Black wizards - Douglas Niles [1]
Muttering a curse, the assassin entered and disappeared into inky darkness. In his silk shirt and trousers he slipped along without a whisper, his soft leather boots gliding silently over the smooth stone floor. All around him the sprawling vastness of Caer Callidyrr lay dark and slumbering.
The assassin walked cautiously into one of the castle's towers. He saw blackness, a deep and unnatural gloom. Then he heard a soft snapping of fingers, and the darkness dissipated. But it did not exactly grow light; the effect was more a relief of blackness. Faint rays of moonlight spilled through narrow windows high in the walls, and he could vaguely make out the council.
The Seven sat around a long, U-shaped table. They faced the assassin, their table open before him like the jaws of some beast. Deep, cowled hoods concealed the faces. The assassin looked up at them and clamped his teeth together. He could scarcely repress a shudder of revulsion.
The one in the center, he knew, was Cyndre.
The master of the wizards confirmed his identity, his gentle voice belying the terrible powers at his command.
"You were careless about that task in Moray. King Dynnegall's daughter survived long enough to provide a description of your men."
The assassin sniffed loudly through his broad nose. "The guards were more numerous than you led me to expect. We had to kill several dozen of them. And the nursemaid hid the baby in an attic – it took us hours to dig out the little brat. I lost two good men, and the mission was a success – the Dynnegall line is ended – as I ended the royal line of Snowdown for you last year." The assassin punctuated his statement with a low, inhuman growl.
"I do not expect such sloppiness, for the coin I am paying," said the great wizard quietly. "Even your mother, the ore, could have done better."
The insult was too much. A dagger flashed from the assassin's sleeve. Faster than the eye could follow, it flicked toward the wizard's unarmored breast.
The others gasped in surprise, flinching at the sudden attack, but Cyndre merely raised a finger and quietly spoke a word. Instantly, only a foot from its target, the dagger was transformed. In its place, a large bat fluttered upward, turning to lunge at the assassin's throat.
Another dagger flashed, but this one remained in the assassin's hand. He casually spitted the bat upon the thin blade and flicked the carcass to the tabletop before Cyndre. He could sense Cyndre's eyes upon him, boring from the depths of his hood.
For a moment the room remained frozen, the wizards intent upon their leader. The assassin stood stock-still before the table. The black wizard gestured casually, and the dead bat instantly disappeared. A smooth, amused chuckle emerged from the dark hood, and the tension in the room slowly drained away.
"Now, Razfallow," continued the wizard, his voice as pleasant as ever, "you will soon be free to return to Calimshan. However, one more king upon the Moonshaes threatens the dominance of our… liege.
"You will take your band to Caer Corwell. The prince of that realm is something of a local hero, and he is a menace to our ambitions. The cleric, Hobarth, has warned us that we must act quickly, for the prince has a beloved who is equally dangerous.
"You are to kill them, and the king, as well. The fee will be twice your usual – thrice if you can return the prince's sword to Caer Callidyrr. Above all else, this prince must die."
I
A Druid of Myrloch Vale
"Let's go swimming now! Can't we, Robyn? It's so hot, and we've been working so hard…"
"You mean I've been working so hard!" said the young woman, pausing to push a sweat-soaked strand of black hair back from her face. "All you've done is get in the way!"
Her companion, a two-foot-long orange dragon that buzzed like a hummingbird around her, turned his scaly snout away in momentary indignation.
"Besides, Newt," Robyn continued, "I've got to sort out this tangle of vines before we do anything else. They seem to grow thicker every day! I don't know how Genna tended