The Seven Towers

by Patricia C. Wrede

  “And what did he think Carachel was going to do during all this?” Vandaris demanded. “For that matter, what was that snail wit going to do about the Matholych? Or didn’t Carachel tell him that part?”

  “Carachel told him,” Eltiron said, “but I don’t think Terrel believed him. I think Terrel thought Carachel was just using the Matholych as an excuse to get control of the Seven Kingdoms and that Carachel wouldn’t care who was on the throne of Sevairn as long as the King did what he wanted.”

  “Dumb-brained lack wit,” Vandaris muttered. “If he didn’t believe in the Matholych, why was he trying to learn sorcery?”

  “Maybe he thought Carachel would approve, or maybe he wanted to take Carachel’s place.” Eltiron seemed to be thinking of something else; he glanced at Amberglas, then his eyes came back to Jermain. “There’s only one more thing you should know, I think.” He hesitated, then looked down at the table and went on with a rush. “Amberglas thought that Salentor must have used some of his herrilseed on one of us, and when she checked everyone yesterday . . . well, she was right. He gave it to me.”

  Jermain stared at Eltiron, stunned both by this calm announcement and by his own reaction to it; he’d thought whatever affection he’d had for Eltiron was dead. The news appeared to be a shock to Crystalorn and Vandaris as well; Crystalorn went white, and Vandaris glared ferociously at Eltiron and Amberglas. Eltiron glanced up and shrugged slightly, then returned to his contemplation of the tabletop.

  “You realize that there’s a good chance that Salentor told Carachel what he’d done, don’t you?” Jermain said after a moment.

  Vandaris snorted. “He’d have been the biggest fool in the Seven Kingdoms to do that.”

  “He was,” Jermain replied. “But he almost certainly talked to Carachel that night at our camp, and he’d have been a bigger fool not to tell Carachel everything, once he realized how much he’d given away. And Carachel is following me to get his ring back. Isn’t there anything that can be done about that poison?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Amberglas said. “That is, one could do a great many things about Eltiron’s having been given herrilseed, but none of them would work very well, which is quite unfortunate just now.”

  “Then we’ll have to do something about Carachel,” Vandaris said. “He’s the immediate problem, anyway; that Matholych thing won’t get here for another month at least.”

  “There is truth in what you say,” Ranlyn said from beside Jermain. “Yet has the Red Plague reached out once already to touch one within your city.”

  “We can’t do anything about it now,” Vandaris retorted. “And Carachel’s a lot more likely to get here in the next day or so than the Matholych is. Assuming that you’re right about him chasing you instead of that red blob.”

  “One way or another, we’d have one less problem if he were,” Jermain said moodily. Vandaris raised an eyebrow, and Jermain continued. “Carachel said he’d been gathering power to face the Matholych; and according to Ranlyn, the Matholych gets weaker as it eats power. If Carachel fights the thing, either he’ll use up a lot of power winning, or he’ll lose and the Matholych will eat him. Either way, the winner wouldn’t be nearly as hard to deal with.”

  “Too bad we can’t persuade him to do it, then.”

  “I don’t quite think so,” Amberglas said thoughtfully. “I’m afraid it seems a little too much like what Carachel was planning to do to the Hoven-Thalar, feeding them to the Matholych to make it weaker so he could win, you know, though of course there aren’t nearly as many of him, which is quite fortunate for us even if it’s not for him.”

  Jermain opened his mouth to reply, then shut it with a snap. Amberglas was right; what he had suggested was exactly what Carachel had planned to do.

  “It matters less than runes drawn in sand,” Ranlyn said. “The Servant of the Red Plague is not foolish, to attempt to face power without power of his own, and we hold the source of his power. So will he follow us, until the Ring of Two Serpents is once more in his keeping.”

  “That’s it!” said Vandaris suddenly.

  Everyone looked at her. “What’s it?” Eltiron said.

  “If Carachel’s power is in the ring, he can’t do any harm as long as we keep him away from it. So we set a trap for him.

  “And we use the ring as bait.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Eltiron did not participate in the lively discussion that followed Vandaris’s suggestion. He listened with barely half his attention while Jermain, Vandaris, and Ranlyn argued about the advisability of the idea and the details of the trap, and as he listened he watched Jermain.

  He had been prepared for the awkwardness of their meeting, and he had anticipated the difficulty of making at least a semipublic apology. He had not been ready for the hard lines around Jermain’s mouth, or for the bitter tone in which he spoke of Carachel. He had not expected Jermain to avoid speaking to him and address most of his comments to Vandaris. He had not expected Jermain to be a stranger.

  He shifted slightly, and tried to concentrate on the discussion. Ranlyn was saying something about a Hoven-Thalar spell that might be used to hold Carachel harmless.

  “You’re a magician?” Vandaris said skeptically when Ranlyn finished.

  “No more than you, in things of every day. But the charms that hold the Red Plague will ofttimes hold its servants, and many such spells are in the keeping of my clan.”

  “It sounds as if it might work,” Eltiron said. “But Carachel’s the King of Tar-Alem; what will his army do when they find out he’s a prisoner? And the other kings won’t like it much, either; it sets a bad precedent.”

  “When the other rulers of the Seven Kingdoms find out what Carachel’s been trying to do, they’ll be fighting for the privilege of chopping his head off,” Vandaris said.

  “And I doubt that Carachel’s men are particularly loyal to him,” Jermain said. “They won’t do anything immediately, and with a little encouragement they might even be persuaded to support Elsane. I don’t believe she’d object to having her kingdom back.”

  “Do you really think this has a chance of succeeding?” Crystalorn burst out. “Carachel’s a sorcerer!”

  Jermain looked at her. “Do we have any other choice?

  “Nearly everything has some chance of succeeding,” Amberglas said absently. “Of course, sometimes the chance isn’t a particularly good one; but then, a great many highly unlikely things happen anyway. People accidentally growing blue roses, for example, or crossing the ice fields of Mithum alone in the middle of winter, though I believe the woman who did that was a hero. Still, heroes are highly unlikely, though it’s quite understandable when one thinks of the sorts of things they do, which may account for their being quite rare and so seldom around when they could be useful. Not that it’s likely to matter much in this case.”

  “All right,” Eltiron said. “If you think there’s a chance it will work, we’ll try Vandaris’s idea. I think Jermain’s right; we don’t have much choice.” He looked at Amberglas a little anxiously; he was not completely sure he had interpreted her speech correctly.

  “Exactly,” said Amberglas.

  “Good.” Vandaris sat back in her chair. “Now, anybody have any idea where the best place would be to set a trap for a wizard?”

  “We’ll want room enough to move,” Jermain said. “Carachel’s no fool; he won’t come alone.”

  “He can’t have more than a dozen men with him or we’d have heard; I’ve got men out looking for odd things and they wouldn’t miss a group that size. There are enough guards here at the castle to take care of that many. We could set up this spell in the practice yards and put more guards behind the Tower of Judgment in case we need them.”

  “Won’t Carachel know something’s going on when he sees the guards?” Crystalorn objected.

  “He’ll know we were expecting him, my lady, but if he sees guards he won’t be looking for a magical trap,” Jermain answered. He looked across at Ambergl
as. “He probably knows you’re a sorceress, so you’d better stay out of sight. Will that cause any problem with the spell?”

  “I shouldn’t be at all surprised if you were right,” Amberglas said. “And of course the tower is close enough for us to tell when we’re needed, if we are.”

  “What do you mean, ‘we’?” Vandaris said.

  “King Eltiron and myself, of course. It really wouldn’t be at all wise to have someone about who’s been given herrilseed when a Black Sorcerer is going to be around, particularly if that someone is the King. But I doubt that Carachel will notice either of us inside the tower.”

  “She’s right, Eltiron,” Vandaris said after a moment.

  Eltiron nodded slowly. He wasn’t sure whether he should feel disappointed or relieved.

  Jermain looked at Ranlyn. “Can you set your spell in the practice yards? And can you hide it so Carachel won’t notice it?”

  “What is the size of this place?” Ranlyn said. Jermain described the practice area, and Ranlyn nodded. “A spell circle has little need of larger space, and the sand will cover it. It will not be found by the Servant of the Red Plague, for it bears no likeness to his magic, and once he steps within its boundaries he will have no means of leaving it without the Ring of Two Serpents. And that we hold.”

  “Fine,” Crystalorn said. “But how are you going to get Carachel inside this spell circle?”

  “At its center will I hold the ring,” Ranlyn replied calmly. “So will he enter it, to regain what he desires.”

  “No!” Jermain said. “It’s too dangerous!”

  “Someone has to,” Vandaris said. “Carachel’s sure to smell the meat rotting if he sees his ring just sitting in the middle of the courtyard.”

  “Then I’ll do it!”

  “No,” Ranlyn said. “This task is mine, for the debt I owe to you and to the clans. So has it been from the first calling of the wind, and so shall it be.”

  Jermain glared for a moment at Ranlyn’s impassive face. “I’ll be there with you anyway.”

  “As you will have it.”

  “Then I’ll have to join you,” Vandaris said with a mock sigh. Eltiron looked at her in surprise, and she shrugged. “Morada’s eyes, you think I’m going to miss all the fun? Besides, it’ll look better to have three of us waiting for him.”

  “I think I’d better just sit inside the Tower of Judgment with Eltiron and Amberglas,” Crystalorn said. “I’m afraid I’m not very good with swords.”

  “Oh, no, you won’t,” Eltiron said without thinking.

  “What!” Crystalorn glared at him.

  “Because you’re the Princess of Barinash,” Eltiron said quickly. The thought of Crystalorn coming anywhere near such a dangerous confrontation made his blood run cold, but he could hardly explain that in front of Vandaris and Jermain.

  “I hadn’t thought of it, but you’re right,” Jermain said. “She should be on the other side of the castle with all her own guards and as many of ours as we can spare.”

  “But why?” Crystalorn asked. “If Eltiron and Amberglas will be safe in the Tower of Judgment . . .”

  “They won’t be safe,” Jermain replied. “They’ll just be out of sight. And Sevairn has enough potential problems with Barinash right now without adding your death or injury to the list.”

  Crystalorn looked from Jermain to Eltiron, then down at the table. Eltiron felt like a worm.

  “Well, thank Viran that’s settled,” Vandaris said after a moment. She looked at Jermain. “Now, can we have a look at this ring that’s causing so much trouble?”

  Jermain hesitated, then reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small, cloth-wrapped package. He unfolded the top layer of cloth, placed the whole thing on the table, and pulled away the remaining wrappings. With a small clink, the Ring of Two Serpents dropped onto the table in front of Eltiron. It was made of two serpents, one gold and one black iron, and it was glowing faintly.

  “Dear me, how extremely interesting,” Amberglas said into the tense silence that followed. Eltiron pulled his gaze away from the ring and saw her looking directly at it, her face intent. She leaned forward and brushed the tip of one forefinger across the ring once, very gently. She gave a small, satisfied nod, and then her expression went vague once more.

  “What’s he doing with it?” Jermain demanded.

  “Looking for it, of course. I suppose he could depend solely on his bond with it, but that’s really much slower and not at all necessary, though since his ring is leaking bits of the spell it would probably be much wiser.”

  “Can you tell how long we have before he gets here?” Vandaris asked.

  Amberglas frowned slightly and touched the ring again. “About two hours, I think, though I believe he could do it in less if he tried.”

  Vandaris looked at Ranlyn. “Is that enough time for that spell of yours?”

  “It is enough, though little will there be of excess.”

  “Then we’d better get started,” Eltiron said, rising. The others followed his example, and in a few minutes they were all on their way to the practice area. Eltiron stayed long enough to be sure that things were going smoothly, then left to give the necessary orders to the castle guards. His duties kept him too busy to watch the spell casting; he caught an occasional glimpse of Ranlyn drawing strange runes in the sand and then carefully erasing them, but that was all. As soon as the spell circle was closed, Vandaris and Jermain began directing the guards to their places. Crystalorn tried to start another argument with Vandaris about watching the confrontation from the Tower of Judgment; Vandaris’s response was to order one of the largest guards in the courtyard to escort the Princess back to the castle at once.

  Crystalorn and the guard were hardly out of sight when a horn blew from the top of the castle wall, announcing that Carachel and his men had been sighted. Eltiron sprinted for the Tower of Judgment as the guards took up their positions across the end of the practice yard. He reached the doorway and glanced around to make sure Amberglas was already inside before he pulled it shut. Then he crossed to the window and peered cautiously out.

  The guards stood, looking tense and uneasy, in their assigned places. Ranlyn was about twenty paces from the door of the tower, in the middle of the area where he and Amberglas had been working. His left hand was clenched around the cloth-wrapped serpent ring; his right held a long, slender knife. Jermain and Vandaris stood on either side of him, their right hands resting on the hilts of their swords. For what seemed like hours, nothing happened; then there was a shout from the gates of the castle. A tingle ran down Eltiron’s arm where it rested on the stone below the window. As he snatched his hand away, six men rode into the courtyard.

  The leader of the group, a grim-faced man on a bay stallion, pulled his horse to a halt when he saw the waiting castle guards. He turned his head, scanning the courtyard. His eyes narrowed as they fastened on Jermain, and his expression hardened. Eltiron saw Jermain’s back stiffen very slightly, and he knew that the rider must be Carachel.

  “I have come for my ring,” the rider said.

  “No,” Jermain’s voice rang with the same determination as Carachel’s.

  “The Matholych comes! Will you let it destroy the Seven Kingdoms again? Without the ring I have no chance of stopping it.”

  “And with it? Even with your ring, you would have had to give the Hoven-Thalar to the Matholych to weaken it before you attacked. What will you feed the Matholych this time? The armies of Gramwood and Mournwal and Barinash, perhaps?”

  Carachel’s lips twitched. “I do what I must.”

  There was a moment’s silence as the implications of Carachel’s statement sank in. Then Jermain muttered an oath and half drew his sword. He stepped forward and Ranlyn flung a hand across his path to stop him. Eltiron saw a scrap of cloth trailing from Ranlyn’s clenched fist as Jermain halted.

  “You have it, then!” Carachel’s voice was low, but it held a note of triumph, and his eyes were fixed on Ranlyn.r />
  “I hold it; such is my debt. And I will not return it to your keeping while I yet live.”

  Without taking his eyes off Ranlyn, Carachel dismounted. Three of his men did likewise; the other two shifted their positions so that their horses were between Carachel and the Leshiya Castle guards. The Leshiya soldiers started to move in; Jermain waved them back. “Leave him for me,” he said, drawing his sword.

  Carachel ignored them all. He stepped forward, then paused. Inside the Tower of Judgment Eltiron held his breath. The wizard took another step, then hesitated again, frowning. His gaze left Ranlyn and swept around the courtyard. He looked at Ranlyn again, and his eyes narrowed. Then he spoke a single word and gestured with his right hand.

  A dome of bright blue light flared in the middle of the courtyard, blinding Eltiron for a moment. When his eyes cleared, the sand of the practice area was blackened in a wide circle that passed barely two paces in front of Carachel. Eltiron groaned mentally; Carachel had almost been within their trap!

  Carachel gestured again. Ranlyn shouted and fell to his knees. His dagger dropped to the ground, but his left hand remained stubbornly clenched around Carachel’s ring. Eltiron thought he saw a wisp of smoke or steam seeping between his fingers. At the sound of the cry, Jermain’s head turned in Ranlyn’s direction; Eltiron caught one glimpse of his face, twisted with anger, and then Jermain lunged toward Carachel. One of Carachel’s guards intercepted him. Vandaris leaped to his aid, the castle guards followed, and in moments the courtyard was full of battling figures.

  Only Carachel and Ranlyn did not move. The wizard’s frown deepened, and he repeated his gesture. Ranlyn cried out as his left arm jerked forward, dragging him with it. Eltiron heard a snapping sound, and Ranlyn fell forward, gasping, as a streak of gold light flew from his hand toward Carachel.