Jardek was not going to enjoy the audience he was about to
receive, but he did not dare defy the Master.  Not yet, at least.
And never openly.  Kharazz was a fool for planning to do so.
        He arrived.  Carefully, he avoided looking at the Master,
knowing that to do so would be to scan the Master's mind, however
shallowly.  The Master would not tolerate such actions.  The scan
would reveal his weaknesses.  Jardek was not foolish enough to
believe that the Master had none--all beings had some flaw--but he
had no illusions about the Master's power.  Jardek would never live
to reveal the knowledge.
        Hesitantly, he spoke.  "You sent me to scan the hero Edgar,
Master..."
        "Yes.  Report."
        Jardek shuffled uneasily.  "I could not.  First I tried the
dream probe, but it seems the King of Figaro does not dream.  And
when I scanned his waking mind..."
        The Master said nothing, but the silence became ominously
charged.  Jardek hastened to fill it.  "I would say he was a madman,
Master, if he did not act so rationally.  He seems almost to have
two separate minds, or perhaps three."
        "So you have failed."
        "There is more, Master.  Edgar has possession of one of the
mystic orbs.  Or most of one.  Fragments are missing.  I suspect it is
the orb which was stolen from Celes.  And the King has some great mystic
power, which grows with his cruelty.  Already he has raised the dead to
do battle for him, and he grows stronger as he kills.  Soon, he may
be able to challenge even you."
        Jardek was playing a dangerous game, and he knew it.  But if he
could create doubt in the Master, even a small amount, he could fan it
later until it proved the fatal flaw.  The Master's downfall.
        The Master spoke, "It is well that you have brought me this
information.  For that, I will allow you to live and continue serving
me, despite your failure.  Perhaps I should send a... special...
representative to Figaro, to deal with Edgar."  He chuckled softly, a
chilling laugh that made even the Fiend of Mind shudder.  Yes, thought
Jardek, I must be careful.
        But the Master had not finished.  With a flash of golden light,
a familiar form appeared.  A man with shoulder-length white hair,
wearing garments of crimson, including an enveloping cloak.  The garb
of a Red Wizard.  But instead of a red hat, this man wore a silver
circlet on his head.  A circlet bearing five runes, each proclaiming
mastery of a type of ancient magic: the White, the Red, the Black, the
Blue, and the rarest form, long since lost to others, the Gold.  This
man was the Master of All Magicks.  Mordath.  The Fiend of Magic.  The
only one of the fiends who had once been human, the greatest archmage
of his time, whose lust for power had led him to cast a forbidden
spell, changing him to something _other_ than human.  Beyond human.
A Fiend.
        The Master barely glanced at Mordath, and the Fiend nodded.
The job had been arranged already, then.  Jardek was not surprised.
        Mordath spoke.  "I go to King Edgar, Lord.  I shall return
shortly, with the information you request.  His power," he haughtily
added, "is nothing to mine!"
        And the Master laughed, for the second time in a day, his
blood-curdling cackle.