“Indeed,” Bran replied, a trifle incredulously. “Perhaps you would care to be more specific. I can think of a number of things you might do for me, or for any other man you chose to favor. But damn me if I can think of a single thing I have that you could want.”

“Must I want something?” Smiling faintly, Wencit made a bridge of his fingers and studied his guest through shrewd fox-eyes. Bran, for his part, sat back in his chair and returned Wencit’s gaze unflinchingly, a gloved right hand resting patiently under his chin, silent. After a moment, Wencit nodded.

“Very good. You know how to wait. I admire that in a man, especially a human.” He studied Bran for several seconds more, then continued.

“Very well, Bran Coris Earl of Marley. You are correct, in a way; I do want something from you. I shall exert no undue coercion to bend you to my will; I do not coerce those with whom I hope to be friends. On the other hand, you could expect to be handsomely compensated for any cooperation that you might render. Tell me: what do you think of my new city?”

“I care little for your use of the possessive,” Bran observed dryly. “The city belongs to King Kelson, despite its current occupation. Come to the point.”

“Now, don’t belie my first impression,” the sorcerer chided. “I have my reasons for progressing slowly. And I shall disregard your quip regarding my city. Local politics do not interest me at the moment. I am thinking in far broader terms.”

“So I have been informed,” Bran replied. “However, if you contemplate further expansion to the west, I would suggest that you reconsider. Granted, my small army could not resist you for long. But the loss of life would be high on your side as well. The men of Marley do not sell their lives cheaply.”

“Hold your tongue!” Wencit snapped. “If I wished, I could crush you and your army like insects, and you know it!” He reached out to touch his finger to each of the points of the coronet in turn, watching Bran like a cat as he tempered his next words. “But fighting with your army was not what I had in mind—at least not in the sense you are thinking. Alongside, more like. Actually, I had it in mind to move a little south of you, into Corwyn and Carthmoor and then the rest of Gwynedd. I thought you might be interested in…oh, the northern regions: Claibourne and the Kheldish Riding, for a start. There are ways I could help you accomplish this.”

“You would have me turn against my allies?” Bran shook his head. “I think it unlikely, sir. Besides, why should you wish to give an enemy two of the richest provinces in the Eleven Kingdoms? It makes me wonder what I am not being told about your little plan.”

“Ah, but I do not count you as my enemy,” Wencit replied. “For the present, let us merely say that I have been watching your progress for some time, and that I believe it might be…reassuring to have a man of your caliber holding the northern-most provinces. Of course, there would be a dukedom in it for you, as well as other…considerations.”