A sickly sweat had begun to pearl on the wizard's brow. His features twitched and his voice took on a gentleness all the more horrible coming from his lips. "Bold lad to stand against me," he murmured. "I did no more than test your courage to see if you were worthy to serve me, worthy of rich rewards. You shall have gold in proof of my friendship. And in proof of yours, you shall give me― the small thing, the trifle you hold in your hand."
"This worthless shard?" Taran answered. "Will you have it for a token? Then let us share it, half for me and half for you."
"No, no, do not break it!" screamed Morda, his face turning ashen. He thrust out a skinny claw and took a step toward Taran, who quickly drew back and raised the fragment of bone above his head.
"A worthless thing it is," Taran cried. "Your life, Morda! Your life I hold in my hand!"
Morda's eyes rolled madly in their wasted sockets, a violent shudder gripped him and his body quaked as though buffeted by a gale. "Yes, yes!" he cried in a voice racked with terror. "My life! Poured into my finger! With a knife I cut it from my own hand. Give! Give it back to me!"
"You set yourself above the human kind," Taran replied. "You scorned their weakness, despised their frailty, and could not see yourself as one of them. Even I, without birthright or name of my own know that if nothing else I am of the race of men."
"Kill me not!" cried Morda, writhing in anguish. "My life is yours; take it not from me!" The wizard flung himself to his knees and stretched out his trembling arms. His bloodless lips quivered as the words burst from his mouth. "Hear me! Hear me! Many secrets are mine, many enchantments. I will teach them to you. All, all!"
Morda's hands clasped and unclasped. His fingers knotted around each other and he rocked back and forth at Taran's feet. His voice had taken on a wheedling, whining tone. "I will serve you, serve you well, Master Pig-Keeper. All my knowledge, all my powers at your bidding." Angharad's jewel dangled from its silver chain at Morda's wrist, and he clutched it and held it up before Taran. "This! Even this!"
"The gem is not yours to give," Taran answered.
"Not mine to give, Master Pig-Keeper?" The wizard's voice grew soft and sly. "Not mine to give. But yours to take. Would you know its secret workings? I alone can tell you. Would you gain mastery of its use? Have you never dreamed of power such as this? Here, it awaits you. The race of men at your beck and call. Who would dare disobey your smallest wish? Who would not tremble in fear of your displeasure? Promise me my life, Master Pig-Keeper, and I shall promise you…"
"Do you bargain with enchantment you stole and corrupted?" Taran cried angrily. "Let its secrets die with you!"
At this Morda howled horribly and pressed himself almost flat on the ground. Barking sobs racked his body. "My life! Spare it! Spare it! Do not give me to death. Take the gem. Change me to the lowest crawling thing, to foulest vermin, only let me live!"
The sight of the cowering wizard turned Taran sick at heart, and for a long moment he could not speak. At last he said, "I will not kill you, Morda."
The wizard left off his frightful sobbing and lifted his head. "You will not, Master Pig-Keeper?" He crept forward and made as though to fling his arms about Taran's feet.
"I will not kill you," repeated Taran, drawing back in revulsion, "though it is in my heart to do so. Your evil is too deep for me to judge your punishment. Restore my companions," he commanded. "Then you will go prisoner with me to Dallben. He alone can give whatever justice you may hope for. Stand, wizard. Cast Angharad's jewel from you."
Morda, still crouching, slowly and reluctantly pulled the chain from his wrist. His pasty cheeks trembled as he fondled the winking gem, murmuring and muttering to himself. Suddenly he leaped upright and sprang forward. With all his might he swung the jewel at the end of its chain like a whip across Taran's face.
The sharp edges of the stone slashed Taran's forehead. With a cry he stumbled backward. Blood streamed into his eyes, blinding him. The shard of bone flew from his fingers and went spinning and skittering over the floor. Under the force of the wizard's blow, the jewel snapped from its silver chain and rolled into a corner.
In another moment the wizard was upon him growling and snarling like a mad beast. Morda's fingers clawed at Taran's throat. His yellow teeth were bared in a ghastly grin. Taran strove to tear himself from the wizard's grasp, but the frenzy of Morda's attack staggered him; he lost his footing and tumbled to earth. Uselessly he sought to break the deadly grip that stifled him. His head whirled. Through bloodfilled eyes he glimpsed the wizard's face twisted in hate and fury.
"Your strength will not save you," Morda hissed. "It is no match for mine. You are weak as all your kind. Did I not warn you? My life is not in my body. Strong as death am I! So shall you die, pig-keeper! "