Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [50]
Solinari’s thoughts on the Blood Sea Tower were much the same as those of his cousin. His thoughts on the Nightlund Tower were also similar, except he was intrigued by the possibility of restoring the accursed land that now lay languishing beneath dark shadows. If his White Robes could remove the curse that lay over Nightlund, people could live there once again and prosper. All Ansalon would be in the debt of his White Robes.
“It’s something to consider,” said Lunitari grudgingly.
“I would like to think it over. But I am interested,” said Solinari.
Nuitari glanced around, as though he feared other immortal ears might be listening, then, with a gesture, he drew his cousins close.
“I had to keep this secret,” he said. “Even from you, those whom I most trust.”
Lunitari frowned, but she was clearly curious. “Why?”
“The Solio Febalas—the Hall of Sacrilege.”
“It was destroyed,” said Lunitari flatly.
“So it was,” said Nuitari. “But the sacred artifacts inside it were not. I have them now under lock and key, guarded by a sea dragon of a particularly nasty disposition.”
“The holy artifacts stolen by the Kingpriest,” Solinari said, amazed. “You have them?”
“Perhaps I should say now, since we have reached this agreement between us, we have them.”
“Do any of the other gods know of this?” Lunitari asked.
“Chemosh is the only one and he has kept his mouth shut thus far, though it is only a matter of time before he will spread the word.”
“The other gods would give anything to have those artifacts back!” said Lunitari exultantly. “From now on, we wizards, once reviled, will be a power in the world.”
“Henceforth, no cleric will dare raise his hand against us,” Solinari agreed.
The three fell silent. Nuitari was thinking that this had gone unexpectedly well, when Solinari said quietly, “You know, Cousin, that I can never again trust you in anything.”
“Nothing will ever be the same between us again,” Lunitari lamented sadly.
Nuitari looked from one to the other. His heavy-lidded eyes were hooded, his full lips compressed.
“Face it, Cousins, a new age has dawned. Observe Mishakal. No longer the gentle goddess of healing, she strides through heaven wielding a sword of blue flame. Kiri-Jolith’s priests march to war. Even Majere has left off staring at his navel and involved himself in the world, though I have no idea what he is up to. Trust between us all ceased the moment my mother stole away the world. You are right, Cousin. Nothing will ever be the same. You were fools to think it could.”
As he drew his hood up over his moon-face and left them, Nuitari wondered what they would have said if he had told them he had captured Mina.…
asalt!” Caele accosted the dwarf as he was walking down a hallway. “Is it true the Master has left the Tower?”
“It’s true,” Basalt replied.
“Where has he gone?”
“How should I know?” Basalt demanded testily. “It’s not like he asks my permission.”
The dwarf kept walking, his hob-nailed boots ringing on the stone floor as he kicked at the hem of his robe to keep from stepping on it. Caele hastened after him.
“Perhaps the Master has gone to deal with Chemosh,” the half-elf said hopefully.
“Or perhaps he’s left us to face the Lord of Death on our own,” Basalt returned. He was in a grumpy mood.
Caele blanched. “Do you think he has?”
Basalt would have liked to have said yes, just to rattle the half-elf. He needed Caele’s help, however, so, reluctantly, he shook his head. “It’s something to do with Chemosh, but I don’t know what.”
Caele was not reassured. He fell in alongside Basalt. “Where are you going?”
“Coming to fetch you. Mina is to be granted freedom to walk up and down the hallway for an hour—under our supervision, of course.”
“Under your supervision,” said Caele. He made an about-face. “I have no intention of playing nursemaid to that scheming bitch.”
“Suit yourself,” Basalt said complacently. “When the Master returns, where shall I tell him to find you? In your room? Studying your spells?”
Caele halted. Swearing beneath his breath, he turned