High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series (16 page)

But our attention was upon our host, Master Haruthel, who spoke for the council from the beginning.  He first addressed his people in his own tongue, then spoke Narasi for our benefit.

“It is the decision of this council,” Master Haruthel said, slowly, “that the threat in the East, the
kulnuara
known as Shereul, is a real and authentic danger to all of these lands.  The Abomination wrought by the feral gurvani, and the armies that it, in turn, created threaten everyone in the realm.  The shadow that has been unleashed by the gurvani is potent.  It may be beyond the power of the council to defeat, and its domain remains a threat to both Alka Alon and the other races.”

Nice of them to agree on that,
Pentandra told me, mind-to-mind.

They had to agree that there was a threat before they could agree what to do about it,
I noted.  No one
is immune from bureaucratic procedure.

“It is therefore the decision of the council to take appropriate action.  Since they cannot be protected, the refuges east of the Pearwoods will continue to be evacuated,” he continued.  “Those displaced will be relocated to more secure strongholds, where possible.  We will be hard pressed to find room for them all, but we cannot risk our folk falling prey to the dark priests of the Abomination. 

“Secondly, the nature and disposition of these dark lands shall be investigated.  No direct action will be taken against it until it is more completely understood.  For this we will designate our agents, and call upon the skills of our Kasari friends.”  He nodded toward the ranger and then turned to me.  “As much as our humani allies would appreciate a robust intervention,” he said, looking pointedly at me, “interference without understanding invites catastrophe, in this instance.  We will proceed cautiously.” 

That wasn’t particularly good news, if the goblins decided to invade southern Gilmora this summer, but cautious interest was better than apathy, I consoled myself. 

“Thirdly, Master Minalan shall be allowed to retain his irionite sphere.  He has demonstrated his responsibility with his powers, and has acted with wisdom and restraint.  Further, he is named a Friend of the council, as our liaison with the new humani kingdom.  His request for assistance will be met, and we will continue to exchange information and lend what assistance we can – in a limited way.”

That was also lukewarm news.  I knew the council was toying with the bad idea of trying to take my sphere away, and hearing that they would not make the attempt was gratifying.  Being a Friend of the Council was nice, I supposed, but being the liaison between the kingdom and the council sounded like far too much work.  Not that I had a choice in the matter, but the weight of the additional responsibility was not welcome, even if the sentiment was.

“Fourth, in the pursuit of this course, the council has decided to allow a very limited use of transgenic magics to facilitate communication and the sharing of knowledge between our two peoples, and also to assist in the investigation of the region your folk call the Umbra.

“In return, Master Minalan will agree to facilitate research into the nature and origin of snowstone.”

Also an expected development.  I was pretty curious myself, of course, but it did not seem that important to me, considering the goblins.  The Alka Alon, apparently, had different priorities.  But if they put a value on asking me questions about my wife’s labor and delivery, I wasn’t going to leave the coin on the table.  Besides, there was a very high likelihood that we’d learn something useful out of it.

“Fifth, we ask that the gurvan known as Gurkarl, who has some especial destiny according to the feral gurvani’s native prophecy, shall be brought before us for examination and discussion,” Master Haruthel said, his eyes fixing on mine again. 

“Sixth, in light of the chaos of the moment, a company shall be formed and expeditions shall be sent to investigate the whereabouts of Ameras, daughter of the Aronin of Angriel, and other missing Alka Alon.  In this we may ask for humani aid, at need, and look to Magelord Minalan to facilitate that.

“Lastly, all of the settlements and refuges in the realm shall be guarded and alert against the menace posed by the Abomination.  The wandering companies shall be recalled, the nurseries and arbors shall be abandoned, for now, as a precaution against attack.

“Thus has the council decided,” he intoned, and then went back to lecturing everyone else in Alka Alon.

That went better than I expected,
Pentandra admitted, while he droned on.

It was nearly everything we wanted,
I agreed. 
I still can’t help but think they were holding back.

Of course they are.  But we’ve established ourselves as a player at the table.  That’s worth a lot right there.  They’re taking us seriously.

We’ll see.

There was a lot more to it – the council had apparently ruled on dozens of cases.  Suddenly I realized what it must feel like to be in my own court as a plaintiff or defendant. I wondered idly if they wee bored and if their little arses hurt.  I didn’t understand a tithe of what was decided, as most of it had to do with the internal workings of the Tree Folk refuges, but there were a few names that caught my attention.

“. . . Onranion to be released on his own responsibility after questioning by the council, and dispatched to Lesgaethael at the council’s behest for scholarship and assistance.  Randior to be . . .”

“That name,” I said, out loud.

“What name?” Pentandra asked.

“Onranion,” I said.  “I know that name.  And they said Lesgaethael.”

“Who is Onranion?” she asked, one eyebrow arched.

“He’s the one who . . . who made my witchsphere,” I informed her. 

“I hate that name,” Pentandra remarked.  “We’ve got to come up with something else.”

“Regardless, he took three pieces of irionite and made it one . . . then laced it with powerful Alka Alon songspells.”  I reached out and tapped Ithalia on the shoulder.  “Is that . . . ?”

“The same,” she nodded.  “Master Onranion has been detailed to work with us at Lesgaethael.
Is that a problem, Magelord?”

“Not at all!” I smiled.  “I like the old coot.  He has a mischievous streak.”

“That is what earned him an inquiry from the council,” she reminded me.  “He is pleased with the appointment.  He looks forward to studying snowstone, despite his poor grace among some of the council.  Some wished to see him sanctioned, not rewarded.”

“I know, but he’s a good fellow.  He did that knowing it would get him into trouble.”

“He was very grateful for your assistance, Magelord, and sought to demonstrate that with the gift.  I trust you have not . . . have not used it often?”

“No,” I admitted.  “I guess I’m uneasy about using it without proper Alka Alon supervision.  But I suppose he would qualify.  If the council let me keep my sphere, then they can’t really complain if I use it.”

“There are others who might object,” she said, uneasily.

“The . . . what did he call them?  The Enshadowed?  I wouldn’t let their opinions decide whether or not I’d pursue a promising line of research, Ithalia.  Especially if it could save Gilmora.  Besides, I’ve got every other kind of fanatic out there after me already.  A few more won’t hurt.”

“Your boldness does you credit, Magelord,” she said, quietly.

Master Haruthel gave one last public good-bye before closing the council, thanking the participants, praising his staff, and inviting the principals back in a year’s time to reconvene.

Then we broke up.  Pentandra said a lengthy good-bye to the ranger captain and my Alka Alon emissaries collected our party in short order – with the addition of Onranion.

The old Alkan was eager to go – he had apparently been on house arrest, or something, after his inquiry began, and was visibly excited by the prospect of seeing the Snow That Never Melted in person.  He greeted me warmly.

“I knew they would let you keep it, after they met you,” he assured me.  “They’re just worried about misuse, and you’re the most level-headed human I’ve ever met.   And to think that was just the start of your journeys,” he chuckled, his bell-like laughter lifting my spirits.  “I’m looking forward to getting into the mysteries you’ve created.”

“I . . . hope you don’t mind working with Karshak,” I said, hesitantly.  I know some Alka Alon had issues with their cousins.

“No, no, I love the Karshak,” he assured.  “Great craftsmen, in their way, and far underappreciated.  I’d heard you were working with a stonesinger.”

“Master Guri,” I said.  He nodded. 

“A good choice.  A distinguished house,” he approved.

“I think you’ll like Sevendor,” I smiled.  “It has a lot of charm.  And a lot of potential.”

“Just the thing I am looking for.”

*                            *                            *

When we arrived atop Lesgaethael,
midmorning, the sun was shining brightly on both the spire overhead and the mountain in the distance.  You could see the Karshak scaffolding from here, now.  The vegetable gardens of the Tal Alon spread out below us and melded into fields of ripening wheat, oats, potatoes and barley.  The summer mowing was in full swing, requiring reluctant peasants to labor at the back-breaking work every hour of daylight, and the scent of fresh-cut grasses filled the air.

“How lovely,” Onranion said, after a few moment’s consideration.  “That’s a handsome tower,” he remarked, looking up at the spire of Lesgaethael.  “I can feel the effects of the stone already!”

“The whole tower is made from it,” explained Guri, with pride.  “We used a series of static arches on the—”

“Master Onranion,” Ithalia said, and triggered her transgenic enchantment.  In moments she was standing in front of me as the Alkan equivalent of a beautiful young woman in a very close-fitting gown of green and brown.  “Perhaps you should change.  Our original form proves distracting to the natives.  And the Tal at the foot of the mountain will not give you a moment of peace, in your true form.”  To emphasize this, Ladies Varen and Fallawen both transformed into shapely young human-style women wearing tightly-fitted gowns in a forest motif.

“Oh, yeah,” Dara snorted.  “
That
won’t be distracting at all.”

“It does keep your neck from hurting from looking up all the time,” I agreed.

“Oh, of course!” the old sorcerer laughed.  “Transgenics!  How delightful!  Go ahead, little one,” he said, nodding toward Ithalia.  She sang a song, the Alkan equivalent of a mnemonic, and Master Onranion’s tiny body grew in size and changed in form as the notes formed.  Soon he stood before us an older man, tall, with dark hair, graying ever-so-slightly at the temples in front of his ever-so-slightly pointed ears.

He was also completely naked.  I don’t know if it was the nature of the enchantment or Onranion’s native essence, but I had a feeling he would prove
extremely
popular with the ladies of Sevendor, if allowed to indulge in inter-species relations.  Apparently garments were not part of the original enchantment.

“We’ll find you some clothes,” Fallawen assured him, quickly, once she realized the problem. 

“Clothes!  Yes!  Looking forward to that.  A pendulous penis!” he said, childlike in his glee.  “How novel!”

“There are . . . other differences,” Ithalia said, blushing.  “Greater physical strength, for one.  Nor will the transformation be as difficult in the future.  The first time is always the most challenging.”

“My dear, I count myself completely satisfied.  Well then, Master spellmonger,” the naked Alkan asked me, conversationally, “Show me to this mountain of yours.”

“In due time, Master,” Lady Varen said, soothingly.  “The Magelord has duties to attend to, and we must instruct you in their ways, before you go forth among them.  The mountain will still be there.  Trust me, Master, we have spent weeks here learning their ways.”

“At least I can see it from here.  And I suppose this tower has enough of the substance to give me a place to begin my research,” he said, looking up at it hopefully.

“And I can go tell Alya I’m back.  She’s due any day now.  Pentandra, would you like to stay a few days?” I asked, hopefully.

“As pleasant as it sounds, I have duties to attend to at the capital,” she assured me.  “I would not want to inconvenience our emissaries.” That was her polite way of saying “your former lover doesn’t really need to be around your happy family during such an intimate time”, but I was too dense or scared to realize it.  Alya’s first birth had been eventful.  I was worried about the second. 

But while Pentandra knew more than any human being alive about conception, she knew next to nothing about its results.  I’d be better off with a village midwife, I realized.

“We are here to assist you,” Ithalia said, eagerly.  ”We can transport you later as easily as now.  We have been given permission to use the waypoints at will, now.”

“See?  Nothing to stop you lingering a few days.  Besides, we need to discuss what all happened at the council with everyone else.  Including the King.”

“Don’t forget this stuff,” Dara said, from behind us.  I turned.

“What stuff?”