Bingaleal gave a small smile. “You can see what I have become, Eleanon. You want it, too.”
“I still harbor reservations about the One. Bingaleal, we have long known of the lore of the Magi, and of its power—”
“To touch Infinity!”
“Yes, to touch Infinity, but at what cost? With what danger? Who has managed it, eh, and emerged unscathed?”
“The One. The One is Infinity.”
Eleanon did not reply. He sat thinking, staring at his hands folded before him. Bingaleal was so different. Eleanon could feel the power within him, feel the certainty and confidence in the direction he’d taken.
But Eleanon was not sure. He wanted it so badly, yet still that tiny, cautious voice sounded in his mind. Surely the One would demand a price.
“None,” said Bingaleal, “save that we deliver to the One the citadel of Elcho Falling, and its master. I am no slave to the One, Eleanon. I am not his servant. This is a transaction only. The One can give me, us, what we have so long desired—freedom from both our Skraeling and Icarii blood—and for a single payment: Elcho Falling. He can give us our dignity and a future, Eleanon. Maximilian Persimius cannot do that. He is too weak.”
“There may be a trap, Bingaleal. Why should the One be so generous?”
“Because we can aid each other. He can give us our hearts’ desire. We can give him what he needs—the destruction of Elcho Falling.”
“He can’t do that himself?”
“Elcho Falling is still protected by ancient sorceries that even the One cannot penetrate. The One has cursed Maximilian and Ishbel—Isaiah is on his way north now, carrying news of the curse to Maximilian—which has a potential to win Elcho Falling for the One without so much as a finger lift of effort…but even so, the One would like our aid, and is willing to pay handsomely for it.”
Bingaleal sat back, considering Eleanon. “Would you like to speak with him yourself?”
Then he laughed at the expression on Eleanon’s face. “He will not bite, nor ensorcel your soul, Eleanon. You shall not be enslaved.”
“Do I have your promise?”
“Yes.”
Eleanon reached out a hand, hesitating only slightly before he laid it on Bingaleal’s arm.
He gave a breath of relief. “You are not enslaved, Bingaleal,” he said. “I can feel it.”
“I am only enhanced,” said Bingaleal.
“Yes, I can feel that, too.”
“Will you speak with the One?”
“Yes. Where?”
Bingaleal nodded toward Hairekeep. “There.”