Enchanter's End Game

passions, no hungers, no fears." She turned back to her mirror. "You may go now, Sadi."
    He rose and started toward the door.
    "Oh, Sadi."
    "Yes, my Queen?"
    "If I caused you trouble before, I'm sorry."
    He stared at her.
    "Not very much, of course - but just a little." Then she returned to her reflection.
    Sadi was trembling as he closed the door behind him. Sometime later, he sent for Issus. The shabby, one-eyed hireling entered the chief eunuch's study with a certain hesitancy, and his face was a bit apprehensive.
    "Come in, Issus," Sadi told him calmly.
    "I hope you aren't holding any grudges, Sadi," Issus said nervously, looking about to be sure they were alone. "There was nothing personal in it, you know."
    "It's all right, Issus," Sadi assured him. "You were only doing what you were paid to do."
    "How did you manage to detect it?" Issus asked with a certain professional curiosity. "Most men are too far gone for the antidote to work before they realize they've been poisoned."
    "Your concoction leaves just the faintest aftertaste of lemon," Sadi replied. "I've been trained to recognize it."
    "Ah," Issus said. "I'll have to work on that. Otherwise it's a very good poison."
    "An excellent poison, Issus," Sadi agreed. "That brings us to the reason I sent for you. There's a man I think I can dispense with."
    Issus' single eye brightened, and he rubbed his hands together. "The usual fee?"
    "Naturally."
    "Who is he?"
    "The Murgo ambassador."
    Issus' face clouded for a moment. "He'll be difficult to get to." He scratched at his stubbled scalp.
    "You'll find a way. I have the utmost confidence in you."
    "I'm the best," Issus agreed with no trace of false modesty.
    "The ambassador's pressing me in certain negotiations that I need to delay," Sadi continued. "His sudden demise should interrupt things a bit."
    "You don't really have to explain, Sadi," Issus told him. "I don't need to know why you want him killed."
    "But you do need to know how. For various reasons, I'd like for this to look very natural. Could you arrange for him-and perhaps a few others in his household-to come down with some kind of fever? Something suitably virulent?"
    Issus frowned. "That's tricky. Something like that can get out of hand. You might end up infecting an entire neighborhood, and there would be very few survivors."
    Sadi shrugged. "One sometimes must make sacrifices. Can you do it?"
    Issus nodded gravely.
    "Do it then, and I'll compose a letter expressing my regrets to King Taur Urgas."
    Queen Silar sat at her loom in the great hall of the Algar Stronghold, humming softly to herself as her fingers passed the shuttle back and forth with a drowsy, clicking sound. Sunlight streamed down from the narrow windows set high up in the wall, filling the huge, narrow room with a diffused golden light. King Cho-Hag and Hettar were away from the Stronghold, preparing a huge encampment some few leagues out from the base of the eastern escarpment for the army of Alorns, Arends, Sendars, and Tolnedrans approaching from the west. Although he was still within the borders of the kingdom, Cho-Hag had formally transferred authority to his wife, extracting a pledge of support from all of the assembled Clan-Chiefs.
    The Queen of Algaria was a silent woman, and her calm face seldom betrayed her emotions. She had spent her entire life in the background, often so unobtrusively that people did not even realize that she was present. She had, however, kept her eyes and her ears open. Her crippled husband, moreover, had confided in her. His quiet, dark-haired queen knew exactly what was going on.
    Elvar, Archpriest of Algaria, stood, white-robed and much puffed-up with his own importance, reading to her the set of carefully prepared proclamations which would effectively transfer all power to him. His tone was condescending as he explained them to her.
    "Is that all?" she asked when he had finished.
    "It's really for the best, your Highness," he told her loftily. "All the world knows that women are unsuited to rule. Shall I send for pen and ink?"
    "Not just yet, Elvar," she replied calmly, her hands busy at her loom.
    "But "
    "You know, I just had the oddest thought," she said, looking directly at him. "You're the Archpriest of Belar here in Algaria, but you never go out of the Stronghold. Isn't that a bit peculiar?"
    "My duties, your Highness, compell me-"
    "Isn't your first duty to the people - and to the children of Belar? We've been terribly selfish keeping you here