Centyr Dominance by Michael G. Manning Page B

here react badly when they discover that fact.”
    “Can you see my thoughts? Are you reading my mind
     now?”
    Moira almost winced, but she suppressed her reaction,
     “I would have to touch you to do something like that, but I can speak mind to
     mind with other wizards, or with someone with whom I have a special bond.” She
     didn’t bother explaining the fact that mages could sense emotions without
     direct contact, or the fact that her own senses could reveal far more about
     someone than even most mages realized. For the most part her answer was truth;
     she couldn’t actually read his overt thoughts.
    “Your father is the Blood-Lord isn’t he?” asked the
     Baron directly.
    She ground her teeth, “I really dislike that
     term. My father is the kindest man you could ever hope to meet. He’s done
     nothing but sacrifice and suffer for the people of our realm. Anything you’ve
     heard to the contrary is a damn lie.”
    “Did he really face the gods themselves?” Gerold’s
     voice was a whisper now, as if he feared someone hearing the question might
     suspect him of heresy.
    “They weren’t gods, merely supernatural creations
     given power by men of old, and yes, he did in fact face them,” she answered.
     “None of this helps me. I need to see this Earl and find out if he knows
     anything about my father’s disappearance.”
    The Baron caught himself for a moment then, before
     lowering his head in a gesture of contrition, “I am sorry. Realizing your
     identity has made me rude. You must understand that magic is distrusted here.
     We count ourselves as faithful devotees of Celior.”
    “What will you do then?” challenged Moira. “Run out
     and summon a mob to hunt me down? I am only here to find my father.”
    “No,” he said after a moment. “I think you too
     beautiful for that, though it may damn me. Besides, you don’t fear a mob do
     you?”
    “No.”
    “What would you do?” he asked curiously. “I won’t do
     it of course, but I find myself unable to help wondering. Would you fight them
     off? Could you hurl fire at them?”
    “I would just leave. There’s no need to hurt anyone.
     I can defend myself from most attacks,” she insisted. “Why do men always think
     of violence first?”
    “What of your companions?”
    Moira laughed a little at that. “I would restrain
     them. To protect your people—of course.”
    “They are wizards too?”
    “No,” she said, waving her hands. “The younger one is
     the son of Dorian Thornbear, and the older one is just a grumpy old man,
     although he’s fought in many battles. He’s probably killed more people than
     any ten men you’ve ever met—combined.”
    “That those two are your only companions leads me to
     believe you didn’t plan to find your father through diplomatic entreaties,”
     commented Gerold. “You might find more help than you suspect, if you enlist
     the King’s aid.”
    Moira pursed her lips, “I don’t think your king would
     take kindly to accusations that one of his vassals had kidnapped my father.
     Besides, I thought your people distrusted wizards.”
    “Wizards yes,” agreed the Baron, “but an ambassador
     from Lothion is a different matter. Allow me to present you to the King.
     Greet him openly, and then make your needs known in private. He is a wise man,
     and a fair one. He will appreciate your discretion, and given the Earl of
     Berlagen’s odd behavior of late, I have no doubt that he will be open to
     helping you discover the truth of the matter.”
    “I’m not actually an ambassador,” Moira informed him,
     “I came here on my own.”
    “Aren’t you related to Queen Ariadne?”
    “She’s a cousin, yes,” answered Moira. My first
     cousin, twice removed, she noted mentally, though we aren’t actually
     related by blood.
    “That’s enough,” said Gerold. “Present yourself as an
     informal representative. King Darogen is an intelligent man. He will
     understand your