Changing Of The Guard (Book 6) by Ron Collins Page B

the hillside. He had sensed Lectodinians often over the past two days, so this was not surprising. It was good, after all. It was why they had decided to travel so openly, hoping their transparency would draw this very opportunity to parley.
    “What are you doing here?” the leader said.
    Hirl-enat stood, brushed what wrinkles he could out of his robes, and stepped down.
    Fil followed.
    “We wish to speak to your Lord Superior,” Hirl-enat said.
    “I am sure he is occupied.”
    “I believe he will be unoccupied when you tell him we are interested in discussing a merger.”
    The mage gave a perceptible pause.
    “Go ahead and contact him,” Hirl-enat said. “We will wait.”
    Fil observed everything, storing it away.
    He noticed how Hirl-enat’s eyes danced with humor at the Lectodinian’s reaction to the idea the Koradictines might surrender, and he noted the way the Lectodinian’s hands shook with more than the cold of winter as he entered his communication spell.
    Fil was impressed with Hirl-enat’s composure. His was the key role in this charade. He had to sell the decoy, had to be believed when he promised Koradictine service to the Lectodinian agenda. Neuma’s plan was a good one if Hirl-enat could do this part. Without a quiet span over the winter months, the Koradictine order may well be destroyed, so it was imperative his tone be convincing. And, so far, he had played the part to perfection.
    “Lord Esta will see you,” the mage finally replied. “We will escort you from this point.”
    Hirl-enat tipped his head. “Excellent.”

    They were led into the Lectodinian stronghold through a set of passages cut into the cold, sheer cliffs of the Vapor Peaks. The passes reminded Fil of those his own order had dug into the volcanic realms of de’Mayer Island and the Canyons of Badwall. As they progressed, he felt the complex weave of spell work behind the Lectodinian security systems. From the occasional glances he received from Hirl-enat he was certain the elder felt them also.
    That was good.
    They didn’t need anything to go awry here, and if Hirl-enat sensed the spell-cover, perhaps he would be even more cautious.
    The Lectodinians brought them to a social chamber that was small and blessedly warm thanks to a fire that burned brightly from a hearth built into one wall.
    Fil and Hirl-enat were seated. A ring of Lectodinian wizards stood around the perimeter, waiting. The span was long enough that Fil considered the idea that perhaps they had been brought to an ambush chamber. Then sounds of disturbance came from the hallways, and Zutrian Esta, High Superior of the Lectodinian order, entered.
    The lord said nothing, merely paused, took them in, and then took the padded chair beside the fire. Once he sat, a pair of the wait staff brought a small table of simple carpentry and placed it between Zutrian and the Koradictines, another brought goblets of warmed wine. Zutrian took a goblet, and still without speaking motioned Hirl-enat and Fil to help themselves.
    Fil was tired, and he was hungry, and, despite the warmth of the room—or perhaps because of it—he was feeling the effects of the winter roads. It was all he could do to stop himself from bolting down the wine.
    “I don’t see the value,” Zutrian finally said.
    “You don’t see the value in joining our two great orders?”
    “The Koradictines ceased to be a great order when Garrick cut your ranks at God’s Tower, and what he wasn’t able to finish, internal squabbling and civil unrest in the western plane has managed to complete for him.”
    “It is true we are weakened,” Hirl-enat said with more calm than Fil had expected. “But the Koradictine order has roots that run deep. We are far from defenseless, and far from powerless. If you will not bond with us, we can cause you great pain.”
    “Roots that run deep,” Zutrian mused. “Yes. Like weeds, you are.”
    “Aptly described,” Hirl-enat replied. “Much, I would guess, as the