The Wizard of Anharitte Read Free Page A

drop a dozen men with a single charge.
    ‘You there! Girl—come here.’ Vestevaal was approaching Zinder, calling imperiously. She turned her head and waited for him, her face composed, as if the meeting were an event not unexpected.
    The director stopped suddenly as he realized she intended that he must be the one to walk the intervening distance if he wished to speak with her. She plainly did not propose to come to him.
    ‘I said come,’ said Vestevaal, knowing the delicate dictates of slave etiquette.
    She looked him up and down with shrewd appraisal, then turned back to the merchant at whose stall she was and continued her transaction. The director sensed that all eyes were upon him and wondered how he would resolve the offered slight. It was unthinkable for any slave other than Zinder to have disobeyed a public command from a man so obviously a prominent outworlder. Vestevaal realized that he had trapped himself into an open contest of wills. He could not afford to let the’ matter pass.
    He strode angrily across the remaining distance and caught hold of her left wrist, on which the slave mark was indelibly written, At close quarters she was attractive rather than beautiful in the classic sense. Her dark hair framed a strong face, which displayed an unassailable character. But more impressive was the rich by-play of emotions continuously monitored in her eyes.
    ‘I thought so—the House of Magda.’ Vestevaal was emphasizing the aspect of bondage, trying to draw a reaction. ‘Your master will be hearing from me. You’re the one they call Zinder, aren’t you?’
    ‘But of course, Director Vestevaal. But then you knew that before you came across here. Indeed, I am the reason you came.’ Her voice was clear and melodious, modulated with a subtle artistry. Her speech was perfectly articulated Terran in which the attractive lilt of the native Ahhn accent had been carefully preserved. ‘But I’m glad you did come. Peering from behind a curtain is rather undignified for a man of your standing with the Free Trade Council.’
    ‘Damn!’ said Vestevaal, knowing that he was now the center of an attentive audience. ‘You take much on yourself, girl. Not only do you open wounds, but you also apply salt.’
    ‘Salt? Only to the wounds of enemies,’ she answered easily. ‘Among friends salt is for sharing at table. If I’ve offered salt, Director, it’s you who have chosen how to use it.’
    In her deep eyes was no fear or displeasure, only an engaging challenge. Behind the eyes were limitless funds of resourcefulness. Though her lips were smiling slightly, they showed neither insolence nor arrogance. She was meeting him on an equal level and both of them knew it. What had started as a deliberate confrontation had ended in a rout for Vestevaal. His wry smile of admiration turned into a great gust of laughter and he reached this time for her right hand and kissed it.
    ‘As you so rightly said, Zinder, it was I who chose how to use the salt. But whereas a man can mostly chose his friends, circumstances choose his enemies for him. There are times when one could wish the reverse. Please present my compliments to the Imaiz —and tell him that if ever he wishes to dispose of your bond he will find myself an eager purchaser.’
    ‘I will convey your words to Dion-daizan, I’m sure he’ll be both amused and flattered.’
    ‘And also tell him that I mean to stop him by every means at my disposal.’
    ‘That isn’t news, Director Vestevaal. Had he not been convinced of it he would not have bothered sending me here today.’
    ‘He anticipated this meeting?’
    ‘The chance of this or something like it was highly probable. He felt it only fair you should know the character of the opposition.’
    ‘He could scarcely have made the point more strongly.’
    ‘What else would you expect of the wizard of Anharitte?’
    She bowed respectfully and moved away like a colorful flower among the stalls, the barest hint of