refills, please get them now.”
All three of them got to their feet as he did, so Kambil led the way to the tea service. He also decided that at the next meeting he would bring along one of his controlled servants, so that there would be no need for them to serve themselves while they talked. He and the others were too important for such menial tasks, and it was time that everyone understood that. It was also time for another public audience, and that should be held as soon as possible. After that, news from the west might start coming in, and if it came at an inconvenient time they would have to be unavailable.
A pity, Kambil thought as he stepped aside to let his followers get tea of their own. He did so love public audiences, with everyone bowing and scraping to show who their superiors were. He’d have to make a short list of invitees to the next audience, so that the proper people were seen bowing and scraping. Those he meant to invite would never live down the humiliation of having to show public deference to people they’d once disdained, which would make the whole thing even more marvelous…
CHAPTER FIVE
Delin Moord ran his hands over the arms of the chair he sat in, luxuriating in the silken feel of the fabric. His body also reveled in being held firmly but comfortably, his back no longer aching and his leg muscles no longer stiff from an incorrect height in the chair legs. He allowed himself to sit in that chair only five minutes each day, but he savored those five minutes as much as he’d savored the one decent meal he’d had since Kambil had enslaved him. And he was fairly certain that no one suspected he’d had that one decent meal…
His five minutes being up, Delin rose from the chair and returned to the hard wooden one which had been moved into that tiny sitting room in his wing of the palace. His groupmates still believed that that chair was the only one he could use, just as he was forbidden decent food and a comfortable place to sleep, not to mention use of any other room in the wing. They thought they were punishing him for what they chose to call his insanity, but it wasn’t he who was insane—or duped. Kambil was behind it all, Kambil and his Spirit magic having taken over the minds of their other groupmates, making them more slavelike than he’d been able to do with Delin.
“He wasn’t able to break my will, so he called me insane and enslaved me with drugs,” Delin muttered, letting his hatred of that wooden chair and his condition in general take over his outer thoughts again. “He still believes I’m helpless and can therefore be dismissed from consideration, but he forgets that I’ve had experience with this sort of thing before.”
A small smile curved Delin’s lips, the only outward sign of how pleased he was. Did Kambil know that Delin’s father had also had Spirit magic? The elder Moord hadn’t been nearly as strong as Kambil, but he’d had enough strength that Delin had had to learn how to think out of sight of the man’s talent at a very early age. That was why he’d developed that … separate inner self, the one which Kambil hadn’t been able to penetrate to. It had let him use that foolish female servant to escape, without anyone else knowing that he was free.
Delin’s smile widened very briefly at the memory of that female servant. After she’d freed him she’d gone and gotten him that one decent meal he’d allowed himself, and then she’d stood there beaming as she watched him swallow it down almost in a single gulp. When he’d finished every last crumb he’d sent her back with the tray, asking her to tell the cook and the other servants that Delin had refused the meal so she’d eaten it herself to keep it from going to waste. He’d followed carefully behind her, and once she’d made that announcement he’d caused her to have a fatal heart attack. The other servants had fluttered and clustered about, not knowing what to do, not knowing
All three of them got to their feet as he did, so Kambil led the way to the tea service. He also decided that at the next meeting he would bring along one of his controlled servants, so that there would be no need for them to serve themselves while they talked. He and the others were too important for such menial tasks, and it was time that everyone understood that. It was also time for another public audience, and that should be held as soon as possible. After that, news from the west might start coming in, and if it came at an inconvenient time they would have to be unavailable.
A pity, Kambil thought as he stepped aside to let his followers get tea of their own. He did so love public audiences, with everyone bowing and scraping to show who their superiors were. He’d have to make a short list of invitees to the next audience, so that the proper people were seen bowing and scraping. Those he meant to invite would never live down the humiliation of having to show public deference to people they’d once disdained, which would make the whole thing even more marvelous…
CHAPTER FIVE
Delin Moord ran his hands over the arms of the chair he sat in, luxuriating in the silken feel of the fabric. His body also reveled in being held firmly but comfortably, his back no longer aching and his leg muscles no longer stiff from an incorrect height in the chair legs. He allowed himself to sit in that chair only five minutes each day, but he savored those five minutes as much as he’d savored the one decent meal he’d had since Kambil had enslaved him. And he was fairly certain that no one suspected he’d had that one decent meal…
His five minutes being up, Delin rose from the chair and returned to the hard wooden one which had been moved into that tiny sitting room in his wing of the palace. His groupmates still believed that that chair was the only one he could use, just as he was forbidden decent food and a comfortable place to sleep, not to mention use of any other room in the wing. They thought they were punishing him for what they chose to call his insanity, but it wasn’t he who was insane—or duped. Kambil was behind it all, Kambil and his Spirit magic having taken over the minds of their other groupmates, making them more slavelike than he’d been able to do with Delin.
“He wasn’t able to break my will, so he called me insane and enslaved me with drugs,” Delin muttered, letting his hatred of that wooden chair and his condition in general take over his outer thoughts again. “He still believes I’m helpless and can therefore be dismissed from consideration, but he forgets that I’ve had experience with this sort of thing before.”
A small smile curved Delin’s lips, the only outward sign of how pleased he was. Did Kambil know that Delin’s father had also had Spirit magic? The elder Moord hadn’t been nearly as strong as Kambil, but he’d had enough strength that Delin had had to learn how to think out of sight of the man’s talent at a very early age. That was why he’d developed that … separate inner self, the one which Kambil hadn’t been able to penetrate to. It had let him use that foolish female servant to escape, without anyone else knowing that he was free.
Delin’s smile widened very briefly at the memory of that female servant. After she’d freed him she’d gone and gotten him that one decent meal he’d allowed himself, and then she’d stood there beaming as she watched him swallow it down almost in a single gulp. When he’d finished every last crumb he’d sent her back with the tray, asking her to tell the cook and the other servants that Delin had refused the meal so she’d eaten it herself to keep it from going to waste. He’d followed carefully behind her, and once she’d made that announcement he’d caused her to have a fatal heart attack. The other servants had fluttered and clustered about, not knowing what to do, not knowing
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