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Jim nodded, pulled his boots on, and fell into step behind him. ‘I just came in from the…’ Jim began, and then stopped himself. ‘Actually, I’m supposed to report directly to Pug on this matter.’ He looked hard at Amirantha, then said, ‘Still, much of what I’ve seen concerns you, too.’
‘Really?’ said the Warlock. He said no more, content to let the mysterious noble-turned-spy speak when he was ready.
As they reached the entrance to the yard, they paused, feeling the occasional rain-drop blown in by the freshening wind, then continued on, leaving the relative warmth of the keep entrance for the soggy ground of the marshalling yard. The rain had almost stopped and the wind was freshening a little; it already felt dryer.
‘So, you were about to say?’
Jim appeared annoyed. ‘I can never tell who knows what around here.’
Amirantha laughed. ‘I can tell you this much, my friend: all of us here have some power and ability, despite appearances to the contrary. Pug ensured all the vulnerable students were safely away within a day of—’
‘The attack,’ Jim finished.
‘I was going to say the death of his wife and son.’ Amirantha sighed. ‘Never having had children, I can only imagine what he’s going through. I had little experience of him to judge what he was like before that, scant hours really, but…’ He shrugged.
‘You sense he’s changed,’ said Jim. He looked to the west where somewhere behind the clouds the sun was lowering toward the horizon. ‘He knew I was engaged on important business, and yet he has left no apparent means of contacting him; that is most unlike Pug. It’s as if he’s…’ Jim shrugged.
‘Distracted?’ offered Amirantha.
‘More,’ said Jim. ‘He’s distant in a way that troubles me.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Jim smiled slightly. ‘I don’t expect you to. I hardly know the man well, despite our tenuous kinship.’
‘Kinship?’
Jim said, ‘My great-grandmother was his foster daughter.’
Amirantha raised his eyebrows in slight surprise. ‘Tenuous by blood perhaps, but otherwise?’
‘We are not close. It is a long story, a family matter, and really not pertinent to the discussion at hand.’
Amirantha shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but we have ample time to fill. Enlighten me.’
Jim stared off into the darkening afternoon gloom and said, ‘While Pug and I may not be close, I do know a great deal about him; his role in Kingdom politics has been significant, since long before I was born.’
‘Obviously,’ agreed Amirantha. ‘Given the rank and status of those who have visited here since I was first made aware of the Conclave’s existence.’
‘So in my other duties to the Crown, I’ve been required to study a great deal of history, much of it penned by my own forbearers. I know Pug to be a man of strong convictions and one who pays attention to detail. He is not the sort to let impor-tant things slip by. Yet lately…’ Jim took a deep breath.
‘I assume you mean this,’ Amirantha said, indicating the cold, nearly empty castle around them with a wave of his hand.
‘I would have expected the man I knew, the one I studied, to have begun reconstruction on the villa at once, defiantly, to let his enemies know that they would not prevail.’
Amirantha nodded, pursing his lips in thought. He remained quiet for a moment, then asked, ‘How much time do you think his enemies spend studying him?’
Jim inclined his head slightly as if conceding the point.
‘Would it not seem, given what has happened here, that Pug knows he’s under a great deal of scrutiny? By such accounts, his enemies have been coming at him for years, in one form or another.’
‘Only if you assume that there is a single intelligence behind the series of assaults on this world going, yes. But that can only be an assumption.’
‘A better one,’ observed the Warlock, ‘than thinking that this land has been beset by a string of coincidental afflictions.
‘I may not be a master of magic on Pug’s scale, but I know enough about the other realms to suspect this is not a series of random occurrences.’ He paused, and Brandos recognized his expression. Amirantha was frustrated. ‘Over the last year I’ve heard frequent reference to things such as the Pantathian Serpent Priests, the Riftwar, the Great Uprising, and all the rest of it; enough of them to believe there is one agent behind all of this, one intelligence that has targeted this world, perhaps this very nation, even perhaps this island, for reasons known only to them; but irrespective of those reasons, the consequences for this entire world are bound to be dire.’
‘I agree,’ said Jim, ‘but explain your reasons.’
‘The Pantathians exist in the distant mountains to the west of my home, yet stories of them travel; they are a strange race, and their obliteration has been assumed numerous times, yet they linger.
‘They serve an ancient hate, a female idol they call “the mother of us all”. They kill without remorse any who refuse to serve her.
‘The Emerald Queen, whose army savaged my homeland before travelling half-way around the world to come to the Kingdom, was a demon in disguise.’ Suddenly Amirantha became animated. ‘Do you have any notion of how remarkable that is?’
Jim shook his head.
‘I will bore you with a long lecture some other time—’
‘And he will,’ interjected Brandos.
‘—But demon possession on that level, of a powerful magic user…It’s unknown to those of my calling.’
Jim said, ‘I still don’t see the connection.’
Amirantha seemed to fight for words. ‘I can’t explain. It’s as if I’m on the edge of understanding something important, but I’m not quite there yet. But it’s more than a feeling, Jim.’ He looked at Brandos and said, ‘Am I usually prone to leap to conclusions, Brandos?’
Brandos shrugged, then realized it wasn’t the time for more japes; it had been a serious question. ‘No, you’re occasionally too convinced of your own brilliance, but you are hardly rash.’ He paused, and then added to Jim. ‘He’s miscalculated and almost killed us several times, but at those times he was wrong, not impetuous. If he says he’s on the edge of understanding something huge, I’d believe him.’
‘Well, then,’ said Jim Dasher. ‘Is there any way I can help?’
‘Only if you can supply me with more information than I’ve been privy too lately.’
Jim was silent for a long moment as he stared out into the fading light.
Brandos cleared his throat and said, ‘I’m going to go inside; I will ask Samantha to rustle up something for you to eat. I imagine you’re hungry.’
Jim smiled. ‘Thank you, Brandos. That would be wonderful.’ After the old fighter had left, Jim said, ‘He should be a diplomat.’
Amirantha laughed. ‘Hardly, but he can be discreet at times.’
Jim paused, then said, ‘Very well. I expect that Pug will ask you to listen to my report anyway, as you are the demon expert.’
Amirantha nodded. ‘That elf, Gulamendis, is the only being I’ve met who knows as much, possibly more.’
Jim looked uncomfortable. ‘Those Star Elves make my skin itch. But they’re a matter for another time.’ Jim told the Warlock what he had witnessed in the distant Jal-Pur desert and when he was finished, he asked, ‘What do you think?’
Amirantha said, ‘I think we need to find a way to fetch Pug back here as soon as possible.’
‘Why?’
Heading back towards the keep, Amirantha said, ‘Come with me.’
He didn’t wait to see if Jim followed, but hurried inside. He glanced around the common room and asked the four younger magicians there, ‘Where is Jason?’
One of them pointed towards a door that led to a small room Pug occasionally used as a private office. Amirantha went to the door, knocked once and then opened it. Jason sat behind the tiny desk in the former storage room, squinting at a paper under the dim glow of a single candle. The tiny window above hardly admitted any light on the brightest of days.
‘Yes?’ he asked, apparently untroubled by the sudden entrance.
‘Pug,’ said Amirantha. ‘You need to summon him at once.’
Jason sat back. ‘And how am I supposed to do that, given that I have no idea where he is?’
Amirantha gave Jim a sidelong glance, then said, ‘I count Pug many things, but a fool is not one of them. Even if you don’t know where he is, I’m certain that he’s left you with the means to contact or summon him, should the need arise; and such a need has arisen.’
‘Really?’ asked the younger magician. He looked at Jim for corroboration.
‘I think so, as well,’ said Jim.
‘Very well,’ said Jason, rising from behind the small desk. ‘Come with me.’ He picked up the candleholder.
He led them out of the room and across the floor of the keep’s great hall. Brandos stood near his wife beside the large hearth where a pot of stew was simmering. The old fighter shot a questioning look at Amirantha, but with a nod of his head the Warlock indicated that he should stay where he was.
Jason led them up a flight of stairs to the upper floor of the main building and down a long hall that traversed the building to the tower opposite Amirantha’s residence. The single candle Jason held provided the only light on that floor. To the best of the Warlock’s knowledge, the tower stood empty, save for the enchantment on the top floor that caused the ominous blue light to glow whenever a ship came within sight of the castle.
They climbed a circular staircase to the second to last floor and Jason opened a door. Inside the room was bare, save for a construct of wood: two curving poles sat on top of a base that looked metallic. Amirantha glanced at Jason and said, ‘Tsurani?’
The young magician said, ‘In design, yes. Pug built it.’
‘What is it?’ asked Jim.
‘A rift gate,’ said Amirantha. ‘What our friends the Star Elves call a portal.’
Jason went to a small shelf near a shuttered window and pulled down a small cloth bag. He handed the candle to Jim, then knelt and carefully opened the bag. Reaching inside he pulled out an odd looking device: a square box covered with odd designs, strange levers and wheels.
‘This was created by an artificer of Tsurani descent, in LaMut. It’s a little ungainly compared to the old Tsurani devices.’ He shrugged as if what he was saying was simple trivia.
He then placed the device on the metallic base between the two poles, tripped one of the levers and stood back. ‘I have no knowledge or ability when it comes to rift magic,’ said the young magician. ‘It is difficult and outside of my interests. Only Magnus and a few others know much about it, although no one knows as much as Pug. He had this constructed should the need arise to summon him.’
Suddenly a whooshing sound filled the room, then a crackle of energy, followed by a shimmering between the poles. A grey void appeared, scintillating colours ran faintly over its surface, like oil refracting light on water.
‘Pug will receive the alert in a moment. He should appear as soon as he is able.’
‘Do you know where he went?’ asked Jim.
Jason said, ‘We only know what little he tells us.’
Long moments dragged by, then, suddenly a figure stepped through the rift. A short man with a closely trimmed beard, Pug still wore the ancient fashion of the Tsurani Great Ones: a simple black robe and cross-gartered sandals. ‘What is it?’ he asked as soon as he was through.
Jason inclined his head towards Jim and Amirantha, and it was the Warlock who spoke. ‘We’re being played for fools, Pug.’
Pug’s brow furrowed as he asked, ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ll explain,’ said Amirantha, ‘when Jim has told you what he saw a few days ago in the Jal-Pur, but it would help if we had another with us.’
‘Who?’
‘We need an expert on death.’
Pug looked slightly bemused. ‘I know just the fellow.’ He turned and held up his hand. The Warlock could feel shifting magic in the room, though Jim only felt his ‘bump of trouble’ start to act up. After a moment, Pug said, ‘You two, follow me.’ To Jason he said, ‘Put the toy away when we’re through.’ He stepped into the rift.
Jim turned and said, ‘Please send word to Captain Jenson to weigh anchor and make for Krondor. I’ll find him there.’ He turned and followed Pug.
Just before he entered, Amirantha turned to Jason and said, ‘You might also tell Samantha that Jim and I will be missing supper tonight.’ He then followed the other two men into the rift.
• CHAPTER THREE • Sergeant-Adamant (#ulink_e7e139ac-7464-5d93-9f6b-150049e74585)
CREEGAN GESTURED WITH HIS HAND.
Sandreena entered his quarters still covered in dust from the road and feeling hunger pangs. Once she had given care of her horse over to the stable boy, she had paused only long enough to drink deeply from the well behind the temple, but she hadn’t eaten anything but a handful of dried fruit and some nuts since leaving Land’s End. Her order was mendicant and there was no dedicated shrine or temple in Land’s End, so she had survived on what she had purchased in Durbin with the last of her coin.
The moment she handed her documents to the Father-Bishop she knew something was wrong, something that had nothing to do with the message she had delivered to him. He waved her to sit in a chair opposite his desk and said, ‘The Grand Master has passed.’
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and made a short prayer to the Goddess to care for the old man on his way to Lims-Kragma’s domain. He had been a good man, almost saintly, and Sandreena had no doubt that he would be rewarded with a higher place on the Wheel of Life.
The Father-Bishop remained silent while she prayed; when she opened her eyes, she discovered him staring intently at her. ‘Father-Bishop?’
Creegan smiled; it was not a friendly or warm expression, but rather the smile of a man finding humour in a very dark place. ‘The end of life is not necessarily a cause for sorrow, daughter,’ he said using the address usually reserved for minor members of the order, clearly communicating the difference in their ranks. She was uncertain why he felt the need to emphasise it, but knew he did nothing without a reason. ‘The Grand Master served the Goddess well, for many years and has earned his final rest.
‘But the timing is…inconvenient.’ He stood and said, ‘I must leave at once for Rillanon, for the convocation is to be held only a week after the funeral, and the selection of the new High Priest is more critical than is usual.’
She knew he was referring to the matter of the demon host: the ‘Legion’ as it was called, was out there somewhere, threatening to bring its ravages upon this world. Few people within the temple, and even fewer outside, knew that the threat existed. Sandreena was aware of it only because of the confidence in which Father-Bishop Creegan held her. And fewer still knew of the relationship between the Father-Bishop and the Conclave of Shadows led by the magician Pug.
She merely nodded her head and said, ‘I understand.’
‘I know you do, Sandreena.’ He rose from the desk, and sat on the corner, looking down at her. ‘I have never told you, but there is a beauty to you that few notice.’
She was a little startled by the statement. There had always been an underlying tension between them, she found him a very attractive and powerful man, but his reputation as something of a womanizer, and their respective ranks, had always kept any inappropriate behaviour in check.
He held up his hand before she could speak. ‘I don’t mean your physical beauty—as impressive as it is when you choose to let others glimpse it—but rather a beauty of strength and purpose, what you’ve overcome and managed to achieve despite a desperately difficult beginning. It is most admirable.’ He stood up and moved to the window. Looking out, he said, ‘We may get more rain.’ The rain along the coast had made her trip even more difficult, so she hoped he was wrong.
‘I am leaving you in charge of the Order while I’m away.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Me?’
‘I’ll send Father-Bishop Bellamy back, to assume my duties, but in the interim, you will take my place here.’
‘Take your place?’
