The Warden

Chapter 36

At first Master Elwith just stood and stared at Kyla and Masis.

Compared to his clean shaven, well-pressed appearance, their dirty, unkempt appearance was all the more severe. He smelled of exotic spices, cloyingly spicy in the nostrils. In contrast, they stunk of loam and underbrush.

A placid, high-tempered surface manifested on Master Elwith's lifelight, sheer like fabric stretched and kept taut, undulating between placid blues and excited oranges. Kyla was quite impressed at the control that Master Elwith exhibited. A dark splotch roamed into Kyla's Sight, floating over the mage's lifelight, an unexpected gaping soulwound. So dark the dimensions of the spot, Kyla's keen mindeye could not penetrate its depth. Something about its yawning emptiness churned her stomach.

"Are you just going to stare at us?" asked Kyla. "Or are we going to get on with it?"

A corner of Master Elwith's mouth quirked, not with annoyance or even amusement but rather curiosity, the kind of curiosity one would show when dealing with a stray animal, dirty from neglect, thin from malnutrition—a curiosity, not filled with malice or ill-intent, simply a morbid register and ultimate disregard of what stood right in front of him.

Kyla bristled at the scrutiny. What are you waiting for?!

"Aren't you rushing a bit, Lady Kyla," said Master Elwith, wagging a finger. "If you are indeed Lady Kyla Gaudin."

Kyla's mouth began to slacken loaded with expletives, before she clenched it with tight efficiency. Politics. Only the lunatic, tyrannical, or simple minded would ever become involved in politics.

"How would I have gotten in here if I wasn't Lady Kyla?" she asked, voice strained. "I knew the passphrases that I agreed on with the head mage all those centuries ago."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" asked Master Elwith, picking at his nails. "Something else that you two agreed on. Something that has been passed down from High Mage to High Mage ever since that time."

"Are you really going to insist on this?" she asked, cocking a hip like an irritated parent.

"I'm afraid I must," said Master Elwith, eyes wide with mocking innocence. His mouth twitched, fighting a smile. "How else will I know for certain that you are really who you say you are? So, if you wouldn't mind, please, give me the last passphrase."

"Oh, very well," huffed Kyla. She took a breath then blew it out. "I am Lady Kyla. My father was half-lit, my mother was a whore. They met one night upon the ocean shore..."

Snickering from Master Elwith cut Kyla's words off. It escalated into chuckles and then exploded into bursts of laughter. Arms held at his middle, eyes screwed shut, Master Elwith's mouth gaped open, pouring out the half-strangled sound.

Both Masis and Kyla stood exchanging glances, nonplussed. Even the acolyte fidgeted by the door, as the master of his order, twittered away like a madman.

I thought I had my work cut out for me when I found Masis, thought Kyla.

The idea of slapping the near hysterical man flashed into her mind, which she swatted away quickly enough. She simply kept her spot, unmoving, her face void of amusement. Masis kept flicking his eyes between her and Master Elwith, his face a confusion of emotions. They both waited for the waves of levity to subside.

Forcing his eyes open, his face still squinted with humor, Master Elwith held a hand up as his antics quieted. His laughter trickled away faster than it had begun. Coughing a few times, a hand covering his mouth, he cleared his throat. Checking himself over—his thinning hair, robes, and face—Master Elwith straightened his back into his previously exact posture. A few more bubbles of laughter popped from his mouth, and he pressed his long, callus-free fingers into the corners of his eyes as though to dislodge the last remnants of levity that might have hidden there. He flicked what he found away.