From the look on Crystalorn’s face, that aspect of the situation had not occurred to her. “I suppose you’re right again,” she said after a moment. “But we’ll have to explain Amberglas to Salentor anyway, won’t we? It shouldn’t be any harder to explain two people than one.”
“Not necessarily,” said Amberglas. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“Question?” Crystalorn looked bewildered.
“About reconsidering,” Amberglas explained gently.
Jermain blinked, then shook his head. “I beg your pardon, but no, I can’t. It would be foolish for me to go back now, and it would only bring trouble to you as well.”
“People can be so inconsistent,” Amberglas said, smiling vaguely at him. “I knew a man once who wore half a mustache because he couldn’t make up his mind whether he liked mustaches or not. I believe it was the left half, though it wasn’t precisely inconsistent, now that I think of it. So perhaps it didn’t seem foolish to you to be in Sevairn three days ago.”
“If it hadn’t been a foolish thing to try, the Border Guard wouldn’t have come so close to killing me,” Jermain said, struggling to keep his temper. “In any case, I won’t go back until I know how they learned where I was so quickly. Do not try to persuade me.”
“Very well, I won’t,” said Amberglas.
Crystalorn was staring at Jermain with wide eyes. “You mean the Border Guard was ready to kill you just for going back into Sevairn? What did you do, anyway?”
Jermain shifted uncomfortably without speaking. Crystalorn opened her mouth to speak again, then stopped abruptly. Her eyes narrowed, and she turned to Balandare.
“Why haven’t I heard anything about this, whatever it is? Salentor was supposed to teach me everything important that’s happened in Sevairn in the past ten years, but he never mentioned anyone named Trevannon.”
“Perhaps Lord Salentor did not consider Lord Jermain’s dismissal important,” Balandare said. “Though I will admit, I am surprised.”
“When a King’s Adviser does something bad enough that he gets thrown out of the kingdom, it’s important,” Crystalorn said flatly. “Particularly if it happened recently. Salentor should have told me.”
“I agree, Your Highness,” Balandare said. “But no doubt Lord Salentor has good reasons.”
Jermain suppressed a snort. Lord Salentor Parel had spent two years as Barinash’s ambassador to Sevairn, just after Barinash’s abortive attempt at invasion. Jermain remembered him well, liked him little, and trusted him not at all. He was greedy, ambitious, and without conscience; Jermain found himself wondering suddenly just why Salentor was so interested in the marriage between Eltiron and Crystalorn. And why hadn’t the man mentioned Jermain’s exile? There was a pattern in this somewhere; there must be.
“People generally do,” Amberglas said, breaking Jermain’s concentration. “Or at least, they think they do, though quite often other people disagree, which isn’t at all surprising when you think of what odd ideas some people have. I wonder what Salentor’s odd ideas are?”
“Well, I’m going to ask him about his reasons when we get back,” Crystalorn said. “And they’d better be good ones.”
“Then, Your Highness, I believe we should start back soon,” Balandare said. “Or Lord Salentor may be more interested in asking questions than in answering them. Torfil cannot make excuses for us forever.”
“Oh, all right,” Crystalorn said. “Amberglas, are you ready to leave? You haven’t packed anything.”
“I think perhaps you had better start without me,” Amberglas said. “A great many things do—start without someone, I mean—and it makes very little difference to most of them. In fact, I believe the seventh Queen of Mournwal’s coronation started without her, though one can’t always be certain that the historians are correct about things. Of course, it would be rather difficult to finish a coronation without someone to crown, but that is an entirely different thing, and there are always a great many people willing to be crowned if one can’t find the proper person at the right moment. Still, it would be rather awkward. So you had better go on, and I will join you in a little while.”
Crystalorn attempted to argue, but Balandare’s diplomatic insistence and Amberglas’s rambling refusals were more than she could handle at the same time. Finally she abandoned the effort, and in a few minutes more, she and Balandare took their leave. Amberglas watched from the doorway until the sound of the horses’ hooves had died away. Then she turned back to look at Jermain.
Jermain bowed. “Once again, I thank you for your hospitality and bid you farewell.”
He stepped forward, then stopped. Amberglas had not moved out of the doorway. “That’s quite unnecessary, though of course very courteous; still, it would be far more helpful if you would tell me whom to speak to in Sevairn.”
“Speak to?”
“Certainly. How can I deliver a message for you if I don’t speak to someone? Unless you write it down, which is perfectly possible; at least it would be if I had anything for you to write on. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything just at the moment, which is very inconvenient, unless of course you don’t wish to write your message, in which case it doesn’t matter.”
With an effort, Jermain fought down a sudden, wild hope and forced himself to think clearly. A moment later, he shook his head. “Lady, I know King Marreth well, and I suspect that the mere mention of my name at court is now cause for suspicion of treason. Delivering a message for me . . . I cannot ask you to take such a risk.”
“You didn’t ask me,” Amberglas said. “I daresay you’ve forgotten, or else you didn’t notice, though I don’t see how you managed to be a King’s Adviser for six years if your memory is as bad as that.”
“This has nothing to do with my memory!” Jermain said. “Don’t you realize how dangerous it could be?”
“Do you think so?” said Amberglas, looking faintly interested. “But then, a great many things can be dangerous, especially if one is careless, and some of them are quite ordinary. Walking down wet stairs, for instance, or chopping carrots, or juggling someone else’s Dangil china cups. So it won’t necessarily be particularly exciting.”
“Exciting!” Jermain took two deliberately slow breaths. “No. I can’t. I won’t. Marreth’s been executing spies; one mistake and he’d have your head. Not to mention exiling whomever he caught you talking to.”
Amberglas blinked at him. “Dear me. Perhaps you had better write it down after all.”
“I am not,” Jermain said carefully, “going to give you a message.”
“Well, I suppose I will have to manage without one, then. Still, it’s a pity; mistakes can be so very awkward.”
For a moment, Jermain stood staring, utterly taken aback. Amberglas could not possibly mean to deliver a nonexistent message from Jermain to some unknown person in Leshiya. He looked at her again and changed his mind; that was exactly what she meant to do, and the only way he could prevent her was to give her a real message. Either way, she would be taking a grave risk. Unless . . . There was one person in Leshiya who would not be penalized for receiving a message from Jermain; Marreth could hardly exile his own son.
“I’ll give you a message, then,” Jermain said in a voice he barely recognized as his own. “Tell Prince Eltiron that all his dissembling will not keep the Hoven-Thalar from overrunning Sevairn. And tell him . . . tell him I will not forget what he and Terrel did.”
“I will tell him.” Amberglas remained where she was, regarding Jermain with an air of great preoccupation. “I don’t suppose you’ve decided where you’re going next?”
“To Gramwood, and then to Mournwal,” Jermain said. “They have little hope of withstanding such a horde as the Hoven-Thalar can raise, but I must at least warn them.”
Amberglas nodded, looking, if possible, even more preoccupied than before. “Yes, I see, though I can’t think what good it will do you there; but then, things are often useful in the most peculiar places. I knew
a man in Tar-Alem who used his mother’s sword for hoeing cabbages, though Tar-Alem isn’t really much more peculiar than other places, so perhaps it isn’t the same at all. Of course, it wasn’t intended to be particularly useful, but one never knows, and I do hope you’ll take it anyway.”
“What? What are you—” Jermain caught himself just before the words “babbling about” slipped out. Amberglas did not seem to notice.
“The medallion I’m going to give you,” she said. She reached into the pocket of her skirt, pulled out a small package, and held it out to Jermain.
Jermain hesitated, then reached out and took the package. The wrappings were slightly dusty; he pulled them away and was absurdly relieved to find only a heavy brass medallion on a chain, the kind used by professional messengers for identification and safe conduct. With a slight shock, Jermain realized that he had been half afraid the package would contain some sort of magic amulet, and he almost laughed aloud. What had made him think that any sorceress, however absentminded, would give something like that to a chance acquaintance? Still, he was glad that the gift was relatively ordinary; he had no wish to become involved in affairs of sorcery.
He looked up and found Amberglas watching him. “Thank you,” he said. “This will be very useful.”
“I thought it might be,” Amberglas said with some satisfaction. “Useful to you, I mean; it isn’t likely to be useful to me, except as a paperweight, though one can’t always tell. Particularly since you’ve been exiled, which can make traveling very difficult because so many places have guards who ask a great many unpleasant questions and insist on knowing who one is before they will let one in. Or out. Which can be extremely inconvenient, though sometimes it isn’t.”
Jermain nodded. Briefly, he wondered how Amberglas had come by the medallion, then dismissed the question; it was no concern of his. He slipped the chain over his head and adjusted it, then bowed and thanked her again. She murmured something polite but rather vague and at last stepped out of the doorway and let him by. Jermain made a somewhat hasty farewell and left the tower.
When he reached the stable, he found Blackflame’s saddle and bridle hanging by the door of the stall. On the floor below them were Jermain’s saddlebags, which seemed considerably fuller than he remembered. Uneasily, he wondered how she had known he would be leaving today; she certainly had had no time to replenish them since he’d announced his departure. He shrugged; if Amberglas was determined to provide him with supplies, he would certainly not throw them away.
Jermain saddled Blackflame and led him out of the stable. The tower door was open, but Jermain saw no sign of Amberglas. Feeling slightly disappointed, he glanced about the clearing to check his directions, then turned to Blackflame. The medallion swung against his chest as he mounted, and after a moment’s thought Jermain lifted it and dropped it down the neck of his tunic. Few messengers displayed the medallions openly without need; he would attract less attention with it out of sight. He shrugged twice to get the chain in a comfortable position, and rode out of the clearing.
The weather was warm, hovering between late spring and early summer, and Jermain made good time. His side bothered him not at all, and by nightfall he was well south of the tower. The following day he reached the River Clemmar. He turned Blackflame east along the river’s bank, looking for a place where he could ford it. This part of the Clemmar ran narrow, swift, and deep, and he could not risk Blackflame being injured in the crossing. One stumble, or one rock flung too forcefully by the current, and Jermain might lose days waiting for the horse to heal.
At last Jermain found a spot that suited him, and, after checking the fastenings on the saddlebags, he urged Blackflame into the water. The crossing was uneventful, though twice the horse had to swim when the river grew too deep. They reached the opposite bank in soaking safety, and Jermain stopped at once and built a fire to dry his clothes and Blackflame’s gear. While his tunic and cloak steamed on a rock beside the fire, Jermain gave his horse a thorough rubdown.
By the time Jermain finished, his tunic was dry enough to wear. He put it on and made sure Amberglas’s medallion was concealed beneath it, then examined the cloak. The heavy wool was still too damp for comfort. Jermain was trying to decide whether to continue once the cloak was dry or simply camp where he was when he heard a rustling from the woods behind him.
Jermain was on his feet in an instant. Three strides put the fire between him and the source of the noise. As he loosened his sword in its sheath, he saw a dark-haired man on a bay stallion riding slowly through the trees toward him.
The rider stopped just within speaking distance. He looked about forty, and he was dressed in dark blue velvet and a cloak of gray wool. His eyes were black and intelligent, and he had an air of decisiveness about him that Jermain liked. Jermain noted with surprise that he wore a dagger at his belt in place of a sword. Either he is very brave, or he is very foolish, Jermain thought. Possibly both, though he looks more like a warrior than a fool.
“I crave your pardon for this intrusion,” said the horseman after a moment, “but I have been traveling for some time and your fire was too inviting to resist. May I join you for a while?”
Jermain did not reply at once. He was well aware that his own appearance was barely respectable, and he wondered why a lone traveler would risk approaching him. Still, Jermain did not wish to refuse hospitality merely because of a few doubts, particularly when talking to the horseman was probably the only way he could ever learn the answers to his questions. He let his hand rest on the hilt of his sword with deceptive casualness. “You are welcome, sir.”
“I thank you.” The horseman dismounted and tethered the bay, then seated himself by the fire. “May I know your name?”
“Trevannon.”
“Ah.” The satisfaction in the man’s voice was unmistakable. “Then you are the man I have been looking for these past six months.”
Jermain tensed. “Indeed?” he said, trying to sound casual. “I’m afraid I don’t see why.”
“You have information I need and skills I want,” the man said promptly. He smiled. “It’s a common enough reason, I’m afraid, but true nonetheless.”
“Perhaps.” Jermain allowed his skepticism to creep into his tone. He was not the only man in the Seven Kingdoms to possess experience or skills of swordplay, and he doubted that anyone would risk a king’s enmity for such common abilities. That left three possibilities: his knowledge of Sevairn, his knowledge of the Hoven-Thalar, or his presumed treason. “What skills do you need, and why do you come to me to find them?”
“I know your reputation. I’ve been looking for you since I heard of your exile, but you went south too quickly for me.”
“I won’t betray Sevairn,” Jermain said abruptly.
The traveler raised an eyebrow, but all he said was “I have little interest in Sevairn at present, but I will bear that in mind.”
Jermain felt himself flushing. “Why should you want a man who has been convicted of treason? How do you know I won’t ‘betray’ you?”
“Because you didn’t betray Marreth,” the man said flatly.
Jermain’s eyes narrowed in surprise. The man looked at him sharply and went on. “You were exiled for giving unpopular advice, no matter what name Marreth chose to put on it. What difference should that make to me, as long as the advice was good as well as unpopular? And the advice was certainly good.”
“How do you know?” Jermain said.
“You told Marreth to arm Sevairn because the nomads will move north this summer, did you not? I have my own sources in the south, and I do not think you are wrong. If I had known in time, I might have . . . But it is far too late for that now. Still, I think I can use your services, if you are willing to join me.”
“Who are you?” Jermain demanded.
The man hesitated an instant, then looked straight at Jermain. “My name is Carachel.”
Jermain felt his eyes widening. “The Wizard-King of Tar-Alem!”
&
nbsp; Carachel nodded. “Some call me that.”
“Then I fail to see, my lord, what use you may have for my services,” Jermain said. “Who can advise a wizard?”
“I am more interested in your other skills,” Carachel said. “The Hoven-Thalar move northward this summer, and I want you to command my army against them. Will you?”
CHAPTER 5
By the time Vandaris finally arrived, Eltiron was beginning to think he had imagined the whole conversation between Terrel and the unknown man. He had almost decided not to mention it, but Vandaris saw the way he started when she opened the tower door, and she demanded an explanation.
“It was Terrel,” Eltiron said reluctantly. “He was out here with someone when I got here; at least, I think he was.”
“So you’re afraid enough of Terrel Lassond that you jump when a door opens? Fire and sand snakes, what’s the man done to earn that kind of reaction? Now, if you’d said it was me you were worried about, I’d believe you had reason.”
“If it were only Terrel, I wouldn’t have been so tense,” Eltiron said, stung.
“Well, explain, then, and convince me.”
“You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Try me, squash head. I’ve seen a lot more strange things outside Sevairn than you’ll ever know about.”
Eltiron sighed inwardly and explained. To his surprise, Vandaris seemed to believe him. She listened without interrupting until he finished his tale, then shook her head.
“So Lassond is taking orders from someone. I wonder what they’re after? I think I must make a point of allowing him to meet me sometime soon.”
“You haven’t seen him yet? But you’ve been here nearly three days! Terrel must be busier than usual; he hardly ever waits that long before he calls on guests.”
Vandaris smiled nastily. “He isn’t waiting by choice; I’ve been stalling him. Fortunately for him, he’s finally starting to sound interesting. Now, about this person Lassond was talking to. Are you sure he couldn’t have hidden on the stairs while you went by?”
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