. I respect their integrity insofar as I have met with it. I own to a grievous debt outstanding to a Wizard in Ruathytu—”
    “You refer to San Rening? Que-si-Rening who was resident and secret Wizard of Loh to Queen Thyllis?”
    I shook my head in amazement. “I do. He assisted me and I promised to aid him, and I have not done so.”
    “Do not trouble your head over San Rening—”
    “No!” I said. “He is not dead?”
    “No. He effected his escape. It was prettily done. I did not know you knew him. He lives now in safety and practices at a small court in the Dawn Lands. It is not a useful thing for you to know which—”
    “No. I agree. But I am glad he is a free man again.”
    “But San Yantong...”
    “Do you also know Khe-Hi-Bjanching?”
    Bjanching was that certain Wizard of Loh with whom Delia and I and others had gone through the adventure of the doors and the test — and the pit, too, by Vox! — and he had taken up residence in my home of Esser Rarioch. Now he had been banished back to Loh by superior sorcery and I wondered if he was well, as I wondered if all my friends who had been sent sorcerously packing off to their homes were well.
    “I have heard the name, only. He is a new and young adept and has his name to make.”
    “If you contact him on whatever astral plane you go wandering in when you are in lupu, tell him he is missed.”
    He inclined his red-haired head.
    “As you please.”
    “And now — about this kleesh Yantong.”
    He talked, slowly at first and then warming to his subject as his indignation overcame him. Yantong had been defying the sacred tenets of the Wizards of Loh. Always the Sans exercised their power from the background, from the shadows. Now Yantong wanted to strut forth and hog the limelight, to take the power and be seen to take it. slaying all who stood in his path. Quienyin was quite clearly shattered.
    He told me a few things I did not know; but generally he merely recited what I knew of Yantong’s sins against humanity.
     
    “And yet,” I said, “he is a man. There must be something of good in him. Surely, everything has not been thrown away?”
    “I would like to think that, Jak. But if there is aught of goodness left in him, I have not descried it.”
    I let out a breath.
    “Well. I’ll put a blade through his guts if we meet, if I can; but I’ll still like to think he’s not all evil. Can there be such a thing as a totally evil man?”
    “Theory says not. But we have to test that theory.”
    “Yes — and my Khamorro?”
    “You mean, of course, Turko the Shield?”
    I refused to be amazed.
    “You know much. I accept that, and I respect your still tongue and your friendship. Yes, I mean Turko.”
    “He quitted Herrelldrin. You will not be surprised if I tell you he attempted to reach Vallia—”
    “Attempted?”
    “He is down in South Pandahem. As a Khamorro he works in a booth in a fairground—”
    “My Turko!”
    “It is a common occupation for the Khamsters—”
    “Aye, it is. And they do not like anyone but themselves calling them Khamster.”
    “So I believe. He is well, and seems to be resigned to his fate. There is a girl and a man — but they veil their emotions.
    If you go to South Pandahem you will find him at the Sign of the Golden Prychan in Mahendrasmot.”
    “I’ve never been there. But I shall go.”
    Quienyin shifted around. He licked his lips. If he weren’t a Wizard of Loh I’d have thought he was nerving himself to ask something. We spoke a little, then at random, waiting for the burs to pass so that we might resume our flight. At last he said, in a straight, fierce voice, “And if I went to Vallia, you believe I would be well received?”
    If he wasn’t going to come out with it, neither was