Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [28]
"Let's leave before the necromancer realizes he's been tricked and comes back."
They moved deeper into the labyrinthine streets of the Dark Weavings bazaar, winding their way through the crowds that thronged it. As they walked, Miverra sang a song under her breath. She lightly touched first her own lips and ears then Q'arlynd's. As she did, the noise of the street suddenly fell away. Yet when she spoke he heard every word she said.
"Tell me about the other Masters of the Conclave. Is there anyone else I should be wary of?"
Q'arlynd laughed. "Just approach them as you would a council of matron mothers." At her puzzled look, he added, "With the utmost deference-and the utmost caution."
She nodded.
As they passed a building that sparkled with lavender faerie fire, Q'arlynd noticed Miverra's eyes following the light as it swirled up and down the hollowed-out columns. She probably didn't see many buildings like that on the surface.
"Let me offer these cautions, which may prove useful when you at last get to appear before the Conclave," Q'arlynd continued. "The College of Enchantment is in charge of Sshamath's slave market, so dealing with Master Malaggar may prove… problematic for you. And Master Felyndiira is as slippery as an oiled lizard; with an illusionist, you can't ever really trust what you're hearing or seeing. Master Urlryn is said to have poisoned his way to the top, while Master Masoj is said to prefer entombing his rivals deep in the earth. That is, supposedly, how he assumed his position at the College of Abjuration." He paused, as if thinking. "Of the ten masters who make up the Conclave, there's only one I'd recommend you trust: Seldszar Elpragh."
"Master of the College of Divination." She glanced pointedly at his amulet. "The college to which you belong, coincidentally enough."
"That's true. But I'm only trying to be helpful. You and I do, after all, share the same faith."
They passed a fungusmonger's stand, and the merchant held up an orange sporeball and cut a sliver from it, imploring them to take a bite. Miverra ignored him. Her attention, Q'arlynd saw, was focused on a bridge that spanned two buildings up ahead. A bridge that, like the column she'd just admired, sparkled with faerie fire.
Her expression was anything but one of admiration. In fact, she looked deeply troubled.
He suddenly realized a possible reason for her visit. "The faerie fire-is it affecting your priestesses too?"
She hesitated, not answering.
"Is that why you came to Sshamath? To learn what's causing the problem? Why… that's the very thing our college's sages have been studying."
She spoke slowly, as if thinking aloud. "Perhaps it would be better if I spoke to the master of your college, instead of appearing before the Conclave as a whole."
"I'm sure Master Seldszar will want to speak to you," Q'arlynd told her. "In fact, I think I can convince him to hear you this very 'day'" He lifted a hand. "Shall I teleport us to the College of Divination at once?"
Miverra touched his arm and moved in close. "Isn't there something you're forgetting?"
"What's that?"
She nodded at the clearstone in his hands. "The goblin. Shouldn't you set it free first?"
Q'arlynd almost laughed. He'd forgotten about the slave entirely. "Of course. Wait here; I'll only be a moment."
He intended to teleport to the slave house, return the goblin, and ask for credit toward the purchase of the chitine. But as he glanced down at the goblin it reminded him-just for a moment-of someone. A svirfneblin he'd once owned. The goblin stared up at him with dull eyes, its naked body a mass of bruises. No doubt some child had played with the clearstone, shaking it to see what would happen to its contents.
Flinderspeld had looked just as bad, the day Q'arlynd had seen him standing on the auction block.
Q'arlynd sighed, then teleported to a cavern well beyond the city. It took him two tries-his maudlin mood must have interfered