It occurred to him suddenly that he did not want the wedding to be canceled. But how was he ever going to explain that to Crystalorn, after he’d let this kind of rumor start? “Now what do I do?” he muttered.
“Think about it before you do anything,” Vandaris said. “Even a snail brain like Reistron gives good advice once in a while. If you intend to be a reasonably good king, you’ll have to learn to tell when.”
“You mean you think he’s right?”
“I meant what I said, stone skull, and not a featherweight more. I learned a long time ago not to give people advice about getting married. It’s not worth the effort; they never listen anyway unless they figure it out for themselves. So stop thinking with your temper and start using your brain. You might start by considering who wanted Sevairn and Barinash allied, and why.”
Eltiron frowned. Terrel was the one who had talked Marreth into the wedding, and from what Crystalorn had said, Salentor had persuaded her father to consent. Both advisers were involved somehow with Carachel, but why would Carachel favor an alliance between Sevairn and Barinash? Eltiron could think of nothing, but the idea that the Wizard-King of Tar-Alem might be interested in his marriage to Crystalorn made him profoundly uneasy.
His thoughts were interrupted by a perfunctory knock at the door. An instant later, Tarilane burst into the room. “Vandi! We just—Oh, good morning, Your Majesty. Vandi, Amberglas wants you to come to that Lord Terrel’s room right away. She says she’s found something important. At least, I think that’s what she said.”
Vandaris was on her feet before Tarilane stopped speaking. Eltiron followed more slowly, considering. At the door he stopped and looked at Tarilane. “Would you find Princess Crystalorn and tell her, too?”
“But I—Oh, all right, Your Majesty.”
“Don’t worry; we’ll see that nothing exciting happens before you get there,” Vandaris said dryly.
Tarilane gave her a disgusted look and left. Vandaris turned to Eltiron and grinned. “Made your decision already, hmmm?”
“She ought to be there, that’s all,” Eltiron said. “Salentor was involved in Terrel’s plotting somehow, and he might have had something to do with Father’s death. Whatever Amberglas has learned, Crystalorn has a right to know about it.”
“Praiseworthy sentiments,” Vandaris murmured, but her lips twitched as she turned and started down the corridor.
They reached Terrel’s rooms before Crystalorn, but not by much. She and Tarilane arrived moments later, looking flushed and out of breath, just as Vandaris raised her hand to knock on the door. Crystalorn gave Eltiron a puzzled look, then the door swung open and they all went in. Eltiron was not sure whether to be glad or sorry that she had not said anything.
Inside Terrel’s rooms, the air was dry and smelled of dust and unfamiliar herbs. Two small rugs by the door and a large bowl of faded flowers were the only spots of color; the walls were lined with brown books and small, oddly shaped boxes. On the other side of the room, Amberglas stood behind a long table, frowning faintly down at a small bone, a fist-sized rock, two boxes, a book bound in crumbling leather, a packet of letters, and what looked like a large map of the Seven Kingdoms. She looked up as they entered.
“Dear me, all of you at once. Not that I object, though with only one chair it may be a bit uncomfortable for some of you, since I expect you’ll all want to hear about things. People generally do, even if the things aren’t particularly interesting, and then of course when one starts explaining they become bored very quickly.”
“Tarilane said you’d found something important?” Eltiron said, looking with uneasy curiosity at the odd collection of objects on the table.
“Several things, to be precise. Though some are only important to a Black Sorcerer, which is just as well, since Black Sorcerers are interested in such extremely unpleasant things. Or someone who wants to be a Black Sorcerer, which is not at all wise, though of course some people do, or there wouldn’t be any. Black Sorcerers, I mean; there are a great many things that there would be a lot of no matter what people do. Or don’t.”
Vandaris scowled. “Lassond was a Black Sorcerer?”
“Not exactly, though of course it’s very difficult to be certain. There isn’t a great deal of difference between the sorts of things a Black Sorcerer keeps in drawers and the sorts of things someone who merely wants to be a Black Sorcerer keeps in drawers. On the other hand, most Black Sorcerers would have been much more thorough about the warding spells. Still, he was certainly trying.”
“What was it you wanted to tell Vandaris?” Eltiron asked quickly when Amberglas stopped. He was as interested as the others in Terrel’s dabblings in magic, but they could spend hours trying to get the details from Amberglas. If she had something important to tell them, it would be better to start with that and return to the discussion of Terrel later.
“The map, of course. And the letters, though they’re quite old and not particularly useful, which is understandable since Carachel didn’t have to send Terrel letters once he’d given him that amulet. But people frequently do things they don’t have to do—climbing mountains to see what’s at the top, for instance, and learning the two hundred names of that peculiar little man from Gramwood backward—so I suppose it isn’t particularly surprising.”
Vandaris studied the map for a moment, then looked up at Amberglas with a startled expression. “These are charts of troop movements!” She bent over the map once more in concentration. The others watched for a moment, then Crystalorn shook her head impatiently and said, “What are all the rest of these things for, Amberglas?”
“That usually depends a great deal on who’s using them. Though of course there are some things they wouldn’t be at all useful for doing. Weeding the garden, for example, or mending shoelaces, or deciding whether to wear green satin pants with a purple-and-orange tunic. Not that it ought to be a particularly difficult decision.”
“Well, what did Terrel use them for, then?” Crystalorn sounded as if she were nearing the end of her patience.
“Sorcery,” Amberglas said calmly, touching the bone with the tip of her finger. “And learning sorcery.” She touched the book, and a brown crumb clung to her fingertip for a moment as she drew it away. “This”—she indicated the rock—“I believe was used as a paperweight. And the two boxes are different kinds of herrilseed. Or rather, that’s what they have in them; it would be a bit difficult to make a box out of herrilseed.”
“Herrilseed!” Vandaris’s head jerked up as Eltiron and Crystalorn stared at Amberglas. “Ruse and dragon’s breath, how many people in this idiot-infested castle were poisoning Marreth?”
“But that doesn’t make sense!” Eltiron burst out. “Why would Terrel want to poison Father? He was Chief Adviser; Father almost always did whatever he said! And he must have known I wouldn’t listen to him if I were king.”
“Not exactly,” Amberglas said. “Though I can see why you might think so; still, there’s very little you could have done about it under the circumstances.”
“Amberglas, what are you talking about?” Crystalorn demanded.
“The herrilseed, of course. There are a great many things one can do with herrilseed besides poisoning people, particularly if one is a Black Sorcerer. Making people hate things, for instance, or love them, or believe certain things and not others, or anything that generally involves controlling someone. Of course, one has to be rather good at Black Sorcery to manage some of the more complicated things, but the love spell is exceedingly easy, and even a beginner could manage quite a good control spell if he tried hard enough.”
“What good does it do you to control somebody if you have to poison them first?” Crystalorn said.
“Very little I should imagine, though it doesn’t really matter since once one has enchanted the herrilseed it isn’t nearly as dangerous, though of course it’s never perfectly safe and it always has rather unpleasant side effects.”
“Then why would anybody use it?”
“Most people wouldn’t, but then most people aren’t Black Sorcerers, which is really quite a good thing if one thinks about it. And of course, even if someone has been taking treated herrilseed, only a sorcerer can set the effects of the spell in motion, which is one of the things that makes treated herrilseed so very useful to that sort of person. Most control spells aren’t at all specific about whose orders someone will follow, which perhaps explains why most sorcerers use herrilseed instead.”
“You mean those are control spells?” Vandaris said, eyeing the two boxes dubiously. “No wonder Marreth was acting peculiar!”
“Actually, I believe the one on the left is a love spell, which is much easier to do. Terrel really should have stopped with that, but perhaps he was only practicing. And of course he may have felt he needed the control spell as well, since it would have been rather awkward to have Marreth in love with him.”
Vandaris laughed. “That’s certainly true. Still, love potions don’t seem much in Lassond’s style, unless—” She broke off, staring into space with a thunderstruck expression, then began cursing with considerable feeling.
“What is it?” Eltiron asked when she paused for breath.
“That weasel-hearted, scum-brained, dung-headed slime rat was going to use that love potion on me! I should have killed him while I had the chance. Slowly.”
“Well, he can’t do anything now,” Crystalorn said practically. “So why shout about it?”
“Don’t you see? He wasn’t just a spy; that slimy worm was going to make himself King of Sevairn the same way Carachel got to be King of Tar-Alem—marry into the royal family and get your wife to hand over the kingdom to you when she inherits! Of course, he’d have had to dispose of Marreth and Eltiron first, but I doubt whether that would have worried him much. And then he’d have a kingdom, and Carachel would have one of his own men in control here.”
“I don’t think it’s at all likely,” Amberglas said, blinking at the air just left of Vandaris. “Of course I may be wrong, but then Carachel did such a nice job on that other batch, if one can call that sort of thing nice, and I doubt that he would have sent Salentor to give it to Marreth if Terrel was already doing it, however poorly. It only takes a few doses, after all, and there’s no need for the same person to put the spells on the person who’s been given it. He could have used Terrel’s.”
“I don’t care whose idea it was,” Vandaris said. “I—”
“Wait a minute!” Crystalorn interrupted. “You mean Salentor was working for Carachel, too? And he really did poison King Marreth?”
“I don’t think Carachel would have given herrilseed to him otherwise, particularly not with a control spell on it, though of course he may not have told Salentor what it did, which would have been much more sensible than anything else he’s done that I know of, even if Salentor couldn’t have controlled anyone. Not that Black Sorcerers are any more sensible than most other people, and of course, it didn’t make any difference in the end.”
“What do you mean?” Eltiron asked.
“Dear me, didn’t you realize? Salentor Parel wasn’t giving herrilseed to Marreth, or at least, not only to Marreth, though it’s very difficult to be certain, particularly with Terrel’s spells confusing matters. There was too much missing from that box he had, you see; if Marreth had eaten all that in addition to what Terrel was giving him, he would have been quite dead long before he actually was. It’s so very easy to give someone too much treated herrilseed, though of course that isn’t precisely what happened to Marreth.”
“But then who was Salentor giving herrilseed to?” Eltiron said with a sudden sinking feeling.
“I’d say there were three likely possibilities,” Vandaris answered slowly. “Crystalorn, me, and you. Assuming that Parel didn’t use the herrilseed until he got to Leshiya.”
Eltiron swallowed hard and looked at Amberglas. “Is there any way to find out whether one of us has been given herrilseed?”
“There is nearly always a way to find out things, though frequently it takes far more time and trouble than it’s worth, but not, of course, in this case. Except for Terrel, who really ought to be included since Salentor disliked him so very much, but of course it’s quite impossible to tell anything about him at this point, so perhaps it doesn’t matter.”
Vandaris looked thoughtful. “I suppose you’re right; Lassond could have been getting stuck with his own spear. Pity no one thought of it sooner so we could have checked before he was buried.”
“But you can check us? When? How long will it take?” Crystalorn said to Amberglas.
“Of course,” Amberglas said rather vaguely. “I should think it would take about an hour or so for each of you, though one can’t be completely certain until one is finished. And then, of course, it usually doesn’t matter.”
“An hour? But you knew right away that King Marreth had been poisoned!”
“Marreth,” Amberglas said gently, “was already dead. There are a number of spells that work much better on dead persons than live ones, since they tend to be fatal if one isn’t dead, and of course there were quite a few traces of the spells that had been used to control him, which almost any sorcerer would notice immediately. It’s one of the disadvantages of using herrilseed, but of course there aren’t many sorcerers in Sevairn, so perhaps they felt it was worth the risk.”
“Well, can you at least tell whether someone’s put spells on Eltiron or Vandaris or me?” Crystalorn said.
Amberglas’s face went blank for a long moment, then she nodded. “Yes, of course. Which is not to say whether anyone will try, but at least there’s nothing there now, which is quite reassuring under the circumstances.”
“I still don’t understand what happened,” Tarilane complained. “Who was doing what to whom, and why?”
“Terrel and Salentor were both working for Carachel,” Eltiron said slowly, trying to sort it out clearly in his own mind. “Terrel was using herrilseed to control Father, but he didn’t tell Carachel that. Carachel sent his own batch of herrilseed with Salentor, who was supposed to use it on Father. Salentor may have given some to Father, but he must have used some on someone else, too.” He shook his head in frustration. “I wish there was a way to be sure of all this! It’s all just guessing so far.”
“People who don’t expect to be caught frequently do things that are quite foolish,” Amberglas said absently. “Putting salt in the honey jar, for instance, and stealing the crown jewels of Bar-Zienar. And writing down things so that people will know how clever they’ve been, which really shows the exact opposite most of the time.”
“You mean Terrel left something in those papers?” Eltiron gestured toward the table.
“Not at all. But of course I haven’t had time to check all the rest of them, what with dismantling the warding spell and so on, which really took far more time than it should have. So I’m afraid I don’t know.”
After a few more minutes, Eltiron ended the discussion by setting everyone to look through the rooms for documents of potential importance. The hunt went smoothly, and soon an untidy pile of letters, notes, and other papers began to grow at one end of the table. Eltiron was just beginning to sort through them when a loud crash, closely followed by a startled shout, sent him running into the small room that had served as Terrel’s study. Vandaris was close behind him.
Crystalorn looked up, coughing, as they came in. She was squatting beside the remains of a tall, heavy cabinet that had apparently toppled over, filling the room with dust and revealing a large square hole in the wall behind it. “What happened?” Eltiron demanded.
“I was trying to move it and it fell over,” Crystalorn said between coughs. “I’m afraid I ruined it; I’m sorry. But look what was behind it!”
“So Lassond spent his spare time chopping holes in the castle,” Vandaris said. “Can’t say I think much of the idea.”
“But there’s something inside! And it feels like magic.”
“I don’t see
anything,” Eltiron said, trying to peer over the debris. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure! Just look.” Crystalorn leaned forward and reached for the hole. As her hand passed through the opening, there was a loud popping noise. An instant later, flames flared through the entire room, and Crystalorn screamed. Eltiron plunged forward into the burning room, trying to picture Crystalorn’s position.
Heat washed over him and flames roared in his ears. He flung a hand out to where Crystalorn ought to be, and felt a moment’s panic when he found nothing but the stone floor. He moved and almost immediately found an arm. She grabbed at him as he hauled her to her feet and started back toward the doorway. Just as they reached it, something dark and heavy dropped over his head. He fought it for a moment; then he heard Vandaris beside him shouting, “You’re on fire! Stop fighting, crack skull!”
Eltiron stopped resisting. Someone, presumably Vandaris, knocked him to the floor, where he was rolled and pounded on for a few confusing moments. Then he heard Vandaris say, “There, that’s finished it.” The pounding ceased, and he was allowed to climb to his feet and look around.
He stood just outside the doorway to Terrel’s study. The flames inside were already dying; with a slight shock, Eltiron realized how little time had passed. The heavy weight that had smothered his burning clothes was one of the rugs from just inside the door of the main room. Crystalorn stood beside him. A good part of her hair and eyebrows was gone. She was wrapped in the other rug, and water was dripping from her singed hair onto the withered flowers scattered around her feet. Eltiron’s face must have shown his surprise; Crystalorn flushed slightly and said, “Tarilane dumped the flower bowl over me. You were—I mean, thank you. Very much. I think you saved my life.”
The Seven Towers Page 24
