The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [21]
“I have it, my sweet, my eaglet! I shall be a wizard, not a gerthddyn.” He waved a hand in a flourish, and blue fire danced and sparked from his fingertips. “Krysello, the Barbarian Wizard from the Far North!” Another snap of his fingers sent a small shower of bright red sparks flying. “Come one, come all, and see the marvels of the northern lands! Bring the children, bring the aged grandmother, and see if you can discover if it’s done with powders and mirrors, or if the barbarian wizard is everything he claims to be.” When he waved both hands, a sheet of purple flame stippled with gold drifted across the cabin to dissipate harmlessly against the wall. “By the hells, they’ll be throwing coins at us by the handful.”
“No doubt, since they’ll be seeing real dweomer. But what would Nevyn say about this?”
“Does elven skin make good leather? Let us most profoundly hope that Nevyn never finds out about this little show, or the question will be put to the test. But don’t you see, Jill, how perfect this’ll be? Our enemies won’t suspect a thing, because they won’t believe for a moment that anyone would show off real dweomer in the marketplace.” He rubbed his hands together in glee, making a small fountain of silver flames. “Now, let’s see … aha, you can be my beauteous barbarian handmaiden. Come see the fair Jillanna, a savage princess of far-off Deverry! See how she carries a sword like a man! You’ll be a draw in and of your lovely self.”
“My very humble thanks. I suppose it’s better than being known as your fancy lad.”
Salamander wiped his smile away and considered her for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Jill. I know your heart is sick with worry. It’s a hard quest we’re on, but we’ll save Rhodry yet. Try not to brood.”
“Not brood? Ye gods, with him in the hands of the Hawks of the Brotherhood?”
“He may not be that, remember. Snilyn the pirate was as clear as clear, they were going to leave him alive and then sell him.”
“So they told Snilyn.”
“Well, true spoken.”
Cold fear swept between them like another wind from the sea. With a doglike shudder Salamander roused himself from what threatened to be despair.
“Let me amuse you, my turtledove. The Great Krysello had best practice his astounding repertoire of marvels.”
As it turned out, with the aid of the Wildfolk of Fire and Aethyr, Salamander could put on an amazing show of true magic disguised as false. He sent balls of blue fire dancing, sheets of red flame drifting, sparks glittering down in firefalls and miniature lightning bolts shooting and blazing. In the dark, the show would be absolutely dazzling. Once he had his visual effects coming easily, he added snaps, booms, crashes, and sizzles, courtesy of the Wildfolk of the Air. At the end, he threw a golden firefall up far above his head and made miniature thunder roll as it came cascading down. As the booms died away, there came a timid knock on the door. When Jill opened it, she found a white-face pirate.
“Oh here,” he said, with a lick at nervous lips. “Be all well with you?”
“It is. Why?”
“We heard them noises.”
“It was merely my master, studying his dark arts. Dare you intrude?”
With a yelp, the pirate turned and fled. As Jill shut the door, Salamander broke out into howls of wild laughter.
“That’s the spirit,” he said between gasps. “I think me this ruse will work splendidly.”
Baruma the merchant leaned onto the windowsill of his inn and looked out over the twilit city of Valanth. Far below down the hill, the last of the sunset sparkled on the broad river; here and there, lantern light bloomed in the windows of the houses or glittered among the trees of a garden. The sound of donkey bells drifted up to him from the distant streets. On this lovely evening he was inclined to be in a good mood. Not only had he successfully finished his job for the Old One, but his own affairs were progressing well. Sewn inside the hem of his tunic was a small cache