Читать книгу Ironcrown Moon: Part Two of the Boreal Moon Tale - Julian May - Страница 8

The prisoner in Zeth Abbey filled the hours of Solstice Eve with his usual quiet activities. In the early morning, before the sun made the enclosed garden too hot, he pulled weeds, and carried endless cans of water from the well in his strong arms so that the roses would not flag, and gathered whatever things Brother Herbalist had requested. Then, after eating alone in his little apartment as became one banished from the routine of the Brethren, he retired to the great library to study. His choice of materials sometimes surprised the librarian, but Father Abbas had decreed that all things were to be at his disposal, as though he were still a Doctor Arcanorum in good standing in the Mystical Order of Saint Zeth.

After supper, as he often did, he held conversation in the bee-yard with his three friends; the clouds of busy, harmless insects ensured that no unwanted person would overhear their scheming. When the night-bell rang, he took to his bed more eagerly than usual and slept, and dreamed…and opened his mind to the invader.

Kilian. Vra-Kilian Blackhorse. Do you hear me?

‘Finally, Beynor! I’m relieved to hear from you at last. You really should have contacted me earlier. I was becoming concerned. But never mind. My men in Cala Palace are ready. By the end of Midsummer Day, if all goes as I’ve planned, they will have escaped from the city with the Trove of Darasilo! I hope that matters go similarly well with you.’

There’s a serious problem. I need you to postpone the Cala mission. Just for a short time.

‘Impossible. My agents were given their orders months ago. By now all the arrangements are in place. It’s imperative that the attack occurs early tomorrow, while those at the palace are sleeping off the previous day’s festivities.’

Kilian, I need more time to complete my research here at the Dawntide Citadel. A week at the most. I’ve laid my hands on a document in the Salka archives that could be vitally important. But translating it is no easy matter. When I skimmed the thing, I could understood only about one word in five. But I deciphered enough to know its tremendous significance. It dates from before Bazekoy’s Conquest!

‘I couldn’t stop the Cala mission from proceeding, even if I should want to. Vra-Garon has been sent off to Elkhaven on business by Abbas Noachil, and is also carrying out an important assignment of mine. He won’t be back here until tomorrow. There’s no one else at Zeth Abbey whom I can trust to windspeak my agents, and it’s too late to send them a message by conventional means.’

Kilian, I could windspeak your men and tell them to hold off. It wouldn’t be easy from this great distance, but I could do it. They’d listen and obey if you give me their signatures and the command password now, instead of waiting until –

‘No! You’ll bespeak and windwatch them only when the trove is safely in my hands. Do you take me for a fool?’

You misunderstand

‘And don’t think you can circumvent my safeguards against your coercive talents by invading my agents’ dreams! You’ll never countermand my orders that way. The Brothers were trained in my own somnial defensive techniques before they ever left the abbey. No one can speak to them in dreams unless they consent. But I daresay you’ve already found that out for yourself, or you wouldn’t be trying to trick me!’

Kilian, please believe that I’d never betray our agreement and try to seize the trove for myself.

‘Of course you would, my boy. Neither of us has ever trusted the other. That will never change until we’ve successfully divided Darasilo’s sigils, and overcome the obstacles that now prevent either of us from utilizing their sorcery.’

Just listen to me. Let me explain why I need more time. I don’t want to offer our bargain to the Salka until I learn more about the Unknown Potency’s effect upon the Beaconfolk themselves. The stone does more than liberate sigils from the Lights’ control and abolish bonding. I’m certain of that. This ancient document tablet that I’ve found may reveal why the Potency was created in the first place. There’s something in it about an intention to sever the Lights’ ability to meddle in the affairs of earthbound beings such as ourselves.

‘Depriving us of Beaconfolk sorcery altogther? I don’t much like the sound of that!’

I’m more interested in the possibility that the tablet might confirm what we’ve only assumed must be true – that the Unknown’s power may enable me to utilize liberated sigils with impunity!

‘And so you shall. I thought you were already convinced of it. If the Lights lose their ability to feed on the pain of sigil-wielders, if they’re compelled to deliver sorcery without demanding a price, there is no way they can harm you. Their curse is effectively annulled.’

I must make certain What good will my half of Darasilo’s Trove do me if the curse still holds good? I’ll tell you one thing: if I can’t have mine, I won’t help you get yours. And neither will I free you of your iron gammadion!

‘Calm yourself.’

Once I leave Dawntide Citadel, I’ll never have access to these Salka archives again.

‘Then take the tablet in question along with you when you go. Puzzle out its contents later, on the voyage to Didion.’

I can’t take the bloody thing away. I can hardly lift it. It’s a stone slab the size of a cartwheel, jam-packed with inscriptions, and if the monsters knew I’d stolen it they’d probably slaughter me out of hand…or do worse.

‘Copy the wording.’

I haven’t the proper materials to make a rubbing, and there’s too much on the tablet to simply write it down. The only parchment available in this benighted place are the fragile sheets I make myself from baby sealskin. I have only a few of those left.

‘Don’t forget that Darasilo’s Trove includes two arcane books written in the Salka tongue, in addition to the large collection of inactive stones. The books’ subject matter deals with sigils, beyond a doubt. I could tell that from the illustrations, even though I’m unable to read the Salka language. One of those books may very well contain the information you seek.’

Why should I take a chance? I’m going to postpone leaving here until I translate the tablet. That’s final. You do as you please and be damned.

‘Beynor, you’ve forgotten the other important reason why we dare not delay. The king of Didion and his family will begin their progress upriver from Holt Mallburn on the day after the Solstice, as they do every year. There’s only one suitable spot for our ambush – just below Boarsden Castle at Boar Creek, where there are fierce rapids and an exceptionally deep eddy. It will take the royal party no more than six days to reach that point in their voyage, making the traditional stops along the way. Six days, Beynor! Barely enough time for you and the Salka assassins to get there and organize yourselves, since they won’t be able to swim at full speed once they’re in the river. If our amphibian friends aren’t in place, ready to attack, we’ll be forced to revise the Didion part of our scheme drastically – or abandon it altogether.’

Getting the Salka to kill King Honigalus and his family is a needless complication, Kilian. I’ve said that from the beginning.

‘And I’ve told you why it’s an absolutely essential step in the destruction of the Sovereignty.’

Well –

‘Pull yourself together and keep your mind concentrated on the great goal that’s finally within our grasp! I’ve done what I promised to do, putting my agents into Cala Palace without getting caught. Your task dealing with the Salka has been more difficult, I’ll grant you, but you’re the bravest, most audacious young man I’ve ever known. This is why I’ve been willing to place my own life and hopes in your hands. Listen to me, Beynor! We may never love one another as father and son, yet we are bound together by our mutual ambition more closely than by any tie of blood. Only together can we exploit Darasilo’s Trove. Only together can we dupe the Salka into assisting us to bring down Conrig’s Sovereignty. Only together can we rule.’

Damn your eyes!

‘Bless yours, my boy – and may you use them to see straight ahead and avoid distractions! I have every confidence in you. Don’t let me down.’

…Very well. I’ll arrange to meet with the Four Eminences immediately.

‘Excellent. I know you’ll convince them. Put your mind at ease.’

Huh! That’s hardly possible –given that I must shortly confront a pack of inhuman brutes who may well decide to torture me in creatively gruesome ways, rather than strike a bargain.

‘Salka minds work more slowly than ours and are deficient in imagination. It’s more likely that the monsters will pretend to accede to the proposal while planning to break faith with you later. We can deal with that easily enough. Don’t take it amiss, but it’s a good thing that the Salka think you a pathetic failure, cursed by the Lights, with only a few puny magical powers left. The arrogant boobies are bound to underestimate you and let their guard down.’

You state the facts with tactless candor, for one who was once first counselor to a king and now lives in disgrace, under a deferred sentence of death, stripped of all magical talent by the iron hanging around your neck.

‘Don’t be so touchy. Neither of us can afford wounded pride. Together we may possibly rule the world. Apart we’re doomed.’

No more word games, Kilian. It’s time for me to go.

‘Before you do, we must discuss your sister. My agents in Cala Palace will do their utmost to disguise their real objective. But if Conrig suspects that either of us might have caused the trove to be stolen, he might pressure Conjure-Queen Ullanoth to put us under close observation. Even worse, he could ask her to trace my agents. No ordinary talent is able to scry the moonstones, but her Subtle Loophole sigil can.’

Conrig would never let the Conjure-Queen know about Darasilo’s Trove. He’d be afraid she ‘d covet it for herself.

‘I suppose you’re right. But the king might use some pretext –’

Ulla hasn’t spied on me with Loophole since the incident last year that nearly cost her life. I’ve been assured of this by Master Kalawnn himself. That particular sigil is the most powerful one she possesses, and the price of its conjuring is tremendous. Unless Conrig tells her that we might have stolen a secret hoard of inactive moonstones, she’ll refuse to endanger her health and sanity by using Loophole to watch us or my men.

‘She’s bound to find out about the trove sooner or later.’

That’s why I intend to have the Salka attack her. I’ve worked out a plan –

‘I agree we should make her demise one of our earliest priorities…but only after the death of Honigalus! You must convince the monsters to kill him and his heirs first, Beynor. The circumstances are ideal and such an opportunity may never come again. The destabilization of the Sovereignty is absolutely crucial to our success. But that won’t happen unless Conrig loses his hold on Didion. Do you understand?’

Yes. Honigalus first, but then Ulla dies.

A sigh.

Return to your peaceful slumber, Kilian – as I do my best to tiptoe scatheless through the nightmare I inhabit here. Should I manage to gull the Salka, I’ll pop back into your dreams to inform you how the matter went. If I fail, remember me as you study Darasilo’s worthless collection of baubles – and think of what might have been.

The brightness and warmth of the endless midsummer daylight hardly penetrated the dank chambers of the great Salka citadel that crouched on the highest point of the Dawntide Isles. After four years of exile in the awful place, Beynor always felt pierced to the bone by cold, no matter how many furs he piled on. He was one-and-twenty years old now, and had enjoyed excellent health when he first came; but he knew he could not survive here much longer. The citadel was an abode fit only for nonhuman grotesques. It drained his bodily strength and weakened his innate talent more and more with each passing day. If he must risk everything now in a bid to restore his lost fortunes, then so be it. He carried a whale-oil lantern as he descended a slippery flight of steps to a corridor that extended well below sea level. The widely spaced jars of luminous marine plankton used by these Salka to illuminate the lower precincts of their refuge gave too meager a light to accommodate human vision. Even the smoky flame of the lantern was inadequate, and Beynor cursed as he threaded his way among numerous stinking black puddles, fed seawater (and noxious little swimmers) by perpetual leaks in the tunnel ceiling.

At length he reached the anteroom outside the presence chamber of the great trolls known as the Eminences. Six gigantic Salka guards holding granite battlehammers stood before double doors faced with slabs of carved amber and wrought gold. The hanging bowls of glowworms were larger here, giving plenty of light, so the young sorcerer discarded his sputtering lantern, strode forward with as much fortitude as he could muster, and spoke in the harsh tongue of the monsters.

‘I am Beynor ash Linndal, rightful Conjure-King of Moss and honored guest of your people, come for an audience with the Eminent Four.’

Slowly, the amphibians inclined their crested heads and studied him with a gaze like banked smoldering coals. They beheld a man tall and slimly built, having an intense narrow face and long pale hair that had gone stringy in the dampness. His eyes, which seemed at first to be black, were actually darkest green, with a glimmer of exceptional talent in their depths. The regal garments Beynor had worn when fleeing his lost kingdom had long since fallen to rags; and since his nonhuman hosts were unfamiliar with clothing, he had fashioned with his own hands a suit of pieced sea-otter fur, along with a voluminous fox cloak and sturdy boots of seal hide. The sole emblem of monarchy he had brought from Moss, the Royal Sword in its heavily bejeweled scabbard, was girded about his loins.

Saying nothing, the guards stepped aside and swung the chamber doors wide open. Beynor entered and the doors clanged shut again. He stood with his hands steepled in the Salka gesture of submission, biding his time until he should be recognized by the Eminences.

The beings who awaited him in the fantastically ornamented undersea cavern lolled on stubby-legged golden platforms, heaped with seaweed, that served them as couches. They were unattended and conversed among themselves in voices like muted thunder, apparently paying no attention to the human newcomer. A low table containing dishes and flasks of outlandish food and drink stood within tentacle-reach. Behind the dais rose a huge mosaic made from multicolored bits of amber and gleaming pearl-shell, depicting a legendary Salka hero. His flexible arms brandished twin obsidian axes, his saucer eyes glared fire-red, and his fanged mouth gaped in a silent roar. The image was framed by amber-bead curtains and lit with hanging crystal globes containing lively phosphorescent organisms.

Like the champion in the mosaic, each Eminence wore around his thick neck a softly glowing greenish-blue carving suspended from a golden chain: moonstone sigils of the minor kind that drew magical power from the Beaconfolk at the cost of pain to the wearer.

The Eminences were not royalty, but rather ruling elders chosen by their people for strength of character and proficiency in their separate fields of endeavor. Three of them – the First Judge, the Supreme Warrior, and the Conservator of Wisdom – Beynor had never seen before. As a mere human sorcerer, even one of royal blood who had come bearing a marvelous gift to ensure his welcome, he had been beneath their notice during his enforced stay in the Citadel of the Dawntide Isles. The only one of the Four familiar to Beynor was Master Shaman Kalawnn, pre-eminent adept of his race, who had been an intimate friend of the late Conjure-King Linndal. Unaware that Beynor had murdered his father, Master Kalawnn had agreed to give the deposed young ruler sanctuary after the Great Lights cursed him and stripped him of all but one of the sigils he had used to secure the throne of Moss.

That single remaining magical moonstone of his, dull and lifeless as it had been since it was first fashioned over a thousand years earlier, rested now on a spindly gold tripod to the right of the dais. Its presence was presumably a tribute to the human who had finally returned it to its original owners. The sigil’s name was Unknown Potency, and it was the most celebrated thing of its kind ever made, priceless at the same time that it was deemed supremely dangerous.

For long centuries following the damnation of the stone’s Salka creator, the precise manner of the Potency’s activation and operation had been forgotten by other members of the amphibian race. The person who made it – supposedly to be used as the ultimate weapon against the conquering hordes of the Emperor Bazekoy, although the monsters were not certain of this – had in the end failed to empower it.

Never brought to life, dreaded more than cherished, the Unknown Potency had become an enigmatic symbol of extinct Salka glory. Over the centuries, learned thaumatur-gists among the monsters believed that the sigil might hold the key to unimaginably great magic surpassing that of the Beaconfolk. But none had been brave enough to test it, for fear of the Great Lights’ capricious wrath.

About a hundred years earlier, through subterfuge, the Unknown Potency and six other notable sigils had passed from the Dawntide Salka into the hands of an extraordinary human wizard named Rothbannon, who used some of the stones to establish himself as the first Conjure-King of Moss. Although Rothbannon did eventually learn the spells that would activate the Unknown Potency, he and his descendants were disinclined to make use of the dubious sigil – as had been Beynor himself, even when the security of his throne was at stake and the fickle Beaconfolk turned against him. As the Great Lights repudiated and cursed the young king, they unaccountably left in his possession the ‘dead’ Unknown Potency, at the same time forbidding him to make use of it, or any other sigil, on pain of instant annihilation. But the Lights had not stopped Beynor from handing over the Unknown to the Salka.

Nor had they prevented him from engaging in studies concerning the nature of the cryptic stone while he lived in the Dawntide Citadel under Kalawnn’s protection…

‘We give you leave to approach us, Beynor,’ the Master Shaman now said, ‘and to speak to me and my august colleagues about your researches.’

He came forward, and without preamble pointed to the Unknown Potency on its golden tripod. ‘Eminences, I’ve discovered what this thing does.’

The leaders uttered undignified whoops of astonishment. The Supreme Warrior, who was the largest and most physically imposing of the Four, surged up from his couch and slithered across the dais with astonishing speed. He plucked from its resting place the small object resembling a hard translucent ribbon twisted into the form of a figure eight, and held the thing high while bellowing into Beynor’s impassive face.

‘You have discovered the operation of the Unknown Potency? The secret that eluded the most learned of our shamans for over eleven hundred years? How dare you say such a thing? You’re lying!’

‘I studied your own archival tablets, Eminence documents that have lain neglected in the bowels of this citadel since the defeated remnant of the Salka host took refuge in these forsaken isles. The work was very difficult, even though I am fairly fluent in your language. But I persevered. I succeeded. And now I propose to share my hard-won knowledge of the Potency with you.’ Beynor paused. ‘As is only just, I ask something in return for my labors.’

‘Now we come to the heart of the matter!’ exclaimed the Supreme Warrior, with a vicious clash of teeth. ‘He intends to trick us in some fashion, as the wretch Rothbannon did! Kalawnn – explain how this miscreant was able to pry into our sacred archives. How long have you been aware of this alleged discovery?’

‘Calm yourself, Ugusawnn,’ the Master Shaman replied equably. ‘I myself gave Beynor leave to investigate the Unknown Potency’s history not long after his arrival. Why not, since our own scholars seemed unaccountably tepid in their reaction to the precious sigil’s return? As to Beynor’s discovery, he told me of it just hours ago, saying he had finally marshaled sufficient evidence to support his hypothesis. I commanded him to wait on us Four without delay and explain everything.’

‘And now the insolent groundling thinks he can barter his so-called knowledge!’ roared the Warrior. ‘I say he should be tortured until the truth is wrung out of him!’

‘The journeyman is deserving of his wage,’ said Beynor, who seemed unfazed by the threat. ‘Forgive my saying so, Eminences, but your shamans – with the shining exception of Master Kalawnn – are a timid and lazy lot, fearful of arcane matters outside the range of their limited experience. They flatly refused to help with my researches, so I undertook them alone, working for four years under conditions inimical to human good health. Eventually I uncovered the Potency’s secrets. It may no longer be called Unknown, Eminences! I know its true nature. And while the Great Lights have forbidden me to empower it – or any other sigil – they have not constrained you Salka. I’m willing to show you how to bring the stone to life. What’s more, with my help, this one small moonstone can restore to you your lost homeland on High Blenholme island, avenging your defeat by Emperor Bazekoy.’

‘Astounding, if true,’ said the First Judge. He was a rotund personage who snacked on tidbits from the refreshment table as he observed Beynor through shrewd, half-closed eyes.

The ancient Conservator of Wisdom whispered, ‘If there is the least chance that the groundling does speak the truth, we must weigh his proposition.’

‘I am truthful,’ Beynor stated. ‘And I’ll reveal everything I know if you pledge to help me attain my own heart’s goal.’

The Supreme Warrior gingerly replaced the precious piece of moonstone on its golden stand and loomed over the young man. Two boneless arms as thick as beech trunks, each having four digits armed with daggerlike talons, reached out in menace as the Salka general spoke with ominous gentleness. ‘You’ll tell what you know without making demands, carrion-worm, or I will first disjoint your limbs piecemeal, then slowly slice open your belly and consume your throbbing entrails while you watch with dying eyes.’

‘That will do, Ugusawnn,’ said the Conservator of Wisdom. He was an individual of wizened stature, plainly infirm and weighted with years, but his red eyes burned with an authority that quelled the Supreme Warrior like an upstart child. ‘Please resume your place. I will question the former Conjure-King of Moss myself.’

‘Huh!’ said Ugusawnn. But he crawled obediently back to his slimy kelp couch as the Conservator beckoned for Beynor to come closer.

‘It pains me to speak loudly, groundling. But listening to lies pains me even more. Do you swear by your human God to tell me the truth about the Unknown Potency, on peril of damnation to the Hell of Ice?’

‘I do indeed, Eminence.’

But not all of the truth…no more than I told it to Kilian!

‘Then say first what favors you seek in return for your discovery.’

Beynor took a breath. ‘My principal desire is vengeance upon my evil sister Ullanoth and her accomplice Conrig Wincantor, the Sovereign of Blenholme. They conspired to humiliate me and steal my throne, and are ultimately responsible for my losing the friendship of the Beaconfolk. To achieve the ruin of these two persons I would renounce all hope of ever ruling Moss – or any part of High Blenholme Island. Instead, I offer to restore your original homeland to you, after which I intend to pursue my own destiny on the Southern Continent.’

‘He offers Blenholme to us!’ the Supreme Warrior scoffed. ‘As though he ruled it rather than Conrig’s Sovereignty.’

‘The Unknown Potency can enable your army to destroy both the Sovereign and my sister,’ Beynor said. ‘With my help.’

‘Tell us how,’ the First Judge demanded, picking his glassy teeth with one talon and examining the result with a frown.

‘Before I do that, I require tangible proof of your goodwill. It’s only just, Eminences – and my request isn’t difficult to fulfill. As a first step in subverting Conrig’s Sovereignty, I believe we must undermine his control in the region where the island is most vulnerable: the vassal kingdom of Didion. Didion is a keystone state whose lands adjoin those of the other three realms. It is susceptible to a Salka sea invasion from the east, the west, and most especially from the north, through the Green Morass. Its king, Honigalus, is a weakling, but he is unswervingly loyal to Conrig.’

‘What has this to do with us?’ the Conservator hissed impatiently.

‘As the first step in achieving my revenge, and your reconquest of Blenholme, I ask you to help me assassinate Honigalus, his three children, and his wife, who stand in line to the throne. If this is done, the king’s younger brother will inherit – a hothead prince named Somarus who is violently opposed to the Sovereignty. I’m very well acquainted with Somarus and his ambitions. He’s highly susceptible to my coercion. And if this princely creature of mine were perceived by neighboring Tarn to be a legitimate heir to the throne and not a fratricidal usurper as would be assured if Salka were clearly seen to be responsible for his brother’s death – then Sernin Donorvale and the Sealords of Tarn would have no scruples about allying with Didion in an attempt to throw off Conrig’s hated dominion. The Sovereignty would be plunged into chaotic war, making it easy for your own army to seize the advantage.’

‘It sounds like a clever scheme, if somewhat convoluted.’ The Conservator of Wisdom spoke wistfully. ‘But history has shown that our fighters have not the physical agility nor the military competence to withstand human beings on land. This is why most of us have remained in the Dawntide Isles for these many centuries, only venturing to attack the groundlings on rare occasions, from the sea…and why the Salka who still dwell in Blenholme’s Little Fen and the northern estuaries inhabited by humans live furtive, inconspicuous lives.’

Beynor said, ‘The high sorcery of the Known Potency will make you superior to any weapon humanity can wield, be it natural or supernatural.’

‘Tell us how this can be,’ said the First Judge. He uncorked a flask and poured a viscous fluid into a gold cup, sniffed it, and took a tentative lap. His tongue was purple, and nearly the length of Beynor’s forearm.

The young sorcerer strode to the golden tripod and cupped his hands beneath the inactive sigil. ‘Look upon it, Eminences! Apparently naught but a finely carved little stone ribbon, twisted to resemble a figure eight. But a finger slid along its surface discovers that the thing has but a single side and a single edge! A twofold wonder…’

‘Do not touch the Potency!’ the Supreme Warrior bellowed. ‘Never touch it again!’ Beynor froze but did not flinch. After a moment, he let his hands fall to his sides and withdrew from the tripod, smiling.

‘Continue,’ said Master Kalawnn, with a reproachful glance at his colleague.

Beynor nodded. ‘Properly conjured, this small object defies the Beaconfolk’s control of their own sorcery. It forces them to yield up arcane power through moonstone sigils without causing pain to the conjurer. The mere touch of the living Potency liberates any other active sigil from the Lights’ control, as well as from the control of the former owner. A liberated sigil retains its efficacy, without exacting the former pain-price. Think what this might mean to wielders of minor-sigil weaponry such as flame-stones and stunners.’

‘Incredible!’ Kalawnn exclaimed.

‘Not at all, Master. I’ve also discovered that the Potency can instantly activate dead sigils without the usual agonizing ritual, whether the Lights will it or not. You Salka might also use the Potency to safely empower newly fashioned Great Stones. Just imagine what ten Weathermakers could do to Conrig’s army and navy! Or even one Destroyer…’

‘At the present time, we are unable to make new sigils,’ Kalawnn admitted, shaking his ponderous head. ‘All that we have left are those minor stones brought to the isles by the refugees fleeing Bazekoy.’

Beynor kept a lid on his elation with difficulty. The chief sorcerer of the Salka had confirmed what Beynor and Kilian had previously only deduced to be true: the monsters would already have used Great Stones as weapons against humanity if they had owned any.

‘Still,’ Beynor said, ‘the Potency can be a great boon to you. Even the lesser sigils conjure more powerful sorcery than talented humans are capable of. King Conrig’s alchymists and warriors will flee in terror before your conquering magic!’

The Supreme Warrior gave a skeptical grunt. ‘That remains to be seen. In my opinion, if we have only minor stones to assist us, humans might retain a strong advantage especially on land – as they did in Bazekoy’s day. Even our Great Stones did not deter his warriors for long. They slew the sigils’ owners from afar with their arrows, then were able to smash the dead stones before we could retrieve and reactivate them. Only three Great Stones ever came to the Dawntides, those that Rothbannon took away from us. They eventually were handed down to you. In your incredible stupidity, you misused them, and now only this Unknown Potency is left.’

‘A more prudent course is open to us,’ the Conservator of Wisdom said. ‘As Kalawnn observed, we lack the ability to make new Great Stones at the present time But that situation could change.’

Beynor forced himself to speak nonchalantly in the face of this shocker. ‘And how might that come to pass, Eminence? Nothing I’ve studied so far in your archives tells of the origin of moonstone sigils.’

The Conservator turned to the Master Shaman. ‘Colleague, please explain matters to this groundling protégé of yours. My voice grows weary.’

‘Thousands of years ago,’ Kalawnn said, ‘our people discovered that a certain precious mineral had the power to conjure the magic of the Coldlight Army. The mineral was never abundant, and obtaining it was a difficult and dangerous business. With the passing of time and the changing climate, the two sources of the mineral, known as the Moon Crags, became inaccessible to our people. Indeed, the very location of the smaller crag has been lost we know only that it lies atop a mountain while the larger crag is situated deep within the Barren Lands of the far north, in a place now colder and more inhospitable than it was in ages past.’

The Conservator said to Beynor, ‘If the Unknown Potency does indeed have the power you describe, we might undertake a special effort to reach the Barren Lands Moon Crag once again. It might take a number of years to accomplish the task. But if we fashioned powerful new Great Stones and activated them through the Potency, then our victory against humanity would be certain rather than problematic. The Lights would have no way of betraying us, as they did so perfidiously when Bazekoy first threatened our homeland.’

The other Eminences murmured in agreement. Beynor stood like a statue, fighting the nausea swelling inside him. He’d been so certain that they were ready to acquiesce to his scheme – and now this!

Well, there remained one bargaining tool that could mend the situation. Mentioning it now might lead the Eminences to suspect – rightly enough – that he was planning treachery after the action in Didion; but he had to risk it.

‘It’s understandable that you feel you must hold off reclaiming your heritage until you obtain Great Stones,’ he said carefully. ‘However, I might point out that there are three other Great Stones already in existence that could be used to further the Salka cause without delay. In my opinion, these sigils alone would enable you to secure a strong initial foothold on High Blenholme while your valiant shamans simultaneously undertake the Moon Crag quest.’

Kalawnn said, ‘I presume you refer to those owned by your sister, Conjure-Queen Ullanoth, which supposedly came to her as a gift from your dead mother, along with four minor stones.’

‘Hmm. I’d forgotten about those,’ the Conservator said. ‘The young witch was said to have found them hidden among the roots of a swamp tree, after being guided by a dream.’

‘That’s so,’ Beynor said. ‘The important sigils are called Sender, Weathermaker, and Subtle Loophole. My sister rarely uses their high sorcery these days, since she has accumulated an enormous pain-debt employing them in the service of her lover, King Conrig.’

‘She uses them against us!’ Ugusawnn snarled. ‘In our failed attack last year, the Conjure-Queen employed her Loophole sigil to see us coming, and smote our landing force with a great storm conjured by Weathermaker. After that, even with the queen disabled by pain, human ships attacked these very isles. Our fighters were crushed like fishlice!’

‘I’m aware that recent Salka assaults against Moss were repelled.’ Beynor gave the Supreme Warrior an apologetic shrug. ‘Forgive me, Eminence, for saying that the actions were poorly planned, using insufficient numbers of warriors who relied upon brute strength rather than appropriate magic.’

The huge eyes of Ugusawnn gleamed like baleful rubies. He bared his crystalline teeth at Beynor, and each was twice as long as a man’s hand. ‘Do you know a better way to fight the Conjure-Queen and her allies?’

‘Suppose your forces were equipped with numbers of Concealers and Interpenetrators. I know your people possess such minor stones, as well as many others, but they are reluctant to use them because of the price. Liberated by the Potency, these sigils can assure victory! If you mount a stealthy attack on Royal Fenguard from the upstream side, using my special knowledge of the castle’s defenses in that area, you could penetrate the fortress walls and move about under cover of invisibility. Queen Ullanoth’s Great Stones would be yours before she or her ally King Conrig realized what was happening…because, with the Potency, you would not have to kill the queen before taking her Great Stones for yourselves.’

The First Judge was aghast. ‘What are you saying?’

‘As you are aware, Eminence, a living sigil will ordinarily burn or even kill an unauthorized person who ventures to seize it. Even if the bonded owner is separated from the sigils, the owner can often command it from a distance – perhaps causing great harm or mischief. But a moonstone liberated by the Potency is severed from its former owner at once. Recall what I said: a liberated stone becomes re-bonded painlessly to the Potency wielder without the usual lengthy and painful ritual.’

The Conservator of Wisdom spoke with heavy sarcasm. ‘It is good that we need have no fear that you might manage to appropriate your sister’s three Great Stones for yourself, Beynor of Moss!’

‘Alas, no, Eminence,’ Beynor lied. ‘The curse of the Beaconfolk places them beyond my reach forever. But not beyond yours.’

‘All this sounds like a splendid course of action,’ the Supreme Warrior sneered, ‘but in my opinion it has as many holes as a sponge. It relies too much on this groundling’s help and I don’t trust him. We can’t even be sure he’s told us the truth about the Potency.’

The Master Shaman said mildly, ‘Beynor is the son of my departed friend, Conjure-King Linndal. He has never given me reason to doubt his friendship toward the Salka people. He returned the Potency to us without condition. We know for a fact that he is incapable of using sigil magic himself. His assessment of the situation in Moss coincides with my own knowledge of Ullanoth’s affairs. I think we should consider the proposal to invade Moss very carefully. That isolated corner of High Blenholme would provide us with a perfect staging area for the main attack upon the rest of the island. Numbers of our people already reside in Moss’s fens and in the swamps along its principal rivers. And I agree with Beynor that the Conjure-Queen’s three important sigils would immediately give us an enormous advantage over human enemies.’

‘Then let’s go against Moss right away!’ said the First Judge, hoisting high his golden cup for emphasis. ‘Why muck about with this assassination of the Didionite king? What benefit is that to us?’

‘It gains you my gratitude,’ Beynor said in a loud, cold voice. ‘And it’s a sure method of fatally weakening Conrig’s Sovereignty. If you kill Honigalus, I promise to help activate the Potency immediately afterwards and help you attack Moss. If you refuse me, I won’t share my knowledge with you.’

‘I say we should simply put this presumptuous tadpole to the torture,’ growled the Supreme Warrior, ‘He’ll tell us everything we need to know about the Potency inside of an hour. Once our search parties are equipped with liberated minor sigils that the Lights can’t meddle with, we’ll locate the Barren Lands Moon Crag in short order. We won’t need this snotty groundling’s help to reconquer Blenholme if we have plenty of new Great Stones. No human force could stand against us!’

‘Bazekoy’s did,’ the Conservator said bleakly. ‘Remember that.’

‘Because the Lights betrayed us,’ the Warrior thundered. ‘They allowed him to win – perhaps for their own perverse amusement. This time, the situation will be different.’

‘Doing things my way would be so much more efficient, Eminences,’ urged Beynor. ‘I can speed your conquest because I’m human. I know human strategy. I know human weaknesses and strengths. And more than anything in this world, I want to destroy Conrig Wincantor and my sister Ullanoth.’

A prolonged silence fell over the chamber.

‘How strange,’ mused the First Judge, as he licked the last mucilaginous drops from his cup, ‘that Conjure-Queen Ullanoth should have discovered a hidden cache of sigils so fortuitously – although we know that many such must have been secreted away during our long retreat from Bazekoy’s host. I wonder if other lost Great Stones might be located using her Subtle Loophole, that most puissant tool for wind-searching? If we owned a liberated Loophole, then it would be unnecessary for us to launch a long and arduous expedition to the Barren Lands Moon Crag.’

Beynor felt his gorge rise anew at this terrible possibility, which had never occurred to him. What a catastrophe if the monsters located and took control of Darasilo’s Trove before he could steal it away from Kilian…

But the Conservator’s next words wiped away Beynor’s dismay and kindled fresh hope. ‘It seems to me that the young sorcerer’s proposal to help us seize the Conjure-Queen’s sigils has considerable merit. We should not reject it lightly.’

‘I agree,’ said the Master Shaman. ‘Furthermore, torturing the human as Ugusawnn urges can produce unsatisfactory results. Humans have such frail bodies compared to our own.’

‘If I die under the Supreme Warrior’s ministrations before telling you the secret of the Potency,’ Beynor said reasonably, ‘you will have thrown away any chance of abolishing the pain-yoke of the Lights, or regaining your ancestral island home.’

‘He’s right,’ the Conservator said. ‘And this assassination that he demands as a goodwill gesture doesn’t seem particularly difficult.’

‘It would be quite a simple matter,’ Beynor said, ‘requiring only a small force of Salka warriors. Perhaps only a score. I would have to lead them myself, since I’m familiar with the River Malle and the type of vessel carrying King Honigalus and his family. I also know the best escape route. As soon as the fighters and I return to Dawntide Citadel, I’ll show you how to activate the Potency. You must choose who among you will bond to the Great Stone –’

‘It must be Ugusawnn,’ the Conservator said. ‘He is the most suitable person. Aside from his undeniable fighting prowess, his own sigil enables him to communicate with us across long distances, so we always know how his ventures are faring.’

The Supreme Warrior’s enormous glowing eyes widened in gratified surprise. ‘Do the other Eminences concur?’

The Judge and the Master Shaman nodded.

And Beynor thought: Perfect! My principal opponent is disarmed!

‘Ugusawnn will also lead the assassination party into Didion,’ the Conservator said, ‘with the human sorcerer serving as his guide. This will not only enhance the possibility of success, but also make certain that the action proceeds without…unexpected developments.’

The Conservator meant Beynor’s escape. But he already had worked out a simple plan to get away from the monsters. ‘I would be honored to have such august company on the expedition,’ the young sorcerer said humbly.

The Supreme Warrior glowered at him. ‘Precisely where are these royal murders to take place?’

‘At a point on the River Malle near Boarsden Castle, where the barge is most vulnerable to attack from the water,’ Beynor said. ‘The spot is some six hundred leagues from the Dawntide Isles. Honigalus and his family will be there six days from now.’

‘So soon?’ the Judge said.

‘Our strongest swimmers could get there easily if we left at once,’ Ugusawnn said. He shot Beynor a look of distaste. ‘But I don’t know how we’ll manage to transport the groundling sorcerer without drowning him. I’m not even convinced that it’s a good idea for him to go along on this mission. What if he’s killed? We’d never empower the Potency then.’

‘It would be up to you,’ the Conservator said wearily, ‘to keep him secure.’

‘Do you still intend to oppose this scheme, Ugusawnn,’ Kalawnn asked, ‘even when we would make you Master of the Potency?’

‘I don’t oppose it. But I do mistrust this tricky groundling with all my heart and soul!’

Beynor said, ‘I know an easy way to transport me to Didion. When the Master Shaman so graciously offered me sanctuary, I came here from Royal Fenguard in my own barque, Ambergris, which was a gift to me from the Didionites after I did them a great favor. The ship is in a sad state of neglect now, careened in one of the coves below the citadel. But her boats should still be sound, and they are of a common type that would be inconspicuous on the River Malle. I can cross the sea in one of them, dismasted and towed along at speed by your force. When we reach Mallmouth Harbor, I’ll step the boat’s mast, hoist her sail, and go innocently up the river – pulled more slowly and inconspicuously as needed by my Salka guardians.’

‘Is this practicable, Ugusawnn?’ the Conservator inquired.

‘It would probably work.’ The Supreme Warrior spoke without enthusiasm. ‘But I’d rather leave the groundling here. Let him instruct me in the details.’

‘I won’t agree –’ Beynor began to say.

‘Silence!’ The Conservator of Wisdom gave the command in a voice that was suddenly resounding and steady. ‘Beynor of Moss, step back from the dais and wait by the doors while we Four confer.’

Beynor obeyed. Numbed by the ordeal, he now felt no anxiety nor sense of anticipation as the great trolls murmured interminably among themselves. At long last the Conservator called out, ‘Beynor, come and stand again before us, and receive our decision.’

Kilian. Vra-Kilian Blackhorse. Do you hear? ‘Yes, Beynor.’

We’ve won. A small Salka force will leave for Didion within a few hours, taking me with them. They’ll be led by their Supreme Warrior, a surly savage named Ugusawnn. After slaughtering the royal family, we’re supposed to return to Dawntide Citadel, where I show the Four Eminences how to activate the Potency. They’ve decided to bond it to the Supreme Warrior. He intends to lead an attack on Royal Fenguard immediately, snap up Ulla’s sigils, and conquer the world for the Salka.

‘Heh heh heh! Brilliantly done, my boy. What a pack of simpletons!’

I’m supposed to believe that Ugusawnn will take me along on the invasion of Moss. But I’m fairly certain he intends to kill me as soon as he’s sure that I’ve properly activated the Potency

‘It would be extremely vexing if the monsters did polish you off.’

Ugusawnn is no fool and he has serious doubts about me. Still, it should be easy enough to give him the slip once he and the others have taken care of Honigalus. They have no suspicion that I’m able to impel a small boat with my talent – as if that weren’t one of the first tricks a Mossland magicker learns! Once I’m safely away in Didion, I’ll windspeak the Eminences the revised version of the bargain And we pray that they swallow their outrage and agree to it.

‘Why shouldn’t they? The alternative is custody of a useless dead sigil. How could the Salka possibly suspect that the Potency bonds to no one? That it can be snatched away from this Supreme Warrior and used by anyone at all without causing harm to the taker?’

Such a thing would never occur to them. I wonder why the Potency’s creator made it thus? Not too sensible, was it7 hot that I’m complaining!

‘Consider this: If the Potency doesn’t bond to its activator, then it doesn’t die when the owner does. Unlike all other sigils, the Potency might very well be immortal.’

Interesting – and unsettling, too. God of the Depths! How I wish there were some way of reading that last archive tablet! We need to know why the Potency was made, and why its reputation has always been so dire.

‘After we wipe out the Salka with Darasilo’s Trove, you can return to their citadel and find out.’

Perhaps…Kilian, this conversation must end now. The Supreme Warrior is expecting me to join him. We ‘re inspecting the small boat that will carry me to Didion.

‘Good luck, then, Beynor. May you have a safe voyage.’

I’ll see you in your dreams.