Sorcerer's Moon (58 page)

Cray left off windwatching and opened her emerald eyes with a small grunt of satisfaction.

Thalassa, who sat beside her friend near the longhouse hearth, knitting a winter toque of muskox wool, put aside her work and prepared mugwort tea for both of them. 'Good news?'

'Casya and Ising have finally reached the trading post -and just in time, for there's a snowstorm rolling down from the Barren Lands. The first of the season, and much too early.'

'Hmmph. Well, in the place where they are, the air barely dips below frost-point at night, so any snowfall ought to melt soon enough. We're surely due a stretch of Redleaf Summer before the true deep freeze arrives. Here - have a nice cup of tea.'

Cray sipped in appreciation. 'Now that the two of them
are safe inside Morass Worm territory, we should bespeak Vaelrath and her clan and see whether they'll deign to meet with Her Audacious Majesty. Shall we explain to them the purpose of Casya's mission?'

Thalassa considered the matter, then shook her head. 'It's the girl's task to persuade the worms, as she did before when you guided her. We can be of help to her by summoning the worms, but we must not interfere. I don't think the Source would approve.'

No,
said a silent voice
.
I
would not
.

Cray squeaked and slopped her tea. 'Black rue and cuckoospit! How long have you been scrying us?'

Not long, dear soul. I was about to pass along information recently given to me by my Remnant colleagues when I noted your oversight of the young queen and her elderly champion. So I waited.

'And do you approve what they're up to?' the Conjure-Princess inquired.

The plan is well worth a try. Conrig and his Sovereign Army are at an impasse, waiting for the Salka to strike. Would that I could advise the king, but I am unable to do so. It may interest you to know that the prince-novice, Vra-Bramlow, has used two raw chunks of moonstone to invoke the Remnant and ask about the Salka. The Remnant responded - as they did to his younger brother Orrion -but to less drastic effect.

'What happened?' said Cray.

Alas, my friends were able to vouchsafe only minimally useful information on the whereabouts of the Salka host to Conrig's son, which he then conveyed to his father. The amphibians have devised an ingenious new form of cover-spell to conceal their activities. Thus far, it is impregnable to oversight... Other tidings passed on to me by the Remnant were more felicitous: the majority of the exiled Lights have been persuaded to return to our world's Sky Realm. They are already streaming through subtle corridors toward the hiding place of the Remnant.

Cray and Thalassa exchanged a dubious look.

'Why do they come?' the Green Woman asked. 'Have they plucked up their courage at last and decided to fight?'

'And are the wicked Beaconfolk aware of this startling new development?' Thalassa added.

The return is being accomplished very stealthily. We may hope that the detestable Coldlight Army will remain ... in the dark, at least for a time.

Thalassa's lips formed an astonished O. The Source had cracked a joke!

As to what may come of this, I cannot say. For now, the exiled Lights and the Remnant will only wait for the appropriate time of action. When it comes, all of us will know that the final phase of the New Conflict has begun.

'And what about us groundlings?' Cray said softly. 'Source, will you and your supernatural friends be able to help us in our own conflict? Or are you only concerned with the Sky?'

Victory will come to all of us when the channels conveying power and pain between our two Realms have been shut down. How this is to be accomplished remains an open question. You might think about it. Be of stout heart until we speak again, dear souls. Farewell.

The two women looked at each other. 'Enigmatic,' said Thalassa Dru.

'Infuriating,' said Cray. 'Let's think instead about how we might assist Casya's appeal to the worms, and leave the Source to his own devices. Frankly, I'm feeling very disappointed in him.'

* * *

The Eminent Four had gathered on the parapet of Fenguard's highest tower for the farewell. It was a soft afternoon, with misty drizzle resting most pleasantly on amphibian skin. Mighty Ugusawnn, the Supreme Warrior, was still convalescent after his Demon Seat ordeal; but he
was confident of his ability to carry the Master Shaman safely to the place where the Salka invasion force was massing for its assault.

'My recovery from Subtle Gateway's pain-debt was gratifyingly rapid,' Ugusawnn reminded the others. 'One would almost think that the Great Lights were mitigating their price in order to encourage us in our great endeavor.'

'My own debt from the initial experiment with Destroyer surprised me with its leniency as well,' Kalawnn admitted. One tentacle digit stroked the innocuous-looking wand, which hung on a golden chain around his massive neck. The Potency rested safely within his gizzard. 'Of course, I only obliterated a sandbank at the mouth of the Darkling Estuary. Still, it was a most satisfying outcome, proving that the Great Stone would perform its sorcery at a considerable distance from the conjurer - and with precision.'

'Made a lovely bang and waterspout, too!' the First Judge remarked in approval. 'Still, you don't want to overstress yourself at the beginning of the campaign, Kalawnn. A measured use of the tool will best serve our purposes.'

Ugusawnn ground his crystalline tusks in suppressed frustration. He was still bitterly disappointed that he would be unable to wield Destroyer himself. 'The Master Shaman will use the sigil according to the instructions of Attack Force Commander Tasatawnn and myself. That is the agreement!'

'Of course,' the shaman soothed him. ‘I would not dream of doing otherwise.'

The aged Conservator of Wisdom brought forth a sealskin sack attached to a baldric and gave it to Kalawnn. 'Here are the books of spells, colleague. Guard them as you guard the Stone of Stones. For if misfortune should strike either you or Ugusawnn, only these conjurations will enable your sigils to be transferred readily to another person. The great defeat of our people under the abominable Bazekoy resulted when
Great Stones held by dead warriors could not be quickly re-empowered.'

'It is understood,' the Supreme Warrior rumbled. He took hold of the delicate Gateway sigil and glanced up at the sky. Although the sun was shrouded in cloud, his talent perceived it and knew the hour. 'And now it is time for Kalawnn and me to go. The main force of our army is in position, and the warriors assigned to perform the Gayle Feint Maneuver are acting out their charade in the waters off Fort Kolm in Tarn even as we speak. The human Sovereign will learn of their presence shortly - to his eventual dismay - and lead the bulk of his army in the wrong direction.'

All four Eminences gave thunderous chuckles at the thought of the foe's upcoming abasement. Then the First Judge and the Conservator moved away from the other two, bowed their crested heads in salute, and murmured, 'Travel well, and may good fortune attend you.'

Kalawnn and Ugusawnn showed their glittering teeth in broad smiles. Then the Supreme Warrior intoned Subtle Gateway's spell, and both Salka vanished in a soundless flash.

The First Judge sighed. 'If only we had been able to obtain more raw mineral from the second Moon Crag! The future of our race for years to come rests on those two Great Stones - and their wielders.'

'Take a long view,' the Wise One urged. 'We endured defeat for a thousand years, and only now have we begun to reconquer our island. If there should be a setback . . . remember that winter gives way to spring. And snows, even on lofty mountaintops, can melt again.'

* * *

The air was windless and chill in the foothills around Castle Direwold that morning, and the thin skin of ice that had encrusted puddles and water-buckets in the great encampment of the Northern Wing of the Sovereign Army had
melted quickly as the sun climbed. But the Brother of Zeth in charge of weather-divination warned the generals that a snowstorm was crossing the Icebear Channel, and a wind-shift might carry it toward Frost Pass.

It was now near noontide of the fifth day since Conrig had suffered his injury, and the first time he had felt well enough to ride out among the troops. The wound had not festered, the doctors claimed that healing was proceeding well, and thus far it seemed as though the true nature of the disability remained secret.

'I'm well pleased with the look of the warriors,' the Sovereign said, as he and Sernin Donorvale and their top officers completed their inspection tour of the army units. 'All seem warmly clad, full of enthusiasm, and with their arms combat-ready. I trust they're getting plenty of good food.'

'A surfeit, if anything,' said the High Sealord, who rode beside Conrig. 'Supply trains from Tarn arrive daily with shipments of oatmeal, salt cod, smoked salmon and char, goat cheese, and venison. This is, of course, in addition to the wide variety of victuals brought up from the south.' He hesitated. 'Of course, neither Frost Pass nor Great Pass has yet to receive any snow.'

Conrig lowered his voice. 'And what of supplies from Didion?'

'Precious little, my liege,' Sernin admitted, 'now that you're no longer in a position to coerce Somarus and his merchant-lords in person. What resources Didion has left after the long stalemate are being sent to its warriors at Lake of Shadows, where perforce they are shared with the earl marshal's men. It was probably to be expected. Be assured that Tarn won't stint its obligation to its defenders - whatever their nation - so long as wagons or pack trains can breast Frost Pass. But I'd be remiss if I did not admit that
severe weather could prove to be as great an enemy to us as the Salka.'

‘I know,' Conrig murmured. 'And I hope to be able to do something about that problem very soon.'

Sernin raised one eyebrow. 'Would you care to elaborate on your remark, my liege?'

The king only laughed. 'I've got a surprise up my sleeve. I'll explain in good time.'

Sernin looked away and his response was wooden. 'Perhaps that time is already at hand . . . My field commanders and I have arranged for a special midday meal in the common mess tent we share with the Cathran general officers. I request that you join us today, my liege. There is an urgent question all of us must put to you.'

'Question?' Conrig frowned. 'What kind of question? Are you in some doubt as to my strategy? It's a little late for that!'

'Our concerns involve a wholly different matter. But let us suspend this discussion until after we've eaten.'

The Sovereign only picked at his food but consumed a quantity of mulled ale in moody silence, for the tenor of the High Sealord's earlier remarks had disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. Was it possible that Donorvale had found out the truth about Maude? What a catastrophe that would be! But who knew for certain that she was the would-be assassin aside from himself and Dyfrig? And the prince must know that his life would be forfeit if he opened his mouth . . .

Sernin Donorvale rose from his stool at the head of the U-shaped table, where he was seated next to Conrig, and prayed silence. After commanding the young armigers who had served the meal to leave the tent and keep everyone outside beyond earshot, the Tarnian leader looked down on the Sovereign and addressed him without diffidence.

'My liege, we thank you for visiting us here in camp, even though your doctors would have preferred you to remain within Castle Direwold until your injury is better healed. Let me go straight to the point. We of Tarn - and many great lords of your own nation - have recently learned a disturbing fact: that Conjure-King Beynor of Moss was not banished to eastern Didion, as we had been earlier informed. Instead he is here in disguise, sharing quarters in Castle Direwold with your own Corps of Alchymists. We cannot believe you're unaware of this. And so we request an explanation - with respect, but also with a firm determination to learn the truth.'

Sernin resumed his seat. The others at the table, Tarnians and Cathrans alike, were deathly silent.

Conrig felt a vast relief. Maude's identity, and the threat she still posed, remained secret. Beynor's presence, on the other hand, must necessarily have been revealed before long, as well as the uncanny weaponry he owned and had offered to share. So be it. He'd give the explanation that the leaders had demanded.

He rose to his feet with care, since his side was still exquisitely painful, and took a swallow of ale before speaking. 'High Sealord Sernin, my lords - Beynor is here at my invitation.'

Murmurs of disapproval came from many. The Sovereign ignored them and continued.

'On the very eve of our departure from Boarsden, he came to me with an astonishing proposal. Most of you are aware that Beynor lives under a curse. He offended the Beaconfolk somehow or other and was forbidden to use sigil sorcery on pain of being cast into the Hell of Ice. Nevertheless, the man is in possession of three so-called Great Stones - the most powerful of all moonstone sigils. He showed them to me. He offered them to me, saying he knew how to activate them. They would serve as very effective weapons against the Salka.'

Sensation! Shouted questions rang out from almost every throat until Sernin Donorvale's clarion voice restored order.

'Naturally,' Conrig resumed, 'I asked the Conjure-King what recompense he required. His only request was that I use the sigils to defeat the monsters - who had done Beynor a great wrong during the years when he dropped out of sight
-
and that I restore the devastated Kingdom of Moss and assure his position as its king, and the Sovereignty's loyal vassal.'

'You believed him?' the High Sealord said.

'I suspected he might want more - or even attempt some foul treachery, such as slaying me through the sigils. But as he explained their operation, my skepticism waned. Friends, you all know that I was once closely allied with Beynor's sister, the late Queen Ullanoth.'

Covert smirks and smothered chuckles.

'She helped me establish the Sovereignty, using her moonstone sorcery to control the weather and oversee the actions of my opponents. She told me how the magical amulets work
-
so I realized that Beynor was also telling me the truth about them. The sigils are inactive and useless until a certain spell conjures them to life. Then they are bonded to a single owner. No one else can use them. No one else even dares touch them, for they defend themselves with a fierce uncanny fire. Beynor knows the spell of activation, but he cannot use his three sigils himself. So he has offered them to me, believing I will use them in a right and just manner, as weapons against our common enemy.'