* * *
Mithiar watched Culliket glowering at him. They were the only two still in the tavern, which annoyed the elf. Maliar had asked him to retrieve an item of hers from upstairs, but he could not do that while this one was still here.
He stood up abruptly and walked toward the glowering Celt. "You don't like me."
"Yer one o' Them, boy," Culliket grumbled.
Mithiar cocked his head slightly. He'd heard that tone of mingled contempt, anger, and fear before. "I am not a Siabra."
"Yer one o' that elven family. Almost as bad, ta me."
Mithiar blinked. "What do you have against us?"
"I've met yer sister. That Siabra witch is reason alone. And yer brother.... Useless elf. Fer all 'is claimed hatred of the Siabra, 'e did na lift a finger to help Caeoimhin."
Mithiar looked into the human's eyes. Oh, yes. Celebiar had mentioned earlier that one of Cul's friends had been one of the renegades. "You're wrong. Celebiar would take up his rapier and fight the Siabra Queen herself to avenge your Caeoimhin and any others whom the Siabra had killed."
"And what good would that do?"
Mithiar shrugged. "I don't know, but it's what Celebiar would do."
Cul was looking at him oddly, so he hastened to explain. "Celebiar is Celebiar. He gets as drunk on danger as Maliar gets on her wine. He simply does not place boundaries on when and where he gets drunk as Maliar does."
"Ye cannot change that yer sister is a Siabra witch."
Mithiar shrugged again. "Do not hate her for it. She has her reason."
"No reason in all tha world can 'scuse 'er hate for those that never did her no harm."
Mithiar blinked. "Maliar cannot hate."
Culliket narrowed his eyes. "Ye don't know yer sister well."
"Maliar cannot hate. Hatred requires a heart, and she does not have a heart."
"That's what I been sayin', elf."
Mithiar shook his head. "You've been saying she hates. She can't, though. She doesn't have a heart."
"If she don na got a heart, where is it?"
Mithiar stroked his dagger hilt. "She gave it away when she was younger. She gave it away to a handsome Celt, and he cut it to pieces with the most exquisite knives. He gave each piece to a beautiful Celtic woman, though why I do not know. So you see, she does not hate. She merely thinks she does."
Culliket looked troubled. "And what happened ta this Celt?"
"Celebiar killed him." Mithiar ignored the Celt's disbelieving look. Maliar had not been a Siabra then, and Celebiar had not hated the Siabra then. "Celebiar killed him, because that is what Celebiar does to people who hurt the ones he loves." Mithiar sucked in a breath. "You should not hate them, because they do not know the Truth."
"What truth, elf?"
Mithiar smiled dreamily. "The Truth is that it does not matter what lord you swear obedience to. All that matters is the Hunt and the Prey." Mithiar's eyes sparkled. "The invaders are good Prey, Cul, but do you know what the best Prey is?"
Culliket shook his head slowly.
"The best Prey is another of the Hunters that walk this plentiful land."
An odd expression appeared on Culliket's face. "Yer right. I should not hate them. I should hate you."
The End