Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [29]
Chemosh shook his head. “Only if you will give me that annoying monk of Majere. First things first, though. You must restore Mina to me. Your brother has her locked in the Tower of High Sorcery beneath the Blood Sea.”
“Rhys Mason is not a monk of Majere,” cried Zeboim, offended. “He is my monk and he is passionately devoted to me. He adores me. He would do anything for me. If it hadn’t been for him and his loyal dedication to me, my son would still be a prisoner of that—”
Zeboim paused. Chemosh’s last words had just hit her. “What do you mean—Tower of High Sorcery in the Blood Sea?” she blazed. “Since when?”
“Since your brother restored the Tower of High Sorcery that was formerly at Istar. His newly built Tower is now at the bottom of the Blood Sea.”
Zeboim scoffed. “A Tower in the Blood Sea? My sea? Without my permission? You take me for a fool, my lord.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you knew.” Chemosh feigned surprise. “Brother and sister, so loving and close. He must tell you everything. I assure you, Lady, that your brother, Nuitari, has raised up the Tower that once stood in Istar. He is restoring it to its former glory and he plans to bring Black Robe wizards beneath the ocean to populate it.”
Zeboim was struck dumb. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She glared at Chemosh, convinced he was lying, yet she glanced back uncertainly at the sea that seemed to quiver with her outrage.
“The Tower is not far from here,” Chemosh added, gesturing. “A stone’s throw. Look to the east. Do you recall where the Maelstrom used to be? About one hundred miles from shore. You can see it from where we stand—”
Zeboim looked beneath the water. Now that it had been pointed out to her, the god was right. She could see a tower.
“How dare he?” Zeboim flared.
Thunder shook the castle walls, causing Krell, cowering at the bottom of a well, to quake in his boots. The impetuous goddess prepared to leap headlong from the battlements.
“We’ll see about this!”
“Wait!” Chemosh shouted against the crashing roar of her ire. “What of our bargain?”
“That is true.” Zeboim reflected more calmly. “We have business to finish before I shred my brother’s eyeballs and feed them to the cat. You will free my son.”
“If you free Mina.”
“You will give me Krell.”
“If you give me the monk.”
“And you,” said Zeboim haughtily, “you must put an end to these so-called Beloved.”
“Am I to be denied disciples?” Chemosh demanded, aggrieved. “I might as well ask you to stop soliciting sailors.”
“I do not solicit sailors,” Zeboim flared. “They choose to worship me.”
The two stood eyeing each other, both of them thinking how to gain what he or she wanted.
Mina will at last be in my grasp, Zeboim reflected. I’ll have to turn her over to Chemosh eventually, but for a little while, I can use her to my own advantage.
Should I trust the Sea Witch with Mina? Chemosh asked himself, then thought, reassured, Zeboim does not dare harm her. I will keep her son’s soul hostage until we make the trade.
As for Krell, tormenting him has grown to be a bore, Zeboim realized. My monk is far more valuable to me—not to mention entertaining. I will keep him.
Majere is a distinct threat, Chemosh was thinking. Zeboim is a minor irritant. If, as she claims, this meddlesome monk has switched his loyalties from the Mantis God to the Sea Witch, then Rhys Mason no longer poses a threat to me. I know how Zeboim treats her faithful. The poor man will be lucky to survive. And having Krell available to me instead of constantly hiding under the bed will be of considerable advantage.
As for this Tower … Zeboim moved on to the next irritant. I’m not surprised at anything that moon-faced little brother of mine would do. He’ll pay for his impudence, of course. I’ll shake his Tower to ruins! But why is the Lord of Death interested in a Tower of High Sorcery? Why should Chemosh care one way or the other? There’s something more here than meets the eye. I must find out what.
So Zeboim didn’t know about the Tower. Chemosh considered that interesting. I feared brother