The Fires of Heaven Read Online Free Page A

Rahvin smiled as the woman standing before the fireplace repeated what he had told her. There was a slight glaze in her large, brown eyes. A young, pretty woman, even in the plain gray woolens she had adopted for disguise, but that was not what interested him about her.
    No breath of air stirred through the room’s tall windows. Sweat rolled down the woman’s face as she spoke, and beaded on the narrow face of the other man present. For all of that man’s fine red silk coat with its golden embroidery, he stood as stiffly as a servant, which he was in a way, if of his own free will, unlike the woman. Of course, he was deaf and blind for the moment.
    Rahvin handled the flows of Spirit he had woven around the pair delicately. There was no need to damage valuable servants.
    He did not sweat, of course. He did not let the summer’s lingering heat touch him. He was a tall man, large, dark and handsome despite the white streaking his temples. Compulsion had presented no difficulties with this woman.
    A scowl twisted his face. It did with some. A few—a very few—had astrength of self so firm that their minds searched, even if unaware, for crevices through which to slide away. It was his bad luck that he still had some small need for one such. She could be handled, but she kept trying to find escape without knowing she was trapped. Eventually that one would no longer be needed, of course; he would have to decide whether to send her on her way or be rid of her more permanently. Dangers lay either way. Nothing that could threaten him, of course, but he was a careful man, meticulous. Small dangers had a way of growing if ignored, and he always chose his risks with a measure of prudence. To kill her, or keep her?
    The cessation of the woman’s speech pulled him from his reverie. “When you leave here,” he told her, “you will remember nothing of this visit. You will remember only taking your usual morning walk.” She nodded, eager to please him, and he tied off the strands of Spirit lightly, so they would evaporate from her mind shortly after she reached the street. Repeated use of compulsion made obedience easier even when it was not in use, but while it was, there was always a danger it might be detected.
    That done, he released Elegar’s mind as well. Lord Elegar. A minor noble, but faithful to his vows. He licked his thin lips nervously and glanced at the woman, then went immediately to one knee before Rahvin. Friends of the Dark—Darkfriends they were called, now—had begun learning just how strictly they would be kept to their vows now that Rahvin and the others were freed.
    “Take her to the street by back ways,” Rahvin said, “and leave her there. She is not to be seen.”
    “It will be as you say, Great Master,” Elegar said, bowing where he knelt. Rising, he backed from Rahvin’s presence, bowing and pulling the woman along by one arm. She went docilely, of course, her eyes still fogged. Elegar would ask her no questions. He knew enough to be well aware that there were things he did not want to know.
    “One of your play pretties?” a woman’s voice said behind him as the carved door closed. “Have you taken to dressing them like that?”
    Snatching at
saidin,
he filled himself with the Power, the taint on the male half of the True Source rolling off the protection of his bonds and oaths, the ties to what he knew as a greater power than the Light, or even the Creator.
    In the middle of the chamber a gateway stood above the red-and-gold carpet, an opening to somewhere else. He had a brief view of a chamber lined with snowy silken hangings before it vanished, leaving a woman, clad in white and belted in woven silver. The slight tingle in his skin, likea faint chill, was all that told him she had channeled. Tall and slender, she was as beautiful as he was handsome, her dark eyes bottomless pools, her hair, decorated with silver stars and crescents, falling in perfect black waves to her shoulders. Most men