the wizard's twin. Only when words were spoken did it become clear that, unlike the councilor of the
Kirin Tor, this figure was definitely male.
“I do not know why I've even come,” he commented to Krasus.
“Because you had to. You needed to.”
The other let loose with an audible hiss. “True, but now that I'm here, I can choose to leave any time I
desire.”
Krasus raised a slim, gloved hand. “At least hear me out.”
“For what reason? So that you can repeat what you have repeated so many times before?”
“So that for once what I am saying might actually register!” Krasus's unexpected vehemence startled
both.
His companion shook his head. “You've been around them much too long. Your shields, both magical
and personal, are beginning to break down. It's time you abandoned this hopeless task . . . just as we
did.”
“I do not believe it hopeless.” For the first time, a hint of gender, a voice far deeper than any of the other
members of the Kirin Tor's inner circle would have believed possible. “I cannot, so long as she is held.”
“What she means to you is understandable, Korialstrasz; what she means to us is that of the memory of
a time past.”
“If that time is past, then why do you and yours still stand your posts?” Krasus calmly retorted, his
emotions once more under control.
“Because we would see our final years calm ones, peaceful ones. . . .”
“All the more reason to join with me in this.”
Again the other hissed. “Korialstrasz, will you never give in to the inevitable? Your plan does not
surprise us, who know you so well! We've seen your little puppet on his fruitless quest—do you think he
can possibly accomplish his task?”
Krasus paused for a moment before replying. “He has the potential . . . but he is not all I have. No, I
think he will fail. In doing so, however, I hope that his sacrifice will aid in my final success . . . and if you
would join with me, that success would be more likely.”
“I was right.” Krasus's companion sounded immensely disappointed. “The same rhetoric. The same
pleading. I only came because of the alliance, once strong, between our two factions, but clearly I should
not have even bothered because of that. You are without backing, without force. There is only you now,
and you must hide in the shadows—” he gestured at the mists surrounding them “—in places such as this,
rather than show your true nature.”
“I do what I must. . . . What is it that you do, anymore?” An edge once more arose in Krasus's voice.
“What purpose do you exist for, my old friend?”
The other figure started at this penetrating question, then abruptly turned away. He took a few steps
toward the embracing mists, then paused and looked back at the wizard. Krasus's companion sounded
resigned. “I wish you the very best on this, Korialstrasz; I really do. I—we— just don't believe that there
can be any return to the past. Those days are done, and we with them.”
“That is your choice, then.” They almost parted company, but Krasus suddenly called out. “One request,
though, before you return to the others.”
“And what is that?”
The mage's entire form seemed to darken, and a hiss escaped him. “Do not ever call me by that name
again.Ever.It must not be spoken, even here.”
“No one could possibly—”
“Even here.”
Something in Krasus's tone made his companion nod. The second figure then hurriedly departed,
vanishing into the emptiness.
The wizard stared at the place where the other had stood, thinking of the repercussions of this futile
conversation. If only they could have seen sense! Together, they had hope. Divided, they could do little .
. . and that would play into their foe's hands.
“Fools . . .”Krasus muttered.“Abysmal fools . . .”
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