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.Gathrid was surprised at the depth and strength of his voice and emotions.He had felt very tentative, launching into the Old Petralian.Plauen had taught the language with dedication, but with despair because his students mangled it so.Old Petralian was the language of the Anderlean Empire of olden times, of the Imperium of the age of the Immortal Twins.Today it was a highly formalized and formularized tongue reserved for occasions when the vulgate was considered either gauche or insufficiently precise.For Gathrid to have elected its usage before his betters had chosen to do so could, in diplomatic terms, be construed as mildly insulting."In Gudermuth the wine has soured.The silks have been torn asunder.The beautiful women weep at the feet of the conqueror.And their men wonder what became of the brothers who pledged them succor at Torun.What became of the swords and lances so boldly rattled then? The wise men, the old warriors, who fought for other Kings in other wars in other lands, and who know the ways of alliances, tell them it takes time.It takes patience.They tell them that they need but hold a while longer."But even they have begun to wonder." Gathrid turned slowly, sweeping his gaze round the gathering.His anger disturbed them, but they were thinking he was only a man, even armed with the Sword.Their attitudes were clearly cast on their faces.Springing from his subconscious, like a leaping dolphin, came the realization that he was not speaking his own words.These were borrowed.He had translated and adapted them, but the originals had been voiced long ago by Obers Lek, before a similar council in another age.Though he did not yet believe it, did not yet feel it, in a sense he was becoming superhuman.He possessed a vast experiential reservoir.He simply had to learn to tap the memories of the men he had slain.Kimach Faulstich, the Bilgoraji King, upon whom Gathrid was prepared to lay the blame for Gudermuth's demise, chaired the convention both because its army had assembled in his dominion and because he was one of the Alliance's founders.He rose, awaited a lull in the outraged chatter, then answered Gathrid.He, too, spoke Old Petralian."Who are you, that you dare come among us uninvited, questioning the acts of Kings?"Kimach had regained his -composure quickly.His counterburst calmed the others.They turned hard eyes on Gathrid.One fat Magister eyed Daubendiek with a lust almost obscene."The Esquire spoke for me," Gathrid purred.His gaze dared the Magister.Thus it had been for Tureck Aarant.His closest allies had lusted after the Great Sword.He had endured and survived countless attempts to steal it.He had dared turn his back on no man but Rogala, and even that had proven fatal in the end.Rogala answered Kimach with an arrogant snort.The Bilgoraji was wasting time.He strolled to a low table facing the lustful-eyed Magister of the Red Order.He kicked a woman aside, dropped to his hams, seized and began gnawing a piece of roast fowl.The Magister turned as red as his clothing.With preternatural accuracy the dwarf had chosen a victim sure to be offended.This Magister was the infamous Gerdes Mulenex, the most violently storied member of the Brotherhood.Mulenex's reputation had run by whisper and innuendo throughout the west.His arrogance and viciousness were legend.His enemies within his own Order, who had tried to thwart his rise, had come to cruel and lingering ends.In his way he was as nasty and ambitious as the Ventimiglian Mindak, though he was a weaker, less imaginative man.He could not endure the sacrifices necessary for one who would seize powers matching those attained by Ahlert.He was limited in his own mastery of the sorceries.He inveigled more competent, less ambitious men into performing his thaumaturgies for him.He was not above stealing their credit.There was just one upward step Mulenex could take within the Brotherhood, the Fray Magistery or crown of mastery, over all five Orders.No one, and the present Fray Magister, Klutho Misplaer, least, doubted that he meant to try taking that step.Emperor Elgar, of the Anderlean Imperium, was a friend and political ally of Klutho Misplaer.Both resided in Sartain, capital of the Empire since prehistoric times.The seat and symbol of Brotherhood Power was a grand old palace called the Raftery.The Imperial Palace and the Raftery both had long been braced for a Mulenex intrigue.Mulenex had confounded everyone by appearing to remain content with his present status, devoting himself to profligate living and hurling scorn at the objects of his ambitions.Theis Rogala seized a knife.He stabbed a particularly succulent morsel off Mulenex's own plate.Mulenex reached for his own knife
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