Storm Warning - Mercedes Lackey [168]
Presumably Fireword could send the information to the Hawkbrothers by magic—and they in turn would pass it to the Kaled‘a in and the Shin’a’in.
Prince Daren had sent a Herald off last night to Rethwellan, but there were no Priests or Heralds in Rethwellan to distribute the warning. There were none in Hardorn either, nor in the icy wilderness up above the Forest of Sorrows, nor in Iftel. There was no way to tell anyone farther south than Rethwellan, except if the Shin’a’in got around to it, nor were there any ways to distribute warnings there. Their only hope was that the wave centering on Evendim would be so weak by the time it got that far, that the combined effect with the one centered on the Plain would be negligible.
It wouldn’t remain that way for long, though. Sooner or later the waves would be strong enough that the warping effect would be felt even farther away than Ceejay, and at that point, the waves would be coming more often, too.
Somehow, someone had to spread the word. Somehow, they had to find the answer to stopping this thing.
Hurry, hurry, hurry, before it’s too late....
Nothing could be done about the Pelagirs or the northern mountains. What would happen when the beasts that were already strange and deadly, out in the Uncleansed Lands, encountered these warping forces a second time? One wag of a student had suggested that they might just go back to being rabbits, mice and tree-hares. That was an amusing thought, but unlikely.
And what about the Empire? There was still an army out there. What if whoever was in command decided that Valdemar, Karse, or both were the cause of all this? They had command of far more magic than either land did, and an unlimited supply of troops, or so it seemed. What if they decided this was an attack, and decided that it was worth carrying the battle to the enemy?
As if that thought had been a cue, the door opened, and Ulrich stepped in.
The sound of his limping footstep made Karal turn, with a frown of worry on his face. Ulrich should not be limping, not unless he was so exhausted that even walking was an effort.
His frown deepened when he saw the pale, translucent skin above Ulrich’s beard, and the dark circles beneath his eyes.
“You’ve been overworking again,” he accused.
“I’ve been undersleeping,” Ulrich corrected. “I had troubling dreams last night, and this morning I urged that our work consist of sending out warnings, maps, and the formulae to calculate the schedules, not only to the Tayledras, Shin’a’in shaman, and Kaled’a’in, but to every mage-school any of us knew of. It occurred to me that in the schools there is always someone teaching or practicing a scrying spell, and we needed only to ”interrupt” what was already in place. The Blue Mountain and White Winds mages were particularly helpful there.” He smiled wanly. “We covered quite a bit of ground, so to speak.”
“That’s all very well and good, but—” Karal stopped himself in midscold, shaking his head at himself. “I’m sorry. I sound like your mother, or at least a nagging son, and I’m only your protégé and secretary. Forgive me, Master Ulrich.”
But to his shock and delight, Ulrich not only did not take offense, but he smiled again, this time with real warmth. Wan sunlight relected from the white plaster-adorned mantel fell on him, accentuating his pallor. “You have every right, and if I had a nagging son, or any kind of son, I would hope he would be precisely like you. You are a never-ending delight to me, Karal. I had thought when I first took you as my protégé that I would always be a little disappointed in you because you were not a mage. I was wrong.”
“Wrong?” Karal replied vaguely, more than a little stunned by the sudden turn this conversation had taken.
“Very wrong.