Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [128]
Cavatina took a deep breath. Kвras was up to his old tricks again. Trying to provoke her into an argument. "I don't," she answered flatly. "But it's the way things are now. We're all going to have to get used to it. Make the best of our new partners and continue the dance as best we can."
Kвras's eyebrows rose slightly. "Out of the light, into the shadows-back and forth, as the Masked Lady wills it."
"Yes."
Their eyes met, locked, then, as if at some unspoken command, both turned away.
* * * * *
Q'arlynd strode into the dining hall, surprised that Seldszar had agreed to meet with him at a time that would interrupt the master's supper. Judging by the extra place that had been laid at the table, Seldszar was expecting someone else to join him. Q'arlynd would have to come quickly to the point before that person arrived.
The elder wizard set down his fork and stared up at Q'arlynd through the crystal spheres that orbited his head. If he noted the invisible kiira affixed to Q'arlynd's forehead, he gave no sign. "You wanted to speak to me?"
Q'arlynd bowed. "I wanted to compliment you, Master Seldszar, on solving the problem of the faerie fire."
Master Seldszar frowned. "There is work yet to be done. The Faerzress that has sprung up outside our city presents new challenges."
"Indeed. But at least the effect is no longer increasing. The 'scouting expedition' put an end to that."
"So it did." The frown deepened. "Unfortunately, not before the College of Divination was greatly weakened."
Q'arlynd carefully hid his flinch. He did his best not to think about having abandoned the mission. "Ours wasn't the only college to suffer," he pointed out. "The College of Conjuration and Summoning also faces challenges. Its master is being held responsible for the fact that teleportation in and out of the city is no longer possible."
"That's true. But you didn't come here to tell me what I already know."
Q'arlynd bowed his head in agreement. "I understand you and Master Urlryn are working together on your mutual problem? Trying to find a way to break the link between drow and Faerzress?"
Master Seldszar's eyebrows rose. "You've been making enquiries. Either that or your scrying skills have improved."
"The former," Q'arlynd said. "A source within the College of Conjuration and Summoning."
"My son's consort?"
Q'arlynd smiled.
"You didn't come here to tell me that, either. Please come to the point."
Q'arlynd glanced at the bottle of fungus wine that stood on the massive dining table, wishing he could wet his lips with it. He took a deep breath, instead. "What if I were to tell you I've been speaking with dark elves from the distant past-from the time of ancient Miyeritar? With those who have first-hand knowledge of how the link between dark elves and Faerzress was forged, and who want to see it undone?"
Master Seldszar was no longer even glancing at his spheres. "I'd listen. Very carefully." He gestured at the seat across the table from him. "Sit. Pour yourself some wine."
Q'arlynd did as instructed. He took a polite sip of the wine, then set his goblet down, "You've noted the kiira on my forehead?"
"The moment you walked into the dining hall." Seldszar's eyes glittered. He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. "I thank you for recovering it."
Q'arlynd refused to be intimidated.
"It can be worn only by a descendant of House Melarn," he warned Seldszar. "Since the fall of Ched Nasad, there is only one surviving member of that House. Me. If anyone else were to wear this kiira, they'd wind up as Eldrinn did, that time I fetched him home from the High Moor. A drooling idiot." Q'arlynd cocked his head. "Hardly a fit state for the master of a college, wouldn't you say?"
Master Seldszar leaned back in his chair, his eyes locked on Q'arlynd's. "What do you want?"
"I've founded a school. I want it recognized as a college. I want a seat on the Conclave. To achieve that, I'm going to need a nomination from a master. From you."
"And if I refuse?"
Q'arlynd shrugged. "Then I'll speak to Master Urlryn instead."