Sorcerer's Moon (53 page)

'Great God of the Heights and Depths,' Maude whispered. 'Is it really you?' She lowered the bow.

'In the flesh - although not so anyone can notice. I don't want to show myself. There's still enough light left for a casual observer to spot me and wonder why I'm prowling abroad by night. We mustn't take chances. Are you ready to meet Prince Dyfrig?'

'Of course! But how -'

'I wear a moonstone sigil called Concealer. It uses Beaconfolk sorcery to render me, and persons near me, invisible. It will do so for you, my lady. Is there aught you'd take with you?'

She was taken aback, having despaired of seeing her son and now finding that hope rekindled in such an amazing fashion. But another thought came to her, more somber. 'Only let me remove this opal necklace and buckle on my swordbelt, Sir Deveron. I won't go unarmed into a place that harbors Conrig Wincantor.'

'There's no need to worry. I've already arranged things for the safety of you and the prince.'

But she armed herself anyway, tucking her gauntlets into her belt. "Very well. Let us be off now.'

'I'm going to take your hand,' he said. 'Don't be startled.'

She could not help shuddering at the spectral grip of a damp glove. 'What must I do?'

'Only stay close to me, my lady, or risk popping suddenly into view. Here we go: FASH
All!'

One moment she was poised uncertainly with one hand extended, and then, as he pronounced the strange words, her own body vanished. She moaned. 'Oh, how queer a feeling! I'm bodiless, yet substantial. Sir - I don't think I dare move. I'd surely trip and fall.'

Deveron chuckled. 'Being invisible can be unnerving at first, but you'll soon get used to it. Here . . . take hold of this strap. It's fastened to my belt. Just let me draw you along. We'll walk slowly back to the road and use it to approach the station.'

'But what if the troops -' She broke off the protest, realizing the silliness of what she'd been about to say. 'But they can't see us!' A small bubble of giddy laughter escaped her lips.

'Not if you remain within four ells of me. It's not even necessary for us to touch - but safest, since you have no other way of judging where I might be. Remember, though, that we can still be heard and felt. We're not phantoms and we must still move with caution, especially when other people are about.'

He was pulling her after him, and she found herself tripping and stumbling and cursed her own ineptitude. It seemed as though she were detached from her legs, unable to control them. She felt humiliated and frightened at the abrupt loss of a function she'd always taken for granted. Panic began to paralyze her. If she bungled this strange magical business, she'd bring Sir Deveron into mortal danger as well as herself. And Dyfrig -

‘I can't do it,' she wailed, overcome with vertigo. 'God help me, I feel as though I'll fall at any moment. I'm so sorry.'

They stopped. She heard his voice say gently, 'My lady, take my hand again. Close your eyes and trust me to lead you for a while. We'll go slowly. There's plenty of time.'

She tried it - and miraculously, all went well.

* * *

Saying that he was in mourning for his brother, the Sovereign ate in his sleeping room that evening rather than in the station's privy dining room with High Sealord Sernin, Beorbrook, and the other nobles and high officers. Only Vra-Bramlow and Prince Heritor Corodon shared his meal.

Lord Telifar Bankstead himself served up the roast beef and mushrooms, wild duck baked with pickled cabbage and apples, and mashed buttered turnips with raisins of the sun and walnuts, setting heaped stoneware plates before Conrig and his sons. There were also dishes of late greens dressed with verjuice, bacon-fat, and tarragon, and a platter of curd-cheese pastries. After pouring bumpers of the hearty brown ale that was the station's pride, the Lord of Chamber bowed.

'When you're finished, sire, if you summon the guards stationed at the end of the corridor, they'll carry the dishes away. I bid you good night.' He withdrew from the room.

Conrig and the young men fell to, famished after the long day's ride, saying little until they pushed aside their plates and started on the salad.

The king helped himself to more ale. 'You'll both be interested to know that the Brackenfields and your brother Orrion have arrived safely in Dennech-Cuva. The Tarnian merchant ship that is to carry them from Karum to Cathra has been slightly delayed, but it's expected to arrive within a few days. Lord Hale will see the others off, then rejoin my army. We'll have sore need of the Lord Lieutenant's services, with the constable lost to us.'

'It was a strange happenstance, that,' Bramlow observed. 'Certain Brethren in the Corps of Alchymists discussed it with me as we made our way here. Not only Lord Tinnis, but also his Guard Captain and two of his most trusted men have vanished. The Brother scriers who helped in the search found nothing new, save two horses with the Catclaw brand wandering at the western edge of the marshes, and a dead
mule that had been disemboweled by a wild boar far back amongst the quagmires. None of the beasts had saddles or harness.'

'I think Catclaw and the others are slain,' the king said, frowning as he toyed with the leaves of cress and dandelion. 'But Zeth only knows by whom and for what reason. I've decided to appoint Baron Wanstantil Cloudfell as the new Lord Constable once the army reaches its new staging point at Direwold.'

'But he's such a fop!' Corodon grimaced in distaste. 'He adorns himself like a peacock, flaunting his wealth . . . and he's never taken a wife or leman. We know what that must mean.'

'Cloudfell is a brave and clever leader, esteemed by his knights and warriors,' Conrig said in a tone full of authority. 'He fought valiantly at my side during the Battle of Holt Mallburn, and his overlord, Duke Munlow Ramscrest, holds him to be unflinchingly loyal to the Sovereignty. If you are to be king, Coro, you must become a wiser judge of men.'

'Yes, sire,' the prince mumbled. 'I realize that I have much to learn.'

'If you know that,' the king said more easily, 'then your education is well begun.'

‘I could help you, Coro.' Bramlow made the tentative offer, seeing an opportunity to remain closer to the Heritor and thus fulfill the plea of his mother. 'I tutored our brother Orrion in such things. An alchymist is schooled in the judging of character as an aspect of the healing arts. One cannot fully understand the working of the human body without also knowing that of
the mind.'

'I'd welcome your counsel,' Corodon said with a sigh. 'And please begin by giving me insight into the quirks and crochets of women! After treating me in a most winsome and amatory fashion last night, Princess Hyndry looked down her nose
and refused me a goodbye kiss and a token to carry into battle as I rode out of the castle this morning.'

The king laughed in spite of himself.

Bramlow said, 'Dear brother, I'm the last one to instruct you in such mysteries. But perhaps the lady was vexed with herself for having behaved in a manner she never would have thought possible earlier. Don't be concerned. Her mood will likely pass. My teachers at Zeth Abbey have told me that mutability is part of the feminine temperament.'

‘I gave Hyndry a love philtre I got from Beynor,' Coro confessed to his brother. 'After first getting permission from Father, of course. It worked a treat - but how will I know whether its effects be more than passing, if the princess and I are long separated by this war?'

'You can only wait and hope,' the novice said, hiding his astonishment at the revelation. ‘I should think, however, that the Conjure-King would want to impress His Sovereign Grace, and thus would provide you with the most powerful potion in his grimoire.' His expression grew more thoughtful. 'It's rather a pity we can't question Beynor about its efficacy. All the same, after hearing what the older Brethren said about him, I confess I'm glad he was banished.'

'He is not banished,' the king said. ‘I decided that his services might be required in the upcoming campaign. He travels with us in disguise. I expert both of you to keep your mouths shut about this. If certain of my lords were to learn of it, there'd be trouble. Are we understood?'

'Yes, sire,' the princes said.

Bramlow saw a flicker of guilt cross Corodon's face and thought: He knows something about this! I'll pry the truth from him somehow.

They all began to nibble the flaky curd-cheese pastries. The king poured small noggins of malt spirits for each of them.

'My boys, I know you're weary, but I have a serious matter to discuss with you before you retire tonight.' Conrig opened his belt-pouch, took out the two pieces of raw moonstone, and held them up so that they glinted in the candlelight.

Bramlow gave a sharp inhalation.

'You both know what these are,' the king continued. 'One I took from you, Coro, after you finally told me the truth about what happened to Orrion on the summit of Demon Seat. The other I found upon the body of the late Royal Alchymist as I tried in vain to revive him.' He paused for some minutes, rolling the stones on the table in front of him while staring at them intently. 'Today, while I rode through the rain and contemplated the tribulations facing our army, my mind kept returning to these chunks of mineral. It was almost as though my dead brother were trying to tell me something about them. Finally, I realized what it was. If the Sky demons - who seem not to be the malignant Beaconfolk who empower sigils for the Salka - were willing to grant a favor to Orrion, channelling their magic through the outcropping on the mountaintop, then they might be induced to repeat their generous gesture to one who invoked them through these smaller stones. What do you think?'

‘I supposed the very same thing, sire,' Corodon said eagerly. 'This is why I brought back the souvenir rocks in the first place.' He prudently kept silent about his earlier suggestion to the king that the benign demons might also channel power scathelessly through Beynor's sigils if they chose.

Conrig turned to Vra-Bramlow. 'And what is your opinion? As a Brother of Zeth, you should be more familiar with high sorcery.'

'Sire, I can only remind you that
invoking the Sky beings cost Orry his sword-arm. The person who dares to ask the demons for another favor might also pay an unexpectedly great price.'

'The favor I would ask,' Conrig said, 'is to know whether the principal Salka host plans to come ashore in Tarn or in Didion. This information is crucial to the defense of our island. It would render unnecessary the division of our forces. Yet thus far none of our windsearchers can tell me anything of the brutes' whereabouts. Their progress is strangely unscryable, even to the most powerful Tarnian shamans. This is why . . . I'm inclined to take the risk.'

Corodon's face had gone still. In a halting voice, he said, 'Father, let me do it.'

The king let a small smile of satisfaction touch his lips. It was what he had expected of the impetuous Heritor. But before Conrig could speak, Bramlow surged to his feet.

'No! If anyone does this thing, it must be me. Forgive me, sire - but neither you nor Coro should endanger your lives, not even to obtain this vital intelligence. You're both too important to the Sovereignty. But I'm only a novice magicker, quite inconsequential. I'll invoke the Sky demons gladly. Right now, if you wish.'

'Perfect!' Corodon crowed.

The king said, 'Try it, then. But first ask them what the favor will cost. You may decide whether or not to pay their price.'

Bramlow nodded, realizing that his choice was no choice at all. He knew exactly how he'd been manipulated, just as Coro had. But for his mother's sake and that of his brother, he held out his hand. The king gave him the pieces of mineral and he crossed to the other side of the room. 'I'd rather do this outdoors, with you both at a safe distance, but I suppose that's not possible.'

'Nothing happened to you and me during Orry's miracle.' Corodon gave uneasy reassurance. 'Do you remember the words he used?'

'I'll never forget them. Now please be silent.'

The novice pulled the hood of his crimson leather chaperon over his head and gave a brief touch to his silver gammadion, even though it was not imbued with the fulness of Saint Zeth's power. Then he pressed the two chunks of moonstone together and began to speak under his breath.

Every candle in the room was abruptly extinguished. Corodon gave a great start and gulped back a cry of fear.

The Sovereign whispered, 'God's Teeth! The things are glowing.'

'The Demon Seat formation also glowed when Orry touched it,' the Heritor said. 'He later told us that it became unbearably hot -'

'Hush!' Conrig hissed. 'Have respect for Bram's bravery, if nothing else.'

Corodon subsided, eyeing his older brother with resentment. Later, Father would find out which of them was the braver . . .

The novice was motionless, a statue lit by eerie votive radiance. If he addressed the Lords of the Sky he did not use his normal voice. The only sounds in the room came from the blazing wood in the small fireplace and the creaking of the two chairs as Conrig and the prince eased their tense bodies.

Finally, after what seemed an endless time, the green glow winked out abruptly, leaving only firelight illuminating the room. Vra-Bramlow uttered a deep sigh, pushed back his hood, and returned to the table.

'Well?' the Sovereign demanded brusquely.

'They answered my questions. They asked no parlous penalty of me.' Bram placed the chunks of moonstone on the table and slowly sat down. ‘I seemed to float in a vast blackness, and saw numbers of sad, ghostly faces shining dimly among the stars. They were Lights, but not the evil Beacons - just as Lord Stergos opined. They seemed hesitant but kind.'

'What did they tell you?' Conrig did not bother to hide his impatience. 'Where will the monsters land?'

'It was the first thing I asked. They replied that the Salka have contrived to conceal their movements and squelch the threads of their windspeech through a novel meld of talent. This is why our scriers can't find them. Also, since the Salka are beings with free will, who have a multitude of choices open to them, not even the Lights can determine what the creatures intend to do.'