Valdark sat imperiously behind the throne, appearing to watch the final death throes of Chanceleord and the other man who died with him. More interesting to him now were the reactions and feelings of the audience in this public amphitheatre of the Council Hall. The terror of the other captives who were forced to watch, who perceived now that there would be an end to their own souls, which might probably be just as horrible as these two. He scanned their minds for his own pleasure more than for any knowledge he might require. He enjoyed the sensations he could read. He also scanned some of his own people, finding a variety of emotions within their skulls, ranging from revenge and satisfaction to distaste and quiet disapproval.
He was reminded of the conversation he had earlier with the sorcerer Aribor. What would his reactions to the suffering of Chanceleord now be? Aribor had admitted to not wishing the merchant to die now. Valdark still suspected some connection between that man close to expiring and the appreciation of beauty which Valdark had read in him. He searched into the wizard's mind, a common spell first, as he had done with the other minds he perused in this hall. There was indeed a strong distaste that this man should die. Searching now with more difficult spells he found there was a clear connection with the sense of beauty he had seen earlier in the sorceror's mind. Aribor had not wanted the merchant to die. He displayed a really strong will for him not to die, but the wizard had accepted that the merchant would die. He had probably observed too many such executions than to be upset by the death. He knew it was inevitable. There was equanimity and little emotion in the sorceror's mind for the merchant, as Valdark might have expected of a sorcerer who had drawn dark magic from as many victims as Aribor had.
Valdark conjured a stronger revealing spell and plunged back into Aribor's mind. As would be the case in all wizards there were automatic screens which obstructed his view, but Valdark found ways around them, searching deep. He was after the sense of beauty which he had found so strong in the sorcerer earlier, which had surprised him so much. Aribor had long had a fascination for the female sex, which Valdark had noted in the past. Some warriors loved to slaughter and take revenge, and others were motivated by rape, or pillage, or the promotion of their King or masters. Aribor was one who was rewarded for his work by the freedom to search for sexual pleasure. Valdark liked to understand what motivated his brethren, the sorcerors and the warriors; that made him better able to serve his master and Grumandria. Aribor was a good servant and Valdark appreciated that the sorcerer deserved his reward. But this sense of attraction towards something beautiful and precious was unusual, something far more than normal.
Valdark entered the part of the brain from where the beauty appeared to emanate. A wave of excitement met him, images of naked flesh, the open cunt of a woman, pretty and tight, drawing him to her, flasahes of facial beauty, a serene sculpture with dark eyes and hair, a beautiful shaped nose and pretty mouth. The image was of perfection and strong. He saw the fascinating woman naked, and, through the mind of Aribor, indescribably beautiful.
'Who was this woman?' Valdark knew not, but there was no doubt that this was the one, a woman, who held a strong hold within Aribor's mind. He saw the sorceror's thick member, filling the beautiful woman's mouth, pulsing with passion and seed shooting into the woman's throat, and dribbling thickly from her nouth as she pulled away. He saw the slender beauty of a bronzed body rudely invaded in a few different places by the wizard's fat cock. There were more scenes, many more, filling this part of the sorceror's brain. It contained the sorceror's current fantasies, or even perhaps realities, dominated completely by visions of this one woman.
Even Valdark was impressed by these visions. For a passing moment he too wanted to penetrate the woman's flesh, as Aribor so obviously did. Valdark was reputed to be quite averse to sexual motivations due to a long life of wizardry and a reputed youthful interest in males. He had perhaps seen too much of life, and death, to be much moved by mere physical interests.
He understood Aribor's desire for this woman, which was strong. He surmised she may be some woman of this city, whom the sorcerer had found, and who had somehow entrapped him. Was she a sorceress using the power of her attraction for her own purposes? It was possible. In that case Aribor's desire that the merchant should not be punished may derive from the woman. Perhaps she was working for the citizens of Cromilil and Shalirion. Perhaps the merchant Chanceleord was an important figure in the government here, and she wished him to be saved. He worried that a loyal sorcerer, such as Aribor, could be turned so easily in his opinions, but it seemed Aribor had no plan to actually intervene, in any way, to save the merchant.
Valdark came alongside Aribor the sorcerer once again. "You have a young woman of great beauty locked away somewhere. I can see it in your mind Aribor! There is no use in denying this. I can see she has some connection to this condemned merchant. I never thought you, Aribor, could love. I did not think you had that in you, which would be to your credit. For love is foolish and weak. In a sorcerer love is a particularly great weakness, in which you may lay yourself open to the blackmail and control of others, particularly of wizards. I see you actually love this girl!"
Valdark actually croaked with his own version of laughter, a cackling which made him seem more birdlike than human. There was little of normal humanity about the sorcerer. What humour there was in him was his own and not like others. Valdark's view of love was no surprise to Aribor as all sorcerors must banish any thoughts of love when they learn their craft, particularly if they wish to make pure and effective magic and avoid being caught out by their agreements.
Indeed Aribor had always prided himself on his own lack of connection to other human beings. His own parents brothers and sisters had all long since left this world in civil wars, purges and other personal conflicts of the past. There were other more distant relatives, but none he ever cared about much or ever visited. Early adventures in love or friendship had usually ended in pain, jealousy or resentments. He had learned to live independently, for himself, owing nothing to others. He owed fealty to Guthelm and certain others of the Lords of Grumandria. He owed loyalty to the great sorcerer Valdark, who now addressed him. These loyalties came from duty rather than love, and from his desire for self preservation and the need for patrons to protect him. His sexual interests and his search for beauty were not the desire for love, he thought, but more for the satisfactions of his own lusts. He owed nothing of love to those in whom he invested his interest.
Aribor glowered back, mindful that he must not cause offence to his leader, but unable to prevent some sign of his irritation. "Love is an alien idea to me, he declared, curtly. "It has no place in the mind of a sorcerer."
"But I see it there! You have become attached to a young woman. You cannot deny it. I can see it clearly in your mind," said Valdark, cackling irritatingly again.
Aribor realised that despite his defence, the greater sorcerer must have seen inside his mind. He recognized the desire and lust he felt for Remzain the beauty. It was powerful. From self interest he cared something for the fate of her father, because he did wish the woman to give willingly of her charms. He did not wish to admit this to Valdark, because it might well make him appear soft. A sorcerer should be ruthless and unforgiving. He should hold no scruples. However, if Valdark had seen within his mind, he could not deny the existence of the young woman, or even the connection to her father.
'There is a beauty, a woman of Cromilil, whom I have acquired for my reward," Aribor confessed. "It is true that I feel some lust towards her. She is indeed a rich reward. But lust is not love. She is my prisoner."
"Too much lust can be a dangerous thing in a sorcerer," said Valdark coldly. "Beware my friend, for love weakens us. The enemy can strike in the heart of those who love!"
