Sorcerer's Moon (64 page)

'That will be difficult -'

'Hardly. The Mossland expatriates are poverty-stricken, while you are well-supplied with treasure, are you not? It was reported to me that the material assets of Didion's late Lord Chancellor disappeared on the night he died. Kilian's two elder henchmen, the likeliest suspects in the theft, fled from Boarsden. Shortly afterward, Garon Curtling also disappeared. The bodies of the older men were found in a tavern privy near Twicken, and Garon returned to the castle and was taken into your service. Need I go on?'

Beynor said nothing.

'So long as you continue to render fealty to me, I'll support your claim to Moss's throne. In time, the Salka will be cast out of your country. The Sovereignty will assist all of its loyal vassals to rebuild towns laid waste by the monsters. Will you be one of those vassals?'

For an instant, black fury glared from the eyes of the thwarted sorcerer. Then he bowed his head. 'I will, my liege.' Until there is a new Sovereign more amenable to my persuasion.

'Very good. Now you may go.'

The Conjure-King turned and went out the door without another word, closing it behind him.

Conrig tucked the pouch of sigils into his wallet. 'My boys, sit with me for a few minutes. Then we all must go to bed, for the army marches to Tarn on the morrow to meet the foe. But I want to share my great vision of the future with you now, so that you may dream of how the wondrous events upcoming will affect your own lives. What I have obtained tonight from the Beaconfolk is more than the means for victory over the Salka. So very much more!'

Grinning in eager anticipation, Bramlow and Corodon seated themselves and listened to what their royal father planned to do. By the time Conrig had explained, the smiles of the two young men had gone glassy.

'You do see how the scheme comes to full fruition, don't you?' Conrig said. 'The key is Ice-Master, the sigil we thought was the least significant of the three. But that's because Beynor didn't understand its function. The Light named Stone-Keeper told me that the sigil not only freezes - it also thaws. Even if the summit of Demon Seat is once again shrouded in winter's ice and snow, the sigil can melt it and make the raw mineral available to us. Think what this means, lads. Just think of it!'

The princes could only stare at him, speechless.

'I can see you're both overwhelmed,' Conrig said kindly. 'And no wonder. We'll talk about.this later, when you've had time to take it all in. Goodnight, my dear sons. Sleep well.'

They nodded, saying together, 'And you, too, sire.'

As the brothers went to the chamber that they shared, Coro finally found his tongue and began to chatter giddily about the glorious scope of the Sovereign's vision.

Bramlow cut him off. 'Be silent! Don't you understand what's happened to Father? Are you a complete idiot?'

'Look here, you've no cause to speak to me like that!' the Heritor blustered. 'What the hell do you mean? A miracle has occurred and you act like it's some terrible disaster -'

Bramlow broke in. 'The Beaconfolk threw out an irresistible lure and Father swallowed it! They gave him power, Coro. Power that will give them control over him. But the Lights don't only want the High King. They want all of us.'

* * *

Deep beneath the permanent Ice of the Barren Lands, the One Denied the Sky groaned in ineffable sorrow.

'He has fallen. I knew it must happen, but how bitter is the actuality! Ironcrown will bring about his own ruin . . . but will the rest of humanity on the island also perish? Tell me, my friends!'

We see only paradox,
said the Likeminded
, and no clear inkling of the outcome. But the Conflict in the Sky Realm has now begun. We must all be vigilant - whatever happens on the Ground.

'Nevertheless,' the Source said, ‘I think I must attempt one last intervention, using the groundling soul called Snudge.'

* * *

Conjure-King Beynor lay rigid in his narrow bed, ranging on the wind in search of Deveron Austrey's dream. It took him half the night to find it, and more hours to gain entry, for the wild-talented one had greatly matured and his mental barriers were much stronger than they had been in earlier years.

Appealing to the former intelligencer was an act of utter desperation on Beynor's part. He was loath to admit it to
himself, but he could think of no easy way to kill Conrig and thus regain control of the sigils and the disk. Not with Bazekoy's blue pearl once again safeguarding the king from malignant sorcery, and the companies of magickers and guards armed to the teeth who would henceforth defend the royal person from physical assault.

There was also the most sinister realization of all: that Conrig Wincantor was clearly the Chosen of the Lights. Even if Beynor were able to kill the Sovereign, the Beaconfolk might then slay
him
in retaliation.

Another would have to do it. One with the ability to penetrate Conrig's various defenses, who might yet be willing to strike a bargain.

The only person who came to mind - improbably, but that was the irony of it! - was the former Royal Intelligencer. Deveron Austrey must certainly be bent upon vengeance against his former master. Why else had he suddenly emerged from hiding after sixteen years? Beynor thought it likely that Deveron had instigated the failed assassination attempt at Rockyford, and he had once wielded sigils. Perhaps he might be tempted to regain the power he had evidently lost. The gamble was a risky one, but it had to be chanced.. .

He invaded the ex-intelligencer's dream, using his unique natural talent, and laid out the facts of the situation, showing in detail how the death of Conrig Wincantor might redound to their mutual advantage.

When you wake, Deveron, you might think this dream was only fancy. In this you would be wrong. Bespeak me on the wind tomorrow and we'll arrange a place to meet. I'll be traveling on horseback, southbound on the Wold Road from Castle Direwold with a friend. Conrig has commanded me to return to my own exiled people, thinking he has no more need of my services. He has no notion of the Beaconfolk's plan for the subjugation of the human race. My
ancestor Rothbannon was able to outwit the Lights and prosper. Together, you and I can do the same.

'You've misjudged me, Conjure-King.'

I don't think so. Do you deny you returned to Blenholme to take revenge on Conrig? Do you deny you organized the failed attempt at assassination? I know you were prowling about the station that night!

'You know nothing about me or my intentions. Nothing! And you're a fool to think I'd ally with you in an attempt to take control of the High King's sigils through murder. In fact, I intend to notify his alchymical advisers of your evil scheme, so they can protect him.'

...
I
see.

'I'll guard my dreams more efficiently from now on, Beynor. Don't bother trying to invade them again. My answer to you will always be NO.'

Then perhaps we'll
meet again someday in hell, Deveron Austrey. May you arrive sooner than I.

* * *

Prince Corodon woke with a startled shout, leapt from his bed, and began to shake his brother's shoulder. 'Bram! Bram! Wake up!'

The novice, who had spent most of the night wallowing in sleepless dread, was slow to rouse. Seeing in the dark was not one of his stronger powers, but there was minimal light from a few living embers in the fireplace. 'Coro? It's not even dawn -'

'Bram, I heard Orry! He spoke to me, clear as a bell, whilst I was half-dozing.'

'Codswallop. You were dreaming.'

'No, listen! I think he talked to me on the wind. You know as well as I do that I've got some sort of puny talent. Suppose Orry has it, too? And what he told me . . . Bram, he said the Salka are invading at Terminal Bay in Didion! He said they
used sorcery to sink the ship he and Nyla and her mother were on. They also knocked down a tall rock pillar at the entrance to the bay.'

Bramlow groaned. 'The good Lights told me the monsters are coming ashore in Tarn, at the Firth of Gayle, not in Didion. Go away!' He pulled his pillow over his head.

Corodon ripped the pillow off his brother and flung it onto the floor. 'What if the sighting in Tarn is some sort of a ruse?'

Bram pulled himself up onto his elbows. 'What am I supposed to do? Run and tell the other magickers that you can hear windspeech?
Reveal that you're ineligible to sit Cathra's throne
?

The Prince Heritor was taken aback only for a moment. 'Tell Father! Say that you received the windspoken message from - from some dying person on Orry's ship. Or from the demons themselves! That might convince him to order the Brothers to do a windsearch of Terminal Bay. Perhaps they'll see the broken rock pillar, if nothing else. Bram, for God's sake! You have to do this.'

'Right. And when all comes to nothing, then I'm a silly ass who took a nightmare seriously.'

'But -'

'No, dammit, no!' Bram shouted. 'Stop pestering me and let me sleep. Tomorrow, I'll go to the Tarnian Grand Shaman and ask him to scry the bay as a special favor to me before we march out. Perhaps he will. Now hand me my pillow and go back to bed before I perform some magic that we'll both regret.'

Corodon did as he was told. ‘I did hear Orry's voice,' he muttered, slouching back to his own cot. 'I didn't imagine it and I didn't dream it.' He threw himself down, hauled the blankets to his chin, and lay there sleepless, staring into the dark.

Vra-Bramlow's robe, hanging from a wall peg, was made
of heavy wool, and there were many folds of cloth covering the inner pocket where the two lumps of moonstone were hidden. So neither prince noticed when they began to shine with a pulsating greenish glow.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The dinghy pulled up at the quay in Karum Port in the hour before dawn. The place was oddly silent and deserted, with small boats of all kinds tied at sagging docks and seven tall-masted corsairs moored in deep water. Only a few of the waterfront buildings had lighted windows, but flame-pots lined the battlements of the clifftop castle that reared up against the wan pink sky.

Little Klagus dropped the sail while Ree neatly guided the craft to the landing. Orrion jumped ashore and helped the boy tie up. Roused from sleep, the two women emerged from beneath the worn and filthy blanket that had sheltered them and peered about uncertainly in the half-light.

'Orrion, have we arrived?' Nyla asked.

'Yes, love. I'll help you to disembark.'

Ree held out her hand to him. 'The fare first,' she demanded.

He smiled. 'Well done. Here are the three silver pennies I promised. Will you have your meal right away, or after you unload your fish?'

'After,' the girl said, shooting a look at her brother, who had probably been about to say something else. 'We'uns'll
hafta wake up t'fishmonger. Market not be open yet. But tavern lights're on, so ye can go feed yer faces.' She pointed the way.

'Thank you for your kindness,' Countess Orvada said, alighting with some difficulty as her bulk rocked the boat. She still wore Orrion's jerkin, but had acquired a too-short tattered skirt and a pair of wooden clogs from the children's mother.

Nyla also murmured her thanks. Ree and Klagus paid no attention to her and went trotting off together into a dark lane between the buildings. 'Poor things! Orry, perhaps we should have hidden more coins in their hut before leaving.'

'That which I did leave is a small fortune to folk such as these. If I'd left more, it would only be an incentive for some rogue to cheat or harm them when they tried to spend it.' He stared out over the dead-calm water. 'My ladies, we must secure horses and hasten away from this place with all speed. I don't like the feel of it.'

'But not before we have some hot food,' the countess insisted. 'I hope the tavern-keeper will also be able to sell us some warmer clothing. Both Nyla and I are chilled to the bone. So must you be, sir, without your jerkin.'

'Follow me,' he said tersely. ‘I have good reason for wanting us away from the waterfront.' He set off for the tavern, which was at the far end of the harbor, and the women stumbled after on the rough cobblestones of the narrow quayside street.

'What reason?' Orvada demanded. 'Explain yourself!'

'The Salka are coming,' Nyla said in a low voice. 'Do as he says, Mother. I heard him and the children speaking of the creatures last night, whilst lying half-asleep.'

The countess gave a gasp and seized Orrion's left arm. 'Is it true?'

He stopped and turned with a face gone grim. 'Yes, madam. The young fishers didn't realize what they had seen earlier
in the evening. They thought the monsters were huge seals leaping about in the water. I didn't disabuse them for fear they'd refuse to carry us to Karum. But the presence of Salka sorcery is a logical explanation for the demolition of the sea-stack to block the channel, as well as the uncanny green flash that seems to have annihilated our ship without leaving a trace.'

'But there's no sign of the Salka having landed here,' Nyla said.

They're biding their time,' he told her. 'Probably waiting for their entire force to get into the bay before sinking the armed pirate vessels and swarming ashore in a massive strike. We've got to get to Dennech and convince Duchess Margaleva to have her wizard raise the alarm and summon the Sovereign Army. Come along now.'

'What about the poor people in this village?' Nyla said as they started out again. 'Shouldn't we warn them?'

'They'd laugh us to scorn if we tried,' the countess predicted cynically. 'Backcountry yokels like these mistrust strangers.'

'Nevertheless,' Orrion said, 'I'll try to tell them there's danger. But only after we've secured horses. If they take me for a madman, God knows what they'll do.'

When they reached the tavern. Onion's heart sank. He'd paid scant attention to the place when they'd passed it by yesterday on the way to the moorage of their Tarnian ship, not realizing the structure was a public accommodation. It looked more like a derelict farmstead, with a stable half in ruins and the main building canted sideways on a subsiding foundation. But the fading sign above the front door proclaimed WOLF LAMB, and ominously depicted the latter in the jaws of the former.