Sourcethief (Book 3) (7 page)

The two Ghelkan crypt-keepers shared a chuckle at
Jinzan's discomfiture.

"For one who would seek mastery of the dead,
you frighten easily," Aolyn teased. "Our bodies are naught but bits
of flesh packed around a Source, like mud caked upon a diamond. If you learn
nothing else today, take Loramar's First Lesson: I am my Source; all else is
but a tool of my Source."

Chioju lead them down steep stairways that wound
their way underground. The air was oppressive and heavy with dust. When they
reached the bottom, they came upon a wide corridor.

"What was that?" Jinzan asked. There had
been a noise; they had all heard it: a metallic rustling up ahead. Chioju
advanced into the corridor, leaving the illuminated area from the staff.

"See for yourself, Councilor Fehr. It is
nothing to fear," Aolyn said from close behind him. Jinzan could feel her
breath on the back of his neck; she had nearly run into him when he stopped.

He started forward once more. Along the sides of the
corridor, thin chains hung from the ceiling. Spaced a pace or so apart, they
ran all down the length and hung to shoulder height, with little balls on the
end of each. Jinzan stopped short once more and this time Aolyn
did
bump
into him from behind. The chains jingled again as the "balls" twisted
about to look at him. They were all eyes.

Aolyn shoved him roughly from behind.

"We can find you a teat to suckle from later if
you need to be calmed like a frightened infant. Move on," Aolyn scolded.

The end of the hallway came soon, but still not soon
enough for Jinzan's liking. If these were the tamest of Loramar's horrors, he
was not sure he could bear the ones he had yet to uncover.

"You are not so bad-looking, Councilor Fehr. I
almost regret not treating you with more respect," Aolyn remarked. Jinzan
heard a jingling from beside his head and turned to see two eyes looking him up
and down from adjacent chains. He shuddered.

The door at the end of the corridor was well-warded,
as promised. Standing in the macabre corridor, he felt comforted by the
familiar glow of runes in the aether-vision and lost himself for a time,
tracing them with his eyes (which were safely ensconced in their sockets, where
he liked them). He picked a rune at random and began examining how it was connected
to the runes about it, finding interactions and cross-links, modifiers and
amplification runes. Each of them he knew, drawn from the same basic runes that
had been handed down from the age of dragons. The ward was impressive in its
complexity, spread across a door half again his height and writ in characters
no larger than his thumbnail. It would take seasons to unravel it fully.
Testing it and seeing its reactions he might, by trial and experiment, divine
enough to disable it.

Jinzan had failed Megrenn. Zorren was burned and
overrun with Kadrin rabble. The High Council was in exile, their allies poised
beneath the headsman's axe. He had no time for academics, no time to research
how the Great Necromancer had protected his studies. He leveled the Staff of
Gehlen at the door.

"Stand well clear. Do not approach until I have
told you it is safe," Jinzan told his guides, the acolytes of the Cult of
Loramar.

"As you say, Councilor Fehr," Chioju
replied.

Jinzan jammed the carved wings of the Staff of
Gehlen against the warded door and activated its power. He watched as ward and
staff fought for aether—the staff to steal it, the ward merely to retain it.
The runes blazed as parts of the ward designed to resist attack sprang to life.
It had kept out all intruders for over a hundred winters, but the ward was
never created to withstand such an assault as Gehlen's creation could call
forth in Jinzan’s hands. The ward's aether flickered.

Jinzan let loose a tiny jolt of power, causing
cracks in the stone door. Even a small break in his assault on the ward's
defenses was enough for it to replenish itself. He renewed his efforts to drain
it.
Like pushing a rock uphill...

Upon the fourth jolt of force, the door crumbled.
The Grand Necromancer's sanctuary lay open before him.

"Congratulations, Heir of Loramar," Chioju
said. Jinzan did not turn to regard the acolyte. He stepped over the rubble of
the warded door, more interested in the works of his master.

* * * * * * *
*

"You waited well, human," the voice
resonated through Varduk's whole body. Jinzan had warned him what to expect
when dealing with dragons, but standing in the presence of Fr'n'ta'gur awed
him. Even twenty paces distant, the dragon loomed over him. He imagined that he
could walk upright within one of the great reptile's nostrils.

"Thank you for seeing me, mighty one,"
Varduk replied, thankful as well that the dragon preferred to show off by
speaking his own language fluently. "I have come on a matter of great
import to my people."

"Your people? I was not aware that you
had
people any longer," Fr'n'ta'gur said, chuckling at his own joke. Varduk
felt the ground vibrate beneath his feet. He looked up at the ceiling of the
great cavern, worried that the dragon's mirth might bring it down atop him.

"We are scattered, yes, but we fight on as best
we can. If you know of our plight though, may I assume as well that you know
our cause?" Varduk asked.

"Oh yes, I have heard of the demon who has
ransacked your lands. He slew one of our kind as well, the foolish Ni'hash'tk,
when she tried to take one of the Kadrins' cities for her whelp. That was an
idea put into her vacant skull by one of
your
fellows, I believe."

"It was an endeavor of common cause, mighty
one. One of our sorcerers was also lost that day for his own folly," Varduk
told the dragon. It seemed more diplomatic than to mention that Jinzan had been
one of the few to survive the assault on Raynesdark and that he had managed to
acquire the Staff of Gehlen in the bargain. "It demonstrates though that
the demon is a threat to your kind as well as mine. He is bent on conquest and
will not let your lands lie in peace."

"Then he will find his doom at that time. If he
finds it before then, it will not be my doing. You see, I remember him from
before his self-imposed exile. My goblins, generations ago by their reckoning,
once traded with Kadrin while he ruled beside four emperors. He understands our
power, and our position. If he attacks the dragonlands, it will not be one
lair's defenses against him, but a rallying of my kind against him. We are
unassailable," Fr'n'ta'gur proclaimed. Varduk was enough of a student of
history to know how dubious a claim that was, but was in no position to argue.

"We would be very generous if you were to come
to our aid in—"

"Do you know," Fr'n'ta'gur interrupted,
"why I had my goblins bathe and clothe you thus, before you were allowed
to enter my presence?"

Varduk paused. He felt a cold sweat on his brow.

"I assumed so that my scent would not ...
offend you, mighty one?"

"No."

Varduk waited in nervous silence as Fr'n'ta'gur's
neck stretched, craning around to regard him from all sides.

"It was to improve your taste, in case I caught
you lying to me."

Varduk managed half a scream before the dragon
snapped its jaws shut around him.

* * * * * * *
*

Human, awaken.

Narsicann obeyed, not by compulsion, but rather the
shock of the mental intrusion.

"Who is this?" Narsicann asked aloud to
the empty bedchamber. Even in the aether, he could see nothing that might have
addressed him.

Speak up. If you talk aloud your
mind is quieter,
the voice in his head scolded him. Narsicann looked to the small table where he
had deposited the few belongings he had brought with him. The Ghelkan speaking
helm was still there. Normal spells for speaking mind-to-mind worked only over
short distances. The owner of the mysterious voice had to be close by.

Who is this?
Narsicann asked, thinking the
words this time.

You wished to speak to me, I
believe.

Are you the demon king of Azzat?
Narsicann asked.

How many have you requested meetings
with since arriving in my kingdom, High Councilor Narsicann Tenrok?

Just yourself, Your Majesty.

I am Xizix. I will speak with you
because you mentioned two subjects that intrigue me, and that is two more than
usual most seasons. Come to me.

Now? Where do I go?

Yes, and follow my directions.
Take up the helm you brought with you. I wish to see that as well.

Narsicann had not packed for his trip. He had gone
to sleep in normal attire. He pulled on boots and cloak and ventured out into
the night.

Xizix directed his path. Narsicann found the streets
deserted before him, a sight he never saw in Zorren, which was bustling on some
level throughout all hours of the day. There was something ... unwholesome ...
about relinquishing mankind's grip on the land to nature's whim. Narsicann
noted that he was approaching the royal palace as he followed the demon king's
instructions.

You grow close now,
he heard as he came to the outer
wall that defined the palace grounds.
Very close.

Am I to enter the palace?
Narsicann asked.

"No," said a gravelly voice behind him.
Narsicann turned to see an ogre-sized creature with leathery, ashen skin. A
clawed hand closed around his neck—thwarted briefly by a shielding spell that
provided an eggshell's protection—and lifted him effortlessly into the air. The
demon's other hand picked up the speaking helm from where Narsicann had dropped
it while struggling to free himself. "I dislike finding spies in my
kingdom, but I would parlay with your master from a safe distance. How does
this helm work?"

Let me go, demon!
Narsicann screamed in his head,
unable to draw breath to do so with his voice.

"Bah, letting you go will not make the helm
work. I am no fool," Xizix joked, his grin a forest of dagger-pointed
black fangs. He turned the helm over, inspecting it. It seemed like it might
barely fit over the demon's head if he was without his two pairs of horns—one
pair jutting up and curling back, the other pair curling about and framing his
face, resembling a beetle's pincers.

Let me go and I will show you,
Narsicann thought desperately.

"How hard can it be?" Xizix asked. With an
easy twist of the wrist, he broke Narsicann's neck.

As the demon lumbered back to his palace, dragging
Narsicann's corpse by the neck as he went, his head reformed, becoming smaller
and smoother. The horns shrank and withdrew within the creature's skull and he
placed the helm atop his head.

* * * * * * *
*

The rooms beyond the warded door were more than a
repository, but less than a home. There were rooms for storage and meeting, but
the remainder was given over to study and research. There were libraries and
laboratories, but neither kitchen nor larder. It was a place for the study and
practice of death.

Jinzan had quickly browsed through each room,
finding small caches of unfamiliar magical items squirreled about, but had
settled in when he found Loramar's research library. There were a number of
tomes that the necromancer had obviously used for reference, but most were his
own works. Chioju and Aolyn took turns watching over him, for how long he knew
not, as he pored over the pieces to the puzzle. He hoped to discover what had
made the greatest opponent of Rashan Solaran so powerful.

"Aolyn, fetch me something to eat. I just
realized that I'm famished," Jinzan ordered. Since breaking the wards, the
flippant attitude of the two acolytes had been replaced by extreme deference.
It seemed that neither had expected him to succeed in breaking Loramar's wards.

"As you wish, Councilor Fehr." The young
Ghelkan sorceress departed, leaving him to the silence of the crypt. He was
content to read the personal diaries first, hoping they might guide him to
where to begin learning in earnest. It was slow going, reading in faded Ghelkan
script. His studies would quicken when he got to actual magical writings, since
they would be in the common rune language, which was used in some form by all
trained sorcerers.

"I have something for you, Councilor
Fehr," Chioju announced, returning in Aolyn's place. The hollow-eyed
acolyte carried a wicker cage with a songbird in it.

"I asked for a meal, not a companion, nor is
the air down here
quite
foul enough to need it as a warning. Go find me
a haunch of lamb or a bowl of stew, something substantial," Jinzan
commanded.

"There are things you do not need these books
to learn. There are some things we can teach you. Tonight, I will show you how
to sustain yourself on a creature's Source," Chioju replied. He held the
caged bird forth with a grin.

"No. Get gone and bring me
food
. You may
well know tricks I do not, and I
may
learn them in time, but tonight I
am tired and hungry, and I am more likely to kill you and the bird and decide
later which to eat, than I am to try to fill my belly with bird aether."