Brand heaved himself to his feet. "I protest this insult!" he said thickly. "Why am I to follow him? He is not even of royal birth!"
The robed figure on the left seemed to tense. Its voice sounded suddenly almost metallic. "You follow," it repeated deliberately.
Brand stood irresolutely, two solid rows of shadowed faces turned toward him. Then Telis spoke up softly, almost casually.
"A challenge, Brand, to decide?"
"I follow," muttered Brand, sinking into his chair sullenly.
Telis smiled to himself. If ever a coward like Brand should pick up a flung challenge, surely the Water Goddess would throw down the moons!
Slowly, the hooded men filed from the room, leaving Telis alone. For a moment Brand paused by the door, and Telis could see that he fingered his sword hilt under the sable robes. But he stood so, glaring at Telis, for only a minute. Then he was gone.
From the darkness of the courtyard beneath the tower window came the sound of a whistle, and Lord Telis relaxed. The bribed guardsman's signal indicated that the last member of the Maldia had mounted his sith and was safely away.
Telis felt a stirring of pride. Any victory was a pleasing thing to him; but tonight's smashing triumph over Brand was a thing the renegade princeling would long remember! The Maldia had chosen to forget that he, Telis, came only from the lower nobility.