Sorcerer's Moon (63 page)

'Good,' Conrig said. 'Produce the sigils and tell me how to activate them. We'll need them at once. We've located the Salka horde.'

Beynor frowned at the king's peremptory manner. 'Indeed! Very well, I have the stones ready. It would be more respectful to the Great Lights if you knelt -'

'No. I'm the Sovereign. I'll stand before the Beaconfolk as I stand before God himself.' He rose to his feet.

'We can only hope that the Lights will understand royal protocol.' Beynor opened his belt-wallet, removed a small pouch, and tipped its contents onto the table. He unwrapped each moonstone from its covering and laid them out in a row. 'Which stone would you empower first?'

'Destroyer, of course.' Conrig's dark eyes flashed.

'Of course.' Beynor smiled thinly. 'Just remember that using it safely will require a certain technique that only I can teach you. Any attempt on your part to -'

'I'll never harm you unless you play me foul, Conjure-King. Get on with your instructions. I'll need to activate all of the sigils.'

Beynor's glance flicked to the two watching princes. 'Are you certain you want these young men to witness the empowerment?'

'No one will witness the empowerment,' Conrig stated adamantly. 'Once you've taught me how to conjure the spell, I intend to take the moonstones out onto the balcony and say the words under the stars, alone. Whatever will be, will be. But only I will speak to the Great Lights.'

For a moment, Beynor was taken aback. Then he shrugged. 'As you wish.' He began to rehearse the king in the questions the Keeper of Sigils would ask and the proper responses he must give in the Salka language.

'But why must I address these Beaconfolk in an alien tongue? I thought they were infinitely wise. Don't they understand the language that all of us on the island speak?'

‘I can only tell you what was written down by Rothbannon, the first Conjure-King. He emphasized that proper pronunciation of these Salka words was vital. Speak them imperfectly and you may pay with your life. Now -have you everything memorized?'

'Yes,' Conrig growled.

'Be careful to touch the disk to only one sigil at a time. You may expect to suffer a certain amount of pain during the activation. It's the Lights' way of testing your resolve, your willingness to pay the price for their sorcery.'

'Huh! I'll pay any price to save the Sovereignty.' He swept up the three sigils and dumped them back into their pouch. The disk he carried in his hand. 'Stay inside, no matter what happens. My sons will see that you obey.'

'Your excessive caution is quite unnecessary,' Beynor said with dignity. 'But suit yourself.' He sat down in one of the chairs beside the table and helped himself to ale from the silver ewer. One of the wolfhounds gave a gruff snort, then settled back into slumber.

The door leading to the balcony had only a small glazed window. In truth, Conrig wanted no witness to his first attempt at high sorcery because he was afraid he might botch it and suffer another public humiliation like the one at Rockyford.

I'd rather perish in a bolt of astral lightning, he thought, than have that snotty bastard and my boys behold me in ignominy!

The moon was down and the sky was diamond-spangled. Even better, the aurora borealis had appeared right on cue, exceptionally splendid for so early in the autumn. It had to be an omen . . .

He removed Destroyer from the pouch and placed the other sigils on the balcony railing to wait their turn. Then he pressed the little wand firmly against the gold-framed moonstone rondel.

The stones felt icy cold. As they began to glow, a sudden pang of agony lanced his heart and he gasped aloud. The pain swelled and he felt his vision of the castle battlements and the surrounding dark countryside dimming. He hung suspended in the starry void. Only the Sky remained, with a single irascible face painted upon it in crimson Light.

CADAY AN RUDAY
? The being roared in his mind's ear, asking what he wanted.

Conrig bellowed the words he'd learned. 'GO TUGA LUV KRO AN AY COMASH DOM!' Which meant, 'May the Cold Light grant me power.'

A frightful stab of pain smote him and he almost lost hold of the stones. The face seemed to snarl as it asked him,
KO AN SO
? Wanting to know who he was.

Using all his strength, he straightened his racked body and cried out the reply. 'CONRIG WINCANTOR, CALLED IRON-CROWN, THE SOVEREIGN OF HIGH BLENHOLME! AND WHO THE DEVIL ARE YOU?'

The Light's face appeared to swell with rage. And then it began to laugh. The sound was shattering, like a gigantic bell tolling, and the stars seemed to cringe and pale before its force. Then the Sky entity fell silent, staring at Conrig, and the stars regained their brightness.

'Well?' the king said in resignation. 'Have I insulted you? I didn't mean to. But go ahead, strike me dead for impudence if you must. The Conjure-King will instruct my son to address you with the proper deference when he tries to empower these sigils.'

WE WILL NOT
STRIKE YOU DEAD. NOT
THIS TIME. WE HAVE WAITED LONG FOR A HUMAN OF YOUR POTENTIAL TO APPROACH US. AS A SIGN OF OUR FAVOR, WE WILL ADDRESS YOU IN YOUR OWN LANGUAGE . . . YOU ASK WHO I AM, BUT
WE HAVE NO NAMES AS YOU GROUNDLINGS DO. I AM THE STONE-KEEPER, THE ONE WHO ACCEPTS OR REJECTS THOSE WHO PETITION TO SHARE OUR POWER.

'Well then, Stone-Keeper, do you accept me? Will you let me wield Destroyer and the other two Great Stones against our Salka enemies? You may squeeze what pain you must from me in payment -'

WE WANT
MORE FROM YOU THAN THAT.

Conrig felt himself go numb; all sensation fled, leaving him with the terrible impression that his soul had been extracted from his body. 'Am I dead?' he asked. 'Have you slain me?'

CERTAINLY NOT. WE ONLY WISH TO HAVE YOUR COMPLETE ATTENTION. WE ESTEEM YOU AND OTHER STRONG PERSONS OF YOUR GROUND REALM. WE WISH NUMBERS OF YOU TO EMBRACE SIGIL SORCERY WHOLEHEARTEDLY, AS THE SALKA ONCE DID. OF LATE, THE GREAT
AMPHIBIANS HAVE DISAPPOINTED US. THEY HAVE BECOME TIMID AND APATHETIC, HESITANT
TO MAKE THE NECESSARY SACRIFICE REQUIRED TO OBTAIN THE GREATEST
POWER. AND SO WE TURN TO YOU AND YOUR KIND, OFFERING OUR GIFTS.

Conrig was thunderstruck as the Light's meaning became apparent. Finally he said, 'But if you give sigils such as Destroyer to many human beings, we'll end up fighting each other to the death! We're not a peaceful race, Stone-Keeper.'

YOU MISUNDERSTAND, CONRIG WINCANTOR. CERTAIN GREAT
STONES ARE FIT
ONLY FOR GREAT
PERSONS TO WIELD. THEY ARE NOT
FOR THE STUPID, THE VAINGLORIOUS, OR THE VENAL - NOR ARE THEY FOR PERSONS WHO PLACE THEIR GOALS ABOVE OUR OWN. THERE ARE HUNDREDS OF DIFFERENT
KINDS OF MINOR SIGILS YOUR LESSER PEOPLE MIGHT
EMPOWER AND USE: LONG-SPEAKERS, HEALERS, BEAST-BIDDERS, SHAPECHANGERS, FLAME-STONES ... SO MANY MORE. AND YOU WOULD BE THE ONE TO BESTOW THEM ON YOUR TALENTED ONES -AT
THE APPROPRIATE TIME, OF COURSE. BUT
HUMANS MUST
FIRST
PROVE THEMSELVES MORE WORTHY THAN THE SALKA, MORE WILLING TO . . . PARTICIPATE IN A CERTAIN CONTEST
WE LIGHTS ESTEEM.

'Can you explain your proposal further?'

LATER. AFTER YOU, CONRIG IRONCROWN, PROVE YOURSELF TO BE TOTALLY WORTHY.

'What happens now? I've already asked you to grant me power. Do you intend to accept my petition?'

THASHIN
AH
GAV. WE ACCEPT. THE THREE GREAT
STONES ARE ALIVE AND BONDED TO YOU ALREADY. CONJURING THEM WILL REQUIRE NO SALKA INCANTATION. SIMPLY COMMAND THEM TO DO YOUR BIDDING. THERE WILL BE A PROPORTIONAL PAIN-PRICE -BUT
PERHAPS NOT
ONE SO SEVERE AS WE HAVE DEMANDED OF OTHERS. WE WISH TO ENCOURAGE YOU.

The Light went on to explain the functions of the different stones and their limitations. Conrig could hardly believe his
good fortune. Beyond any doubt, these three sigils alone would enable him to rule the world. And the raw material for making more of them was now easily within his grasp . . .

'Thank you, Stone-Keeper. MO TENGALAll
SHERUV.'

WE HAVE ONE LAST
ADMONITION FOR YOU: DO NOT
TELL THE ACCURST
ONE OF OUR BARGAIN - AND DO NOT
RETURN THE MOONSTONE DISK TO HIM. HE IS A DANGER TO YOU AND TO US.

'Beynor may be cursed by you Lights, but he's still a powerful sorcerer. He'll force me to hand over the disk, retaining power over who inherits them upon my death.'

NO, HE WILL NOT. WE HAVE BONDED THE DISK TO YOU,
AS WAS DONE SEVEN HUNDRED OF YOUR YEARS AGO WITH THE ORIGINAL THREE DISKS VOUCHSAFED TO THE FIRST
HUMAN TO WHOM WE PROPOSED THIS BARGAIN, ONE VRA-DARASILO LEDNOK. THAT
MISERABLE COWARD! ULTIMATELY, HE WAS AFRAID TO USE THE TROVE OF SIGILS WE GAVE HIM. HE ONLY WROTE BOOKS ABOUT
THEM -THE FOOL - AND WHEN HE DIED, SO DID THE BONDING OF HIS MOONSTONE DISKS. WE OFFERED DARASILO A SHORTCUT
TO POWER. HE REJECTED IT. WE HOPE YOU ARE WISER.

'Be assured that I am. You have given me what I longed for all my life. I'll use the sigils well. Bonding the disk to me was a master stroke.'

WE THOUGHT
SO.

By allowing Conrig to command the sigils in his own tongue, and making it impossible for Beynor to seize the disk, the Beaconfolk had effectively barred the Conjure-King from exerting any significant influence over the Sovereignty. Beynor no longer had any leverage, to impose his will.

Conrig said, 'Will you allow me to return to my own world now, and fight my war?'

YOU ARE DISMISSED . . . UNTIL THE TIME WE MUST
SPEAK AGAIN. THEN WE HOPE TO HAVE AN EXCELLENT
NEW HUMAN ALLY FOR YOU.

'Who?'

YOU WILL KNOW HIM WHEN YOU SEE HIM.

The eerie face of Stone-Keeper vanished, and the king realized that his own body belonged to him again. He stood on the balcony and felt no pain. A cold breeze blew from the north and the air smelled of approaching snow - but he had the remedy for that! The finger-ring called Weathermaker glowed with subtle life on the railing, as did the equally useful Ice-Master sigil lying beside it.

But the Great Stone that Conrig most coveted was safe in his hand: Destroyer, the key to victory against the invading monsters. He lifted the fragile wand, wondering if he dared to test it.

Not here, he thought with a smile. Inside, while that whoreson Beynor watches!

He put the disk and the sigils into their pouch and re-entered the solar. Beynor looked up, his gaunt face without expression. 'And so, my liege, have you empowered the sigils?'

'Didn't you scry me through the doorway - or overhear my conversation with the Light?'

'I could perceive nothing,' the Conjure-King replied coldly. 'Indeed, I feared you'd been snatched away in some tragic uncanny mishap. I attempted to go to your aid . . . but your sons restrained me.'

Bram and Coro stood on either side of the sorcerer. The Prince Heritor held a drawn broadsword and the novice had the reliquary lifted high in both hands.

'I invoked the "All Harmful Spells Avaunt" command. Father,' Bramlow said, 'and Coro restrained the Conjure-King physically.'

'Good lads,' the king said. 'You may stand down now. His Majesty means me no harm.'

'Certainly not,' Beynor said easily. But his fists were tightly clenched at his sides.

'Father, the sigils -' Bramlow ventured.

Conrig strode to the table. One by one he took the three small carvings from the pouch and laid them out. The princes gave cries of awe.

'They glow. They're alive!' Corodon exclaimed, extending his hand.

'No!' Conrig shouted, seizing the lad's wrist. 'Touch a living sigil that's not bonded to you without the owner's permission and it will kill you.'

The Prince Heritor staggered back. ‘I didn't mean -'

'I know. It's all right. . . and I have one more piece of moonstone to show you.' He extracted the shining disk from the pouch and held it up for Beynor to see. 'A special favor was granted to me. This empowering disk, which summons the guardian Light when touched to an inactive sigil, is now also bonded to me. No one else may control it.'

'No!' Beynor cried. 'The Lights wouldn't do that!'

'But they did,' the king said. 'It seems that they don't trust you, Conjure-King. I was commanded not to give the disk to you.'

'But, my liege! You will still need my help to use the sigils safely, and you swore -'

'The oath is void. The Light who talked to me explained how each sigil works. Furthermore, I am allowed to conjure their power using my own language - not that of the Salka.'

'Would you care to prove that, my liege?' The question was insolently delivered, but Conrig only gave a gracious nod.

'Baron Jordus Direwold has an appalling taste in silver hollow ware, don't you think? That ewer is particularly ugly. And the ale is sour.' The king pointed the moonstone wand at the container. 'Destroyer, obliterate that thing, but harm nothing else.'

There was a sharp explosion. A cloud of luminous green steam with a pungent odor bloomed, then dissipated to nothing. The two wolfhounds sprang to their feet and began to howl their hearts out.

Conrig laughed. After a shocked instant, the princes joined in.

Beynor made a sharp gesture that quieted the dogs. Then he spoke in a strained voice. 'Do you mean to say that you are repudiating our agreement to use the sigils to mutual advantage?'

'Not at all.' The Sovereign began to gather the moonstones and put them into the pouch. 'You shall have the throne of Moss, as you requested, but I no longer require your services as a royal adviser. You and your crony must leave this camp tomorrow at dawn. Horses will be placed at your disposal. Go to eastern Didion. Find your former subjects who have settled around Incayo and the adjacent towns. Ingratiate yourself so they will accept you as their leader.'