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‘‘Who are The Six?’’ asked Pug. ‘‘You’ve mentioned them before.’’
‘‘No one knows. They are swathed in robes as dark as those of your Tsurani friend and yourself, with deep hoods.’’
‘‘Pantathians?’’ suggested Pug.
‘‘Not snake priests, I’m certain,’’ said Gorath. ‘‘They speak as you or I do, though there is an accent to their voices. Yet, they serve Delekhan and give him the might to unite the clans.
Their magic was powerful enough to force Nago and Narab to heel on two occasions when they sought to distance themselves from Delekhan. And among our people, they were the mightiest of Spellweavers.’’
Arutha said, ‘‘Pug, would you bring that map over here, please?’’
Pug got the map indicated by the Prince, one of the central third of the Kingdom. He placed it on the table next to the one brought by Locklear from Yellow Mule. ‘‘What cause would Delekhan have to operate out of a river town in the heart of the Kingdom?’’
Pug said, ‘‘Perhaps because it is in the heart of the Kingdom?’’ He pointed to the location. ‘‘When Murmandamus came against us, he moved through Highcastle, and crossed the High Wold, moving to the southwest to enter the Dimwood and strike south to Sethanon. What if this time Delekhan ran this pass here, and came down the River Cheston by barge?’’
Arutha nodded. ‘‘At Romney he could turn to the River Silden and north of the City of Silden he could turn westward and force march to Sethanon. It’s his fastest route and his easi-est if I’ve got the Armies of the West tied up at LaMut and Tannerus and a dozen other places from here to Yabon. He’d be west of the King’s Armies, too.’’
Arutha looked at Gorath. ‘‘At last something starts to make sense.’’
Gorath said, ‘‘If I go to Romney, I may be able to find you the proof.’’
Arutha said, ‘‘It’s a long step from belief to trust, Gorath.
Our people have been enemies too many years for trust to come easily.’’
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‘‘Send me with your soldiers, then,’’ said Gorath. ‘‘Delekhan must be stopped. If you blunt his attack, send him back to the North with his nose bloodied, his own supporters will throw him down and my people will be saved. As will yours.’’
Arutha considered, and said, ‘‘I’ve got just the person to put on this task. But Jimmy is out conducting some other business for me right now—’’
‘‘Nighthawks?’’ asked Gorath.
‘‘What do you know of that?’’ asked Arutha.
Gorath explained the encounters in the sewers with the false Nighthawks and Squire James.
Arutha nodded. ‘‘Someone’s anxious for me to send the army into the sewers, cleaning out the Mockers while I’m at it. The two things may be related, but they also may be coincidence.’’
‘‘I think them related,’’ said Gorath. ‘‘I have not heard anyone speak of the Nighthawks, but I have heard them speak of Delekhan having sources of information throughout the Kingdom.’’
Makala said, ‘‘And from what young Locklear said, agents working within the Empire, as well.’’ He held up the ruby Locklear had returned to him. ‘‘These thefts have been under way for some time now.’’ The Tsurani magician looked at Arutha. ‘‘I think these events are all somehow related.’’
Arutha nodded. He looked at Gorath, and said, ‘‘I’m returning you to your room, under guard. I’ll send for you in the morning, and we’ll map out your journey to Romney. It’s weeks out and back by even the fastest horses, and we need information in as timely a fashion as possible.’’
Gorath rose from the table, and, with a slight nod to Gamina and Pug, he left the room.
Arutha let out a sigh of frustration. ‘‘So much of what he knows is based upon overheard conversations and rumor. I believe his warning is sincere, but is it accurate?’’
Knight-Marshal Gardan, who had remained silent while the moredhel was in the room, said, ‘‘I don’t trust him, Highness.
We fought them too often over the years to trust any of them.’’
‘‘But what other choice do I have, Marshal?’’ asked Arutha.
‘‘If his warning is true, we face another Great Uprising, and if 89
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we don’t guess right, we may be in the same situation as we were last time, with armies racing to converge on Sethanon, with the moredhel already there.’’
‘‘Why Sethanon?’’ asked Makala, looking at the map. ‘‘Why do they believe this Murmandamus is imprisoned there?’’
Arutha glanced at Pug, and said, ‘‘That is where he disappeared. There’s some rumor about the place, and Murmandamus was deluded into thinking that if he seized that city, he would cut the Kingdom in half and defeat us.’’
It was a weak lie, and Pug knew it, but Makala said, ‘‘Often in war decisions are based on bad assumptions. Is there some proof, though, that Murmandamus is indeed dead?’’
‘‘Only my word,’’ said Arutha. ‘‘For I was the one who killed him.’’
Makala looked at Arutha, and said, ‘‘And we can pretty safely assume they will not take you at your word, correct?’’
Arutha nodded.
Pug shook his head in frustration. ‘‘My daughter and I must leave for a while, but we’ll be back, Arutha. I am more concerned by these mysterious six magicians than all the other news brought by Gorath.’’
‘‘Yes,’’ said Makala. ‘‘The mysterious magic users. We of the Assembly will be glad to aid you, Pug, if we can. Just call on us.’’
Pug asked, ‘‘Are you coming to Stardock?’’
Makala said, ‘‘I have some messages to pen to those back on Kelewan. I will join you at Stardock soon.’’
Pug nodded, took an orb out of his robe, and placed his arm around his daughter’s waist. He activated the orb, and, with a buzz, the pair vanished.
Arutha said, ‘‘Would that the rest of us could flit from place to place with such speed.’’
Makala said, ‘‘To prevent armies from doing just that is one reason my brotherhood of magicians guards these devices so, Highness. We shall have to be cautious of our part in such matters, though given our Emperor’s disposition’’—he referred to the fact that Ichindar, Emperor of Tsuranuanni, was in favor of close ties with the Kingdom—‘‘you can expect aid quickly, should you need it.’’
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Arutha gave him thanks, and Makala and Gardan departed.
Prince Arutha sat in his chamber late into the night, weighing and judging the warning brought by the renegade moredhel chieftain, and no matter how often he wanted to put it aside as a charade, or nothing more than the jockeying for domination between factions in the moredhel nations, he couldn’t. Another war was coming; he could feel it in his bones. Unless his prized agent, a former thief turned courtier, could somehow steal that war out of the very hands of those who sought to unleash it.
Arutha picked up a bell on his table and rang it. Instantly a page appeared at the door. ‘‘Highness?’’
‘‘Send word to the guard to notify me the moment Seigneur James returns to the palace, whatever the hour.’’
‘‘Highness,’’ said the page, closing the door as he left to do as he was bid.
Arutha still didn’t return to his own quarters, for even having made the decision to send Jimmy with Gorath to Romney, he had a thousand other questions to consider, and foremost among them was ‘‘Who are The Six?’’
Gorath was awake as soon as the door began to open. He rose, fists ready, for while unarmed, he was ready to defend himself. He was not confident that no assassin could find his way into the palace. He remembered events from many years ago where the Princess of Krondor almost died at the hands of one employed by Murmandamus.
Gorath relaxed when he saw his visitor was Squire James.
‘‘Greetings,’’ said the young man.
‘‘Greetings,’’ said Gorath. He sat down in a chair next to a window overlooking a garden. ‘‘Am I to be questioned again?’’
‘‘No,’’ said James. ‘‘We’re going on a trip to Romney.’’
Gorath rose. ‘‘As I have nothing to pack, I am ready.’’
‘‘Provisions are prepared, though we will be traveling light.’’
Gorath said, ‘‘I expected an escort of at least a full company against attack on the road to Romney.’’
James smiled, and said, ‘‘Too much noise and bother.’’ He reached into his tunic and pulled out an odd-looking device, an orb with tiny levers on it that could be adjusted by one’s thumb. ‘‘And we’re not riding.’’
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‘‘How are we getting there?’’ came a voice from behind James.
James turned to find Owyn standing behind him.
‘‘ We are not going. Gorath and I are. You are staying here or heading home to Timons, as pleases you.’’
‘‘I can’t stay here,’’ said Owyn. ‘‘I’ve got nothing to do, and I’m not in the Prince’s service. And I can’t go back to Timons.
What if I’m captured along the way and made to talk?’’
James smiled. ‘‘What do you know?’’
‘‘I know you’re bound for Romney,’’ said Owyn.
‘‘How do you know that?’’
‘‘I know how to read a map, and I overheard enough between Gorath and Locklear to know that’s where I’d be heading next.’’
Owyn hurried on in his pleading, ‘‘Besides, I’m from the East and know my way around back there. I’ve got cousins in Ran, Cavell, and Dolth and have visited Silden and Romney.’’
James shook his head, as if remembering something, and said, ‘‘Never mind. I seem to recall that Locklear and I made a similar brief to someone who didn’t want us along, as well, many years ago. Very well, you can come. It’s better to have you underfoot than out of sight and dead, I guess.’’
James led them to an empty room in another part of the castle, where weapons and travel items were piled. Gorath picked up one sword, and said, ‘‘A lamprey!’’
‘‘That’s a bloodsucker, all right,’’ said James, ‘‘but why do you call it that?’’
‘‘A name, that’s all,’’ said Gorath. ‘‘My people did not always live in the mountains, human. Once we abided on the shores of the Bitter Sea.’’ He admired the curve of the blade and weighed the heft of the hilt in his hand. He put the sword back in its scabbard, and said, ‘‘I will not ask how you came to possess a blade fashioned by my people.’’
James said, ‘‘As you might expect.’’ He pointed to two backpacks. ‘‘Food and other stores, for we may have to do some traveling, but for the most part I hope we’re able to conduct our business quickly and be out of Romney.’’
‘‘Where’s Locky?’’ asked Owyn.
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will meet with him after we’re done in Romney. This isn’t the only iron in the fire, so to speak, though it may be the most important.’’
They picked up their belongings, and Owyn asked, ‘‘Now what?’’
Again James produced the orb, and said, ‘‘Stand close by.
Gorath, place your hand on my shoulder, and Owyn, yours on his.’’ James put his left hand on Owyn’s shoulder, and with the right, activated the orb.
There was a buzz in the air, and the room around them seemed to shimmer. Suddenly they were in a different room.
‘‘Where are we?’’ asked Gorath.
‘‘Malac’s Cross.’’ James crossed to open the door and peered out. ‘‘We are in a building owned by friends of the Prince’s, and I had best lead, else you may find your head split before you can identify yourself.’’
They were on the second floor of a building. As they descended the stairs, a monk in plain grey robes turned a corner and stared openmouthed at them. ‘‘Ah—’’ he began.
James held up his hand. ‘‘Tell Abbot Graves we’re here, brother.’’
The monk turned and hurried off to do as he was bid. James led them into what had obviously once been the common room of an inn. A large man with a short, grey-shot beard hurried over, and said, ‘‘Jimmy, you scoundrel! What is all this?’’ He indicated Gorath and Owyn.
‘‘Hello, Ethan. A person of some consequence desires to see us quickly on our way to the East, and back again. Using that Tsurani device was our fastest start.’’
‘‘So you come from Krondor?’’
James nodded yes. ‘‘Have you horses we might borrow?’’
‘‘No, but I’ll send a brother over to Yancy’s stable and get three. Care to tell me what this is about?’’
‘‘No,’’ said James. ‘‘Trust me.’’
The man named Ethan Graves said, ‘‘We go back a long way together, lad, to darker days when I was another man.
But while I hold your master in high regard, my loyalty now lies exclusively with the temple. If this is some matter of concern to the Temple of Ishap, you should tell me.’’
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James shrugged. ‘‘If I can, I will, but at this point all I have is conjecture and speculation. Still, let me say that it’s time to be wary.’’
Graves laughed. ‘‘We are always wary. Why else buy this inn and turn it into an abbey on the fly?’’
‘‘Are things . . . well?’’
Graves said, ‘‘Go see yourself. You know the spot.’’
‘‘Will you have horses ready when we return?’’
‘‘And whatever else you need.’’
‘‘Just horses. We have our necessaries in hand.’’ He indicated the packs they carried.
He removed his pack, and said to the others, ‘‘Come with me. We’ll be back for these in an hour.’’
They left the inn, and Owyn looked over his shoulder. It was a modest building, two stories tall, with a stabling yard, a pair of outbuildings near the barn, and a storage shed. It sat on the outskirts of a modest-looking town, which stretched off to the east. Monks of Ishap were hard at work replacing the wooden fence around the end of the property with stone.
‘‘What is all this?’’ asked Gorath, as they walked southward, down a path through some woodlands.
‘‘An abandoned inn, which has been taken over by the Temple of Ishap. They are converting it to an abbey.’’
‘‘To what ends?’’ asked Gorath.
‘‘There’s something not too far from here they wish to keep an eye on.’’
‘‘Which is?’’ asked Owyn.
‘‘Something neither of you needs to know about.’’
They walked for about ten minutes, James leading them along a path through the woods. They reached a clearing, and Gorath halted, momentarily startled by what he saw. Rising up before them was a statue, perfect in detail, of a recumbent dragon, its head upon the ground, its wings unfolding as if it was just about to rise up.
‘‘What is this?’’ asked the dark elf. He walked around it, inspecting it closely.
‘‘This is the Oracle of Aal,’’ said James. He indicated a votive offering plate on the ground before the dragon.
Owyn said, ‘‘I thought it but a legend.’’
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‘‘Like many legends, one based in truth,’’ said James. He motioned to the plate. ‘‘Toss in a coin and touch the dragon.’’
Owyn fished out a silver coin from his pouch and tossed it into the plate. A moment before it touched the surface of the plate, the coin vanished. Owyn reached out and touched the dragon . . .
And was someplace else. It was a large chamber; immense was more accurate, thought Owyn. Air moved in the chamber with the stately leisure of ages, and before Owyn reared up a dragon of gigantic proportions,
the head resting upon the ground larger than the largest wagon Owyn had ever seen. The creature’s body was resplendent in gems of all hues: diamonds predominated, but emeralds, sapphires, rubies, and opals formed patterns that swirled on the dragon’s back, and made her look as though she wore a shimmering rainbow. It was hard to look away.
‘‘I’m asleep?’’ asked Owyn.
‘‘In a fashion. But quickly, you tread a dangerous path. What would you ask of the Oracle of Aal?’’
‘‘I find myself caught up in something I don’t understand, yet I feel compelled to continue with my companions. Is this wise?’’
‘‘At journey’s end you shall not be as you are now, nor may you ever return the way you have come. The days ahead of you are filled with hardship, and many times to come you will think yourself less significant than you truly are.’’
‘‘Can I trust the moredhel, Gorath?’’
‘‘He is more than even he knows himself to be. Trust him, though he will not always trust himself. He will become a great champion, even to those who curse his name and will never know of his greatness.’’
Suddenly Owyn felt his knees go weak and he faltered.
Strong hands grabbed him, holding him upright. He blinked and was again standing before the statue. ‘‘What?’’
‘‘Are you all right?’’ asked Gorath. ‘‘You touched the statue and seemed to falter.’’
‘‘I was someplace else,’’ said Owyn. ‘‘How long was I gone?’’
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‘‘Gone?’’ said Gorath. ‘‘You weren’t gone. You but touched the statue and staggered slightly, then I grabbed your arm.’’
‘‘It seemed longer,’’ said Owyn.
‘‘It happens that way, sometimes,’’ said James, touching the stone. He withdrew his hand a moment later. ‘‘Who gets to speak to the Oracle is the Oracle’s choice. What did she say to you?’’
Owyn glanced at Gorath and James. ‘‘Only that I must trust . . . you both.’’
‘‘Did the Oracle say anything useful?’’ asked James, gripping Owyn by the arm.
‘‘Only that the days ahead are filled with hardship.’’
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