"Really! Just what is the worst part?" The girl's face had grown quite pale, though her voice was remarkably steady.
"The worst part is that, if you die here, you will doom the future of magic on Krynn."
15
A Subject
We should carve out her eyes—then make her be our maidservant! Imagine her, tottering around through the Tower, groping about in the kitchen, unable to see a thing! And every time she breaks a dish or spills a drink, we'll cut off a finger. Yes, that would be diverting, don't you agree?"
Kalrakin's eyes glowed as he made the suggestion, all but licking his lips. "It has been too long since we have had real flesh and blood for our pleasure!"
"Well, yes, I rather think that would amuse us momentarily," Luthar replied tentatively. "But perhaps there is a more suitable use we can put her to. She might know some secrets about this tower, after all. It is rather startling that she came here like this, is it not? Quite unanticipated!"
"Bah, look at her. It's an accident of fate. She's a callow youth! She can know nothing of wizardry!" The tall sorcerer's eyes narrowed as he glowered at his rotund companion. "Or do you have baser desires, my old friend? True, she is an attractive morsel, but I thought you had given up entanglements with female flesh? Was that not part of our mutual vow?"
"Oh, very much, my lord! No, I do not want to take her, not like that. But see how the old man is warming to her, welcoming her. He is treating her like a queen, as if he seems to think she might be important!"
"That old man talked to us, too. For a moment, in any event." Kalrakin's laugh was a harsh bark.
"Well, he would have talked longer if you hadn't, uh, dealt with him! I still don't know why you couldn't have been more patient."
The two sorcerers were in one of the high chambers of the Tower of High Sorcery. A rubble of broken glass, ash, and other debris covered the floor of the large room. The one thing left undamaged was a window, a pane of dark glass mounted on the stone wall. It was a window with no view, barely revealing the face of the wall—at least so it had appeared originally.
Luthar, however, had discovered its true nature, after some contemplation. He had stood boldly in front of the window, when Kalrakin, in his fury, would have shattered it, flinging its parts across the floor.
"Look!" the short sorcerer had all but shrieked, waving his hands, using his own body as a shield. "Don't you understand? It is a magical window-it allows you to see beyond this place! Observe, my lord!"
Kalrakin, his massive beard twitching with frustration, had paused long enough for his fellow to demonstrate.
"Show us the dining hall of the foretower!" Luthar had commanded, nervously glancing at his companion, ¦ his lord. In a flash, the image of that chamber had appeared. It first displayed the empty table where they had grown used to taking their meals, in the vast hall that had once held countless priceless artifacts, talismans of ancient magic, squirreled away in numerous alcoves. With a little further experimentation Luthar had revealed a magical portal that allowed them to view any place within the Tower of High Sorcery.
Kalrakin had immediately seized upon the magical window with delight, commanding that it reveal to them the Hall of Mages—the huge, cavernous chamber in the North Tower where the twenty—one empty seats formed a circle in the center of the room. These stood silent and empty, and the sorcerer had mocked the power of the mages who had once ruled from their vantage. He had peered into the armories, the apprentice cells, the luxurious apartments where, presumably, these once mighty wizards had dwelled.
He had quickly learned that there were limits to the scope of this magical window. There were three rooms in the Tower that remained obscure to him, despite all of his efforts. Maddeningly, the window refused to grant him even a glimpse into these sacred precincts. His impulse, naturally, had been to smash the window, but Luthar had begged him to stay his vengeful fist.
Now, two weeks later, that restraint was finally paying off. Earlier, the sorcerers had observed, from a high window, the ragged-looking girl who emerged from the wilderness of the surrounding forest. They had watched with amazement as the magical gates of the compound parted for her, had watched her approach the door until their line of sight was blocked by the low bulk of the foretower.
It was Luthar who had suggested they continue to spy on her with the aid of the magical window, and so they had come here to enjoy the show. From here they had watched her find the food on the great banquet table, saw her sit down and eat like a starving beggar. And they had gasped in surprise when the white-bearded old mage had tottered into view.
"He's the man I killed—the first day we entered this place!" Kalrakin objected indignantly. "He wore black then, but I know him!"
"Well, certainly, so it seemed that he was dead," Luthar agreed diplomatically. "But if you recall, when you pierced him with that bolt of wild magic, his body disappeared. There was no corpse. At the time, we speculated that he might have been some sort of illusion. A magical phantom, as it were."
"You speculated. I saw a man die! I know that I killed him!"
"Perhaps he has a twin, then. For this appears to be the same person, now speaking to the lass." Luthar bit his lip, as if afraid that his tone had crossed the realm into insolence, but his master did not seem to notice.
"Bah—this portal is useless unless I can hear their words!" cursed Kalrakin, gesturing contemptuously at the window. "I am no lip-reader!" He turned and stalked away from the window, intending to confront the old man and the young girl in the dining room below, but Luthar, jogging behind frantically, urged patience.
"I beg you—don't attack her!" Luthar cried. "At least, not right away. She may be able to tell us something important, provide information. We may even want to leave her eyes intact, at least for the time being." Boldly, Luthar reached out to tug on Kalrakin's robe, bringing the gaunt sorcerer to an immediate, angry halt.
"How dare you?" the taller man spat, spinning furiously around.
"But think!" Luthar leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. "She may be the secret, the key to opening the treasure rooms—those chambers that have remained barred to us! Perhaps the doors will yield to her for some reason."
Kalrakin scowled. His long fingers stroked the wiry hairs of his bushy beard, tugging absently at tangles and knots. Eyes narrowed, he squinted down at his companion. "Hmmm. You might be right," he acknowledged. "At least, we will see what the wench has to say."
"Thank you, my lord—it is a wise decision!"
"But as for the old white beard, he dies again—and this time I intend to see that he stays dead!"
Coryn took a bite of fish, followed that with another slice of delicious fruit, some sort of sweet melon, she guessed, and then washed the mouthful down with a swig of icy-cold milk. She felt as though she hadn't eaten in weeks. Besides, this was the most sumptuous meal she had ever enjoyed, and she was determined to take advantage of it, murderous sorcerers or not.
"Tell me more about this Test," she said, after another swallow, turning to query the white-bearded Master of the Tower. "Hey, where did you go?" she gasped, startled to see that she was, once again, alone in the large banquet hall. She was even more startled when a new voice, raspier and harsher than the Master's, came from behind her.
"He fled; he fears me, and with good reason."
She whirled to see a tall, forbiddingly whiskered person, standing in the doorway through which she had entered. He wore a tattered gray robe, the same nondescript color of his hair, whose eyes were the eyes of a madman, wild and staring and very frightening.
"What do you mean?" she asked, chilled by this newcomer's sudden appearance, and by the realization that he had seemed to be reading her thoughts.
"I killed him once, when I first arrived here. And I would have done it again if he had but waited for my entrance."
"Who are you?" she demanded as the man advanced into the dining room. His face was gaunt behind the massive effusion of his beard, and thos
e crazed eyes were sunk into deep sockets, like wells in the face of his skull. From within those caves, his eyes sparked and glittered, fastening on Coryn's face with an almost physical intensity. She had never seen such a tall person, nor one so frightening. His hands twitched with nervous energy, and she saw that he was passing a white, smooth stone back and forth from hand to hand. She remembered the Master's words-the warning that there was an evil being in the Tower-and did not doubt that this was the evil.
He raised a long, slender finger, wagging it toward her. The pearly gem was tucked into the palm of this hand, and she saw that it glowed with a pale, sickly brightness.
"You are the traveler, come seeking sustenance and shelter." His tone was stern, rebuking. "You break in, stealing my food-"
I did not break in! she thought, then immediately did her best to control her thoughts. There was something edgy, unpredictable, about his man, and she did not want to agitate him any more than she had already. He loomed over her, glaring down, and she sensed a coiled violence, an evil barely restrained. "I did not mean any offense," she said calmly.
"And you dare to ask my name? Insolent child! It is I who should be asking for a name, a purpose," he continued. "Who are you?"
For the first time, Coryn noticed a second man, shorter than the first, short-bearded and rotund, looking at her almost apologetically as he slunk into the room behind the first. Remembering the words of the Master, describing one sorcerer who was far more dangerous than his companion, she had no trouble determining which was which. She faced her interrogator with her head held high-it was the only way she could look up into his unsettling eyes-and made her own tone as solemn as she could.
"My name is Coryn Brinefolk. I come from the Icereach, the village of Two Forks. And I did not come seeking shelter- I was invited in. The door opened to admit me."
"I know of thieves who have been hung for less blatant infractions," said the man dourly. He took another step closer, allowed his eyes to sweep over the array of foods on the table. Coryn felt a stab of protective jealousy-it was her food! -but he made no move to reach for a morsel. Instead he looked at her as if she were just another item on the buffet.
The young woman fought her fear. This tall, lanky person menaced her in a way she had never felt before, not even in the midst of Samuval's bandits. A small, cowardly voice in the back of her mind urged her to turn and run, right through the anteroom and out the front door, never looking back.
She clenched her jaw, stifling that voice and stiffening her resolve. It wasn't just for herself that she was going to stay- she could feel an emanation, almost a plea, arising from the walls and the floor around her. She remembered the suffering and pain she had sensed within the Tower, which had been affirmed by the Master. She knew that this man, this interloper, was the enemy of the Tower. She was needed here.
"How did you get here?" asked the second man. "Oh, pardon me," he added hastily. "We don't get many visitors. Any, in point of truth. But our manners, I'm afraid, have lapsed. My name is Luthar, and my master, here, is Kalrakin. Perhaps you would care to finish your meal, before you talk to us?"
The tall man glowered at her-and Luthar—during this pleasant speech. Coryn could see that the one named Kalrakin was the real power, the real danger, here. She would not allow his compatriot to lull her with pretty words.
"I have had enough food, for the time being," she said. She saw Luthar's eyes widen suddenly, surprised; she spun around to see that the entire meal, including all the dishes and utensils, had soundlessly vanished.
"Perhaps you can now trouble yourself to answer our questions," Kalrakin snapped with a bored look. "What are you doing here?"
She drew a breath, deciding that boldness would be her best tactic. "I have come to take the Test of Magic!"
She wasn't sure what to expect from her announcement, but the contortion across the whiskered face of the tall man frightened her deeply—then it made her mad. Before he could speak, she lashed out.
"Who are you to make such a fuss anyway?" she demanded. "I was invited here, and I came!" She felt a growing sense of righteousness, certain that she belonged here as much as or more than this bearded maniac. However, he was powerful-she glanced again at that pearly gem and shivered inside.
As if sensing her wavering, Kalrakin flicked his hand. The floorboards under Coryn's feet rippled. She tumbled to the side, watching from a sitting position as three stout beams twisted and warped, snapping like twigs.
A moment later, she felt a surge of fresh agony, a thrumming of deep pain that washed over her through the floor, the air, the very essence of the Tower.
"Stop it!" she shouted, clenching her fists. Trembling with fury, she jumped up and faced him. Her mind flitted through the few spells that she knew. Somehow, however, she sensed that her feeble magic missiles would prove but sputtering fireworks in the face of this sorcerer's obvious great power.
She instinctively grasped the nature of the conflict in which she had become involved. It was wild magic that tortured the Tower, that had broken apart the floor under her feet-the same she had turned to her own purposes since she was a little girl. But she understood one more very important fact.
Wild magic was blasphemy here.
"I am here to take the Test, and I intend to do just that," she repeated, keeping her tone level, giving no hint that her knees threatened to turn into water.
"You dare to make such pronouncements?" Kalrakin sneered contemptuously. "You will not take this test-and your very life itself depends on my pleasure. Have a care with your tongue, girl!"
"My lord!" Luthar spoke urgently, immediately drawing the taller man's attention. Kalrakin lowered his hooked beak, which, Coryn saw, extended outward and down over the tangled nest of his bristling mustache.
"What?" he demanded.
"Please, let us confer discreetly." The shorter man stepped backward through the arched entryway, beckoning his companion, who, after another glowering look at Coryn, followed Luthar out of the room.
She let out a long, tremulous sigh, relieved to be alone again, even if it was only for a few minutes. Picking up her chair from where it had toppled onto the floor, she sat down heavily, feeling the trembling of nerves in her limbs as she tried to think what to do.
Coryn's plan had progressed no farther than an admonition to herself: "Be careful!" when the two men returned to the room. This time Kalrakin halted a few steps behind, and it was Luthar who advanced toward her. His round face was beaming, but she glared over his shoulder at the tall sorcerer, unwilling to be softened by charm or blandishments.
"Of course, you shall take the Test," Luthar said graciously. "And please forgive our initial surprise. In fact, you are the first visitor to arrive here since we made this Tower our home. You must understand that we are new to these duties—but of course, as you say, this is the Tower where the Test is given, and naturally this is what you have come here to do."
Coryn knew that this Tower was no more home to these men than it was to bugbears, but she decided to let the point pass, for now. A truce had been offered, she realized, and though the very thought was repugnant to her-and the Tower—she understood that she could buy some time.
"Thank you," she said, still watching Kalrakin.
"Now, it will take some time, perhaps a day, to make all the necessary preparations," continued Luthar smoothly. "There are several very nice guest suites in the Tower, and you are welcome to have your pick of them. Perhaps you would care to rest, refresh yourself, in readiness?"
"Yes," she replied, standing up. Her eyes never left Kalrakin's face; she could sense the emotions roiling inside the towering sorcerer, knew that he was forcing himself to go along with Luthar's hospitality. But why?
"I will look at the guest suites immediately," she said, speaking as she imagined a great noble lady would. She addressed Luthar but stared defiantly at Kalrakin as she walked out of the dining room.
"And I will take the one with the strongest lock on the d
oor."
16
A Fence around a Forest
She is a slippery one," Jenna said in a mixture of disgust and admiration. The red robe she was wearing was dusty and damp as the enchantress came wearily up to Dalamar. The dark elf was sitting on a moldy log, his head in his hands. "I thought she would be too frightened, too overwhelmed by the wilderness, to try to sneak away. Yet she has vanished utterly! Lunitari knows, we've looked everywhere up and down the trail. Where could she be? Damn it, what if something has happened to her?"
"Silly of her to run off like that," Dalamar said, shaking his head wearily. "You must have given her the scare of her life, with your heated outbursts-not to mention your invisible cone of silence."
"I'm not the one who tried to take advantage of her!" the Red Robe retorted. "Come on. She is hiding her tracks. We have to try to think like her and figure out where she went." She tugged on the lead, and the three heavily laden mules shuffled their feet with a barely perceptible shift in momentum. The enchantress cursed under her breath. "I never knew how good Coryn was with these mules. These animals are as stubborn as, well, mules!"
"We've already wasted a day searching for a trail that vanished on dry stone," Dalamar said, raising his hand to stop her momentarily. "If I were to guess, I'd say she went looking for the Tower. Why not? She heard us talk about it, over and over. She knows it's supposed to be in the vicinity. Why don't you give me access to your artifacts and see what I can find out?"
The red-robed mage narrowed her eyes. "You have nothing left of your old life? Not your spell book, not a ring, or a staff, or even a few bottles of potion? You don't have a lot of bargaining power, not much to offer me in return."
"On the contrary," Dalamar retorted. "We are partners in this quest. We are both looking for the Tower, but we both know that we will need the most powerful wizard of each of our three orders, working in concert, to restore the powers of godly magic. I know that you are the mistress of the Red, and I am the master of Black. And there is no White wizard anywhere, so far as we have been able to learn. But you and I both know that for some reason-perhaps he is losing his wits, in the wake of his return to our world-Solinari has appointed this naif, this silly wench, as his own champion. She is destined to wear the White Robes!"
Wizard's Conclave Page 14
