remember."
"And do you still want to take on the
role?"
Breaker hesitated, remembering his mother's
words, her hostile face. "I'm not sure," he said. "I don't want
to be a killer."
"Well, that's all right, then," the
wizard said. "We don't want you running off and putting a blade through
the Wizard Lord on a whim; killing a man is serious business, killing a wizard
even more so, killing the Wizard Lord most of all. We want a swordsman who is
reluctant to act, who will give even the darkest Lord a fair chance to depart
in peace—but who is ready to do what is necessary if the Lord will not
yield."
Breaker blinked at her. "Depart in
peace?" he said. "Is that possible?"
"Certainly!" She smiled at him, and
he noticed a tooth was missing on one side. "As long as a corrupt Wizard
Lord is removed from power, why would anyone care how? In all the centuries of
the Wizard Lords' rule, there have been five slain by the Chosen—and three who
left of their own free will rather than face the Chosen, giving their talismans
and oaths over to the Council of Immortals and allowing a new Wizard Lord to
take power."
Breaker gazed
silently at her for a long moment, then said, "I'm sorry; I thought I
understood the system and knew about the Dark Lords, but it seems I was
mistaken. Eight Dark Lords? I had only heard of four, I think. And
who or what is the Council of Immortals? I heard it mentioned last night, but I
admit I don't know what it is." He grimaced. " I begin to think I
was far too hasty in saying I might want to be one of the Chosen."
The smile vanished, and the wizard sighed.
"There is a great deal of history
involved," she said. "And far too many complicated rules have
accumulated. It all started out very simple, but of course it couldn't stay simple."
"But why not?"
"Because it's done by people," the
wizard said. "We can never leave anything alone; we always meddle, and
adjust, and repair." She straightened in her chair. "So then,
Breaker," she said, "what do you know of the Wizard Lords, and the Chosen
Heroes?"
Breaker hesitated. He had heard the stories
as a child, but told in childish terms, and he did not want to sound childish
to this woman. She seemed to be treating him as an adult, and he did not want
to lose that respect. He would tell the story as he remembered it, but not
necessarily in the same words.
"More than six hundred
years ago," he began, "a group of wizards decided that Barokan would
be a happier land if a single person ruled it all, from the Eastern Cliffs to
the Western Isles, to put an end to destructive disputes between
wizards—wicked wizards and magical duels had laid waste to large areas and
killed many innocent people, and everyone agreed it had to be stopped, and
these wiza rds
thought that setting up a single ruler was the best way to stop it. They chose
one of their number to be this ruler, the first Wizard Lord, and bestowed upon
him much of their combined magic, binding to him the most powerful ler known to humanity, including mastery of the skies and wind.
"With so much magic at
his disposal none could stand against the Wizard Lord, and he brought peace to
all the lands from cliffs to sea, and reigned well for many years. He hunted
down and slew any wizard who preyed on the innocent, and arbitrated disputes to
prevent magical duels. In time he grew old and tired, and he gave up his power
and withdrew from the world, and named another wizard his successor as Wizard
Lord. He, too, reigned long and well before going peacefully into retirement.
"But the third Wizard
Lord, although he had feigned otherwise, had an evil heart, and once he was in
power he began to kill his enemies and to steal whatever he saw that caught his
fancy, and to hunt down and slaughter all other wiza rds so that they
could not threaten his rule, rather than just the few who made trouble. But a
few of the surviving wizards, although they could not face the Wizard Lord's
overwhelming magic directly, devised a scheme