The High Druid's Blade (The Defenders of Shannara, #1)(51)

In any case, the guards let him pass with nothing more than a perfunctory greeting. He was well known here, and he was expected. So the searches and questions that others had to endure were not required of him.

The Minister’s personal assistant, a man named Crepice who had been with Caeil since the beginning of his rise to power, greeted Arcannen with a smile that somehow managed to lack expression and led him to the inner chambers where his employer was waiting.

“Well met, Arcannen,” Fashton Caeil greeted him cheerfully, immediately drawing the sorcerer’s suspicion. Caeil was almost never cheerful. “Come, sit. A glass of ale?”

A big, corpulent man with thinning hair and close-set, piggish features, he had the look of someone who didn’t quite understand the world and its people. But underestimating his intelligence would be a mistake; Fashton Caeil was very smart and very clever. Not much got past this man, and while he might look self-indulgent and vague, he was anything but.

Arcannen moved over to the chair offered and accepted the glass of ale. “You seem quite … satisfied this morning,” he said in response. “Rather like the cat that caught the mouse.”

“Well, yes. I’ve had quite a good week.” Caeil sat across from him, settling his bulk into the chair gingerly. “Fresh possibilities for advancement have unexpectedly surfaced. I am looking at a rather exciting prospect. Our current First Minister seeks to step down. Age and time have fueled a loss of his interest in the battles of the political arena. My name has been mentioned as his successor. By more than a few, I should add.”

Arcannen inclined his lean frame toward the other in acknowledgment of the announcement’s importance. “It would be a well-deserved advancement.”

“Yet I am cautious of such judgments. Much of what happens to us in life is due to chance and circumstances beyond our control. Being in the right place at the right time. Discovering that others have impacted us more than we know and for reasons that are not entirely clear. But hard work matters, too. There is an old saying: The harder I work, the luckier I get.”

“If so, then you should be quite lucky indeed.”

Caeil shrugged. “Tell me what news you have of our latest venture. How does it go? Are the pieces falling into place?”

The sorcerer nodded. “It goes well enough. But there have been changes to it. I was forced to rethink my plans a few weeks back when I discovered that the brother possesses an artifact of great magic, one that I must find a way to control. I thought to do so through the sister, but he managed to unlock the artifact’s magic and rescue her. Pure chance. To counter this, I have retaken her and placed her in Mischa’s tender hands. I think she will provide the impetus we need.”

The minister studied him a moment and then shook his head doubtfully. “I mistrust this approach. It relies on mind control and deception of thought. Not the most reliable of tools.”

“It requires a practiced hand, yes. It requires skill and patience and careful application. But it works. I have seen the results.”

“You put too much faith in Mischa. She is a witch, after all. Who can tell what such a person might do?”

Indeed, Arcannen thought darkly, ignoring the implication that he was of the same ilk. “She raised me, Caeil. She taught me everything I know of mind control. She is my solid and dependable ally.”

“Yours, perhaps. Not necessarily mine.” He made a dismissive wave of his hand. “This plan you have concocted is a fragile vessel.”

“The plan will work as intended. The Druid order will become ours to manipulate, and you will be credited as the man who made it happen. Then your advancement beyond the position of First Minister to Prime Minister will be all but assured.”

“And yours as caretaker of magic? It is a pleasant daydream. But I wonder if it is anything more.”

“Think about it. Think of how it works. We deceive ourselves far more easily than others deceive us. Our false perceptions betray us. Our fears and doubts worm their way into our subconscious and cause us to believe what isn’t necessarily true but becomes true through our own fixation on the possibilities. How do you think I managed to get the girl to believe she was able to bet in a game of chance where she had no coin? How do you think I managed to steal her away as easily as I did? She was no fool. She was young, tough-minded, and smart. But that only made her more vulnerable to the self-deception I instigated.”

“Yes, but this new approach? What you are attempting now? I see that you might achieve your goals in the short term, but will they last beyond the day? Or the week’s end? You condition her for a task that is innately repulsive and abhorrent to her. Will she not at some point realize what has been done to her?”

“Of course. It is unavoidable. She will doubt, she will equivocate, and she will mistrust her own perceptions. She will be enveloped in her inability to sort out truth and falsehood. But only one act is required of her. She will have her chance and the means to act on it. She will do what she has long since decided she must because she will believe unfailingly in its rightness.”

Arcannen shrugged. “And if she fails for some reason, we have lost nothing. But if she succeeds, think of what we will have gained.”

The big man drank his ale glass dry and set it aside. “But will the new Ard Rhys be as receptive as you think? What is to prevent his change of mind where we are concerned? What is to keep him loyal to us? How do we assure ourselves against a rebellion that will leave us where we are now?”