TALTHOS

Mordigan's face grew hot. He took a deep breath and drew himself up proudly. "I came, as I was told to do, to seek Talthos. I did not come for charity, though I do not disdain work. I see, however, that it would waste both our time to continue." He turned to leave the courtyard, furious with himself for being so stupid as to hope there might be a chance of success in his mission.

A quiet voice spoke from the shadows of the interior. "Wait, boy. I will deem for myself what wastes my time."

A second figure stepped forward out of the darkness, laying an affectionate hand on the old man's shoulder in passing. "It is all right, Bariman, my friend. I will speak with the boy."

Digan gulped and snatched off his cap. He endeavored to stand straighter, very conscious of his worn velvet and rumpled silk as the immaculate wizard studied him gravely; his gray eyes cool and shadowed. Digan returned Talthos' stare, regarding the magic-user squarely in turn. The wizard looked down at him, an odd sensation for the tall boy. Talthos' hair was a true burnished silver rather than mere gray, but there were few other signs of age in the thin, scholarly face, although Digan knew he had once been court wizard to Vasileios' father. His shoulders stooped a little, as if rounded by study, but his elegant hands had the hard look of use about them.

"What is your name, boy?" asked the servant Bariman in an officious tone, leafing through the pages of a large a notebook he pulled from somewhere beneath his voluminous robes. He stood, quill poised above a page, one foot tapping an impatient cadence.

"My name is Mordigan Bryre-"

Talthos' eyes darkened, and he fell back a step before recovering himself. "Why have you come here, boy?" he murmured in a hoarse whisper, the words barely audible.

"I was told you-never mind," Digan sighed, turning to leave. "It was foolish to come. I don't know what I thought."

The wizard reached out as if to touch him, then drew back his hand. "What were you told, Mordigan Bryre? And by whom?"

"I was told that the lute you made for my master-for Cormeyer Stareyes-as a royal bequest was magical, and that you might be persuaded to craft me such an instrument of my own. As to who sent me, I-I cannot say. I gave my word."

The wizard's eyes narrowed. "I can guess who would send you here, to me. I sense Freitanya's hand behind this game."

Digan feigned nonchalance. "I've never met the lady-" he began, but his throat shut upon the lie, and he could not continue.

"Indeed." The wizard turned, beckoning Digan to follow. "I will consider your request, Mordigan Bryre, but a question comes to mind. What will you give me for this lute you seek?"