A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [17]
They stood together, dark-gowned, slender, and tall-taller still because their booted feet stood on air a handspan or so off the ground. They looked like sisters, sharing the same beautiful features, large gray-green eyes, and in their hands were wands crowned with glossy gems that crackled with magic. They regarded the folk standing in-and lying on- the road, and their faces looked neither impressed nor friendly.
Craer's manner matched their cold, wordless sneers. "What is this? A magemoot? Or have we blundered into the trail that every last wizard and sorceress of Darsar trots down, to draw spells from the same well every morning?"
A wand lifted almost lazily to point at the procurer's chest-and then a sneer widened, and it was turned to menace Hawkril instead.
"We follow Jhavarr Bowdragon," the sorceress who held that wand said coldly, stepping to the fore on empty air, "and know he's been here. Who are you, and what's your business with him?"
Craer glowered at her, but Hawkril rumbled their names and titles, identifying Raulin as "the Bard Castlecloaks, son of a famous father," which left the lad red-faced but beaming. Then the armaragor added, "None of us had ever seen this Bowdragon before. His business with us, it seems, was to attack us."
"Your turn," Craer said bluntly to the four women. " We are the ranking nobles here; unburden your names to us."
"Ariathe, Dacele, Olone, and Tshamarra," was Olone's prompt, proud reply, indicating who was who with one finger-while her leveled wand never wavered from Hawkril's armored breast. "Sisters all, and not so less noble than some. Talasorn is our name."
Craer stiffened. "Any relation to Raevur Talasorn, of Sirlptar?"
"We are his daughters," Olone told him coldly, "and we seek revenge for his death. The Risen King and his Regent must die, among others."
"Talasorn fell in battle against the Baron Cardassa," Hawkril rumbled thoughtfully. "Many died that day, the Old Cro-Cardassa standing for the king, and the rest seeking the Throne o'erthrown." His brows drew together in a frown. "Which makes those who attacked Cardassa in his own castle enemies of Aglirta."
"Our father was courteous, and diplomatic; he stood among the foremost wizards of Sirlptar," Ariadie said, sounding nettled. "He allied with the Baron Adeln against the Risen King not in some crown-seeking conspiracy, but because he sought a strong, united Aglirta wherein increased trade and wealth would mean more patrons seeking to hire wizards-by which our father sought to provide lives of wealth and importance for us."
Craer's brow wrinkled. "Pray pardon?" he asked, incredulity warring with bafflement. "Wealth and importance as-?"
Raulin Castlecloaks put a hand on Craer's arm and cleared his throat. Then, holding up a ringer for silence, he strode forward until he was almost touching the four sisters. As many wands shifted to point right into his face.
Ignoring them, Raulin looked up at the sky and started to chant, as if recalling something learned long ago and not thought on again until this moment: "The spellcraft of Raevur Talasorn's four daughters outstripped his. His wife Iyrinda long dead, he doted on Olone, the eldest; Ariadie of the mighty spells; Dacele; and Tshamarra, deeming them too clever and beautiful to be wedded off-and, thus 'brutalized by some warrior-baron,' denied any chance to use their magic or follow their own wills."
Craer's eyebrows lifted, but the four sorceresses smiled. "They teach bards well these days," Dacele remarked. "Not a word of untruth."
"Enough of this," Ariadie snapped. "These overdukes serve the Risen King-blast them and let's begone!"
"Nay" Tshamarra said flatly. "Hurling spells too quickly got Father into trouble time and again; we'd do better to follow Bowdragon and learn who is who first."
"Well said," Olone agreed. "There'll be time enough and chances aplenty to blast