The balding priest, who called himself Death, fidgeted.  He had failed in
killing Scarecrow, and the High Priest did not accept failures well.  Death
ran one hand along his back, fingering the scars that remained there from
the last time he had failed.  The room seemed to be getting colder by the
second.  Not that it was very warm to begin with.
  The door to the small antechamber swung open, revealing the purple-and-
gold robed figure of the High Priest of the Black Plague.  The Priest looked
even less pleased than usual.
  "So..." began the High Priest, turning the full stare of his blood-red
eyes upon his underling.  "So... you dare return to me with news of failure!
And not only did you lose, but six others of our number died!  I do not
tolerate such incompetence, Death!"
  Electricity suddenly crackled from the High Priest's hands, lancing into
Death.  He doubled over in pain, as the surge continued to grow in
strength... stronger... his vision faded, all parts of him concentrating on
only the pain... stronger...
  "Enough!" shouted the High Priest, and the pain suddenly faded.  "Now!  If
you are unable to find a reason that I should let you live, I will give you
as a sacrifice to the Master.  He is even better at dealing pain than I
am..."
  Death cowered, remembering full well the touch of the Master.  There was
only one thought on his mind now: /Scarecrow brought me to this.  Scarecrow
must die./  Death only barely managed to contain his rage, his desire to
strike out and destroy Scarecrow.  "Great One, I have learned much from my
battle with Scarecrow.  I have learned of his abilities.  I have also
seen... his weakness."  Death was half-lying, but only half.
  "Indeed?  What is this weakness?"
  "He relies heavily on his magical cloak, which was created with the
element I use.  Without it, magic will easily destroy him.  I alone can
unbind this cloak, Great One."
  Death didn't even have time to duck as the fist smashed into his face,
sending him sprawling across the floor.  Blood ran down his smooth, balding
head.
  "Worm!  Your powers are nothing, and you would not even have THEM if I did
not grant them to you.  Never overestimate your importance!"
  Death shifted to a kneeling position.  "I am sorry, your Greatness.  I
only meant to say that the powers you have given me are well-suited to this
task.  I also aam the only one surviving of those who have fought with him.
I know how he fights.  I am the ideal choice for this task."
  The High Priest stood there, staring, for a long moment.  Then he laughed.
"No, there was one other who fought Scarecrow and survived.  One of the
Master of Beast's creatures, this... Aquilan."
  Death sneered faintly at the mention of Serevin.  He was an ambitious
coward, and didn't even deserve to be a member of the Black Plague.
  "Serevin wasn't even expected to lift a finger on this project, and yet he
brings back better results than you.  His Aquilan would have destroyed
Scarecrow, if not for a powerful magic item of Scarecrow's, a weapon of
sacred power.  Serevin also learned that Scarecrow can use magic, not to
mention tools.  He also demonstrates typical abilities of an assassin,
such as knife-throwing, and stealth.  Have you anything to add to that?"
  Death frowned.  So, Serevin had brought better results?  One day, Death
promised himself, Serevin will grovel at my feet.  "My Lord, I have seen him
use the skills taught by Duncan, as well.  He must be in league..."
  "I will decide who is in league with who," the High Priest interrupted.
"You have only to tell me what I wish to know.  I have decided to grant you
one last chance, Death.  Several of the orders are preparing a... meeting
with this Scarecrow.  Now, here is your part..."
  Death listened intently, as a slow smile began to creep across his face.
The plan was perfect.  Scarecrow would die.