“Now I understand. However you managed it, you’ve made yourself immune to death in order to disgrace me and stain my family’s reputation.”

“Think of what you’re suggesting. In order for it to be true, I would’ve had to find a way to do what no other mage before me has been able to accomplish-defy death-and then destroy that monastery so the Council would sentence me to be executed. Why would I want to go to all that trouble just to embarrass you, Sarsour? Surely you don’t think you’re that important.”

“As an individual, no. But as a member of the family Burhan and the current High Executioner, yes. Your family, the Duvessas, served as High Executioners for fifteen generations until my great-great-grandfather took over the post, and it has remained in my family ever since.”

“Why should something like that bother me?” Kardel said. He was no longer smiling. “Just because after your great-great-grandfather’s betrayal, the Duvessas have had to bear the burden of having been bested by a clan of inferior mages? Because from virtually the day I was born, I’ve watched you live a life that is rightfully mine? How could any of these piddling trifles possibly goad me into taking such extraordinary measure to embarrass and humble you?”

“Because if there’s one thing the Duvessas value more than power or wealth, it’s pride,” Sarsour said. “So now I know why you did it. The question is how you managed such a feat and what I need to do in order to counter the enchantment.”

Kardel laughed. “Don’t waste your time. There’s nothing you can do. Except fail, that is. Fail, disgrace your ancestors, and lose the position of High Executioner, not only for yourself, but for your descendants as well.”

Sarsour had no direct descendants to worry about at the moment, but he saw no reason to point this out to Kardel. The disgrace to his ancestors would be bad enough.

“Even if I do fail, Kardel, you shall never leave the dungeon. You shall remain here, bound within the Master Warder’s confinement spell for all time.”

Kardel shrugged. “Perhaps. But that will be a small price to pay to see my ancestors avenged. Now if you’ll be so kind as to go away and begin your life as a failure, I’d appreciate it. I’d like to get some sleep.” Kardel then lay down, curled up on his pallet, and closed his eyes.

Sarsour watched him for several moments, trying to think of a witty rejoinder. But none came. Before long, Kardel’s breathing deepened as sleep came to him, and the High Executioner turned and walked away.

“It’s not as if you haven’t had to deal with difficult situations before.”

Sarsour nodded and took a sip of his thorn tea. Adila had made it tepid and bitter, just the way he liked it.

“But this is the first time I’ve ever had to execute a mage of Kardel’s caliber before.” Sarsour sighed. “I’m not sure I’m up to the task.”

Sarsour sat at the head of a long mahogany table in the dining hall of his home. As Lord High Executioner for the Citadel of Tabari, he was granted a small manor home to the south of the Citadel itself. It wasn’t the best location in the city: that would be directly east or west of the Citadel. The view these locations offered of the Citadel’s crystalline structure at sunrise and sunset was magnificent. Still, his home was pleasant enough, and members of the Burhan family had occupied it for several generations. Though that might well change if Sarsour couldn’t find a way to execute Kardel.

Adila sat on Sarsour’s right, though her proper place was at the other end of the table. But the damn thing was so long that if she sat that far away from him, they couldn’t hear each other unless they shouted. So when it was just the two of them-and it almost always was-they dispensed with protocol.

“You managed to kill Berra, Queen of Blood, didn’t you?” Adila pointed out. “And she had the ability to regenerate organs and missing limbs.”

“True.” That had been a tricky case. It had taken Sarsour almost three months to devise a spell that transformed Berra into a sentient pool of water. He then had her poured into a rain barrel and placed outside during the dry season. She evaporated over the course of a week and had never been seen again.

“And what about Jarkar the Spiritwalker?” Adila asked.

Jarkar had possessed the power to make his body completely intangible so that nothing could harm him. The Master Warder had been able to create a confinement ring that held his ethereal form, but for the first time Sarsour-despite his best efforts-had been unable to carry out the sentence of execution. He tried withholding the evil mage’s food and water but soon realized Jarkar didn’t require either as long as he remained wraithlike. Eventually, Sarsour developed an intangible blade matched to the specific density of Jarkar’s ghostly form. The executioner set the blade into a very tangible handle and was able to use the newly created weapon to fulfill his duty.

“If you could figure out a way to kill those two, then you should be able to do the same with Kardel,” Adila said. She was a slim, petite woman with curly brown hair tinged gray in spots. Neither she nor Sarsour were especially old, but they weren’t exactly young either. Though the spouse of a master mage usually wore clothing that resembled her husband’s (or his wife’s), Adila wasn’t overly fond of black. She favored bright colors, and this afternoon she had on a yellow dress with billowy sleeves that her arms seemed lost in.

Adila taught youth preservation and restoration at the university, popular specialties to be sure, given the demand for such services, especially among the rich and powerful of Qadira. Such magic could do little more than postpone the inevitable, of course, but that was more than enough for most people. Adila’s colleagues at the university often made the observation that it was ironic that she should marry Sarsour, considering that she specialized in spells to extend life and he was a necromancer who specialized in magical executions. But where others saw irony, Adila saw balance.

We complement each other, she’d once said to Sarsour. Male and female, life and death…What could be more perfect?

What indeed?

Sarsour smiled and reached out to pat his wife’s hand. “I appreciate your faith in me, my love. But I’m afraid the situation is different this time. Somehow, Kardel has managed to find a way to make himself immune to death.”

Adila’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is such a thing possible?”

“Apparently. I fear Kardel may be the first prisoner a member of my family has failed to slay since the Buhrans took over the office of High Executioner.”

“Even if that does occur-and I’m not saying it will-would that be so awful? The Council of Hierarchs would just commute Kardel’s sentence to life imprisonment without the chance for parole, yes?”

“That’s right. Kardel will still be punished for his crimes, no matter what. Nevertheless, I will be disgraced in the eyes of the Council, and they may well decide to replace me.” And if that happened, it would mean the end of the Buhran family’s tradition of service to the Council. Sarsour’s replacement-whoever it might be-would become the founder of a new line of High Executioners-and Sarsour’s family name would eventually be little more than a footnote in the history books.

Adila didn’t say anything for a time. And when she finally broke the silence, she looked down at the tabletop instead of meeting her husband’s gaze.

“There might be advantages to your leaving office,” she said softly.

Sarsour couldn’t believe he had heard her correctly. “You can’t be serious!”

Adila continued to avert her eyes as she went on. “It would give you more time to research our…problem. And perhaps finally find a solution for it.”

Now Sarsour understood. He reached out and clasped her hand, and when he spoke, his tone was gentle and loving. “I’ve been trying, you know. For years now, I’ve spent every extra moment researching fertility spells and counterspells to remove curses.”