But first things first. She must concentrate on the task at hand, the manipulation of Gerand Cera. She glanced around the rotunda, their appointed meeting place. There was no sign of him.
“I am here, Shadea,” he said from the shadows behind her.
She turned with a start. Tall and menacing in his black robes, he was standing just inside the same hallway she had come down. He must have followed her all the way to their meeting place, and she had not heard him do so. It was a clear demonstration of his skill, given so that she would not mistake his coming as an indication of weakness. It was typical of him; he had survived over the years by making certain no one ever misjudged what he was capable of doing.
“Gerand Cera,” she greeted him, holding her ground.
He came up to her, lean and hatchet-faced, his nose and cheekbones narrow and chiseled, his mouth a thin line of disapproval. His expression was unreadable, as if his mind had emptied of thought and his heart of emotion. He was a formidable opponent, and there were few at Paranor who would dare to challenge him.
“Are we alone?” he asked.
He would already know the answer to that question, she thought. He only wanted to let her think he trusted her not to lie to him. “Of course. What I have to say to you is not meant for other ears.”
“I didn’t think so.” He glanced around, as if come for the first time to a new place. “No one is likely to pass down these corridors, I suspect. Nevertheless, we are too much exposed to suit my taste. We should not be seen meeting like this, even by accident.”
She nodded. “Come this way.”
She led him into another of the passageways and from there into an unmanned guardroom fronting the outer wall.
“Here?” she asked. He nodded, and she closed the door behind them. “This should serve our needs.”
He walked over to a bench set against the far wall and sat down. “Let me save you some time and effort, Shadea. You have summoned me because you require my help. Your own allies seem to be disappearing rather more rapidly than I think you anticipated in the wake of what’s happened. Some won’t be returning, I suspect. You are Ard Rhys in name, but your grip on the title is tenuous. Allies are necessary. I would be the one whose support you covet most. Am I right?”
She was angered by his presumptions, but kept her feelings in check. He was right, of course. That was one of his strengths—the ability to analyze a situation quickly and accurately. “Your support would be welcome,” she acknowledged.
His sharp features tightened. “Why should I give it to you?”
“I could suggest the obvious—that it would be safer for you to have me as a friend than an enemy.”
His smile was bitter. “You could never be a friend to me, Shadea. You could never be a friend to anyone you viewed as a potential rival. I accept that. I don’t want you as a friend, in any case. As well, I don’t want you as an enemy. Your successful elimination of Grianne Ohmsford demonstrates sufficient reason for that. Such an impressive piece of work. So unexpected. No one knows how you did it. Gone almost as if she never existed. Care to explain how you managed it?”