A/N: This chapter is another interlude, intended to go right after the first. It is the new ending of Part One.
Interlude 2
Laszlo
Two Days Ago
Laszlo Tolemas was the sort of man who rarely heard the word “no.”
Plenty of variations of a refusal were thrown his way, of course. He was no stranger to hesitation, reluctance—even sometimes abandonment of duty or a passive rebellion—from others. Those were all relatively easy to deal with: enough prodding and prying, and most people could be convinced, one way or another. But an outright “no” was something he wasn’t quite used to hearing.
Which made it all the more frustrating that this girl was pushing back so hard.
Millie—the girl—stood in front of him, her eyes downcast as she fretted with her fingers. Laszlo was not a particularly tall man, but this girl seemed miniscule in front of him. Though, perhaps that had more to do with her acting like a frightened kitten than with any real size disparity.
“You didn’t see the look in her eyes, Laszlo,” Millie mewled. “She seemed ready to kill me.” Her eyes flicked to Laszlo, then to Folnir, and then back to the floor. The raven perched on Laszlo’s shoulder peered at the girl with his piercing, pure black eyes. Laszlo knew that between Folnir and his own lightning-crackle scar, the effect would be unsettling—in fact, he was counting on it.
“I assure you she will not, child,” Laszlo said, forcing his voice to remain level. “The pain that woman feels is surely directed inward, not outward. You must stay strong for me, Millie.” He smiled at her—it seemed the right thing to do.
“But… I do not want to do that to her,” Millie protested. “She’s done nothing wrong to me, and I-”
“Millie,” Laszlo interrupted. “What would your mother say?”
Millie flinched as if she’d been hit. “I- well- she-”
“This must be done, child. You know it.”
The girl bit her lip. Her eyes darted between Laszlo’s and the floor. Laszlo let the slightest glimmer of irritation flicker past his eyes, and Millie visibly paled.
“Right,” she said after a few moments. “Right, you’re right.”
Laszlo leaned in a fraction closer. “Millie,” he began, warningly. “Can I trust you?”
She balked, and nodded. “Yes, Laszlo, I promise.”
Laszlo narrowed his eyes, and looked the girl up and down. Satisfied, he nodded.
“Good. Now go get some rest. You will need it, child.” He turned and walked down the hall, leaving the girl to her thoughts.
As he walked, Laszlo let his thoughts wander to the events of the last few days. Delora had far surpassed his expectations. He’d heard the rumours, of course. Every magician with an ear to the ground had heard of House Vermillion’s bloody prodigy. He’d pieced together the truth of her dyadic magic himself, but even then, her talents surprised him. He hadn’t heard of such a talent in years, possibly ever—except Adamas, of course, Laszlo mused.
The Vermillion child, though, had been a welcome surprise. Laszlo had thought that the best Vermillion would offer would be an avenue to convince Delora to join, but the presence of a second dyadic magician—and another such talent!—had been more than he ever could have hoped.
Vermillion was intriguing to Laszlo. He saw some of himself in the child. He too had known that pain, that aimlessness, that desire to be a part of something greater.
Fortunately, Laszlo had something greater to offer.
The Fifth Law would offer Vermillion a place to go. There would be others suffering the same things, there, like Theoderic and, hopefully soon, the other prince. Vermillion would have the chance to learn from perhaps the most talented and damaged magicians of the time, even if the Magisterium refused to acknowledge it. And the Law would, in turn, be bolstered by the addition of two powerful dyadic magicians, one with considerable political clout.
Does Vermillion have what I need? Laszlo mused inwardly. Could this child be the key to it all?
Another part of him, a quieter, deeper part, exalted. The power these two wield could change everything, it said. They could truly be everything that we need and more.
This part of him was one that Laszlo had long learned to tamp down. It was that part that urged him forward, pushed him to rush his plans and jump into the action before he was ready. It had caused nothing but pain, and so he’d learned to not listen to that voice at the back of his mind. Though, he thought. It has been more convincing lately…
Laszlo found himself smiling, more genuinely this time. All of Laszlo’s maneuvers were going as he planned—better, in fact—and he found himself both proud of his work and vibrating in anticipation. He’d come so far, but there was still so much work to be done.
He found himself approaching the courtyard where he had met the young magicians a few days ago. The gardens of this palace—why were the nobility so averse to calling it a palace?—were admittedly quite lovely. Laszlo had found himself spending much of his free time enjoying the small pockets of fresh air in the otherwise suffocating halls of the palace.
As he approached the garden, he saw something unexpected—Vermillion, seated on a bench in the courtyard, very obviously distraught. He paused, and then another grin crept over his face. He was leaving in the morning, due to meet his contacts in Algaran by midday. The lightline would see him there quickly, but… Perhaps an extra nudge would not hurt.
And besides, Laszlo thought, the grin still smeared across his face. I’ve a secret to spill.
END OF PART ONE
Cambria's Corner 
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