The Kingless Land - Ed Greenwood [143]
The Stone flashed once with a hungry ruby radiance, then throbbed like the boom of a drum so deep it made the ears tingle. Once more, and again, slightly faster. Again. Faster and faster-and with the hand that wasn't holding the Stone on high, the priest threw back his cowl and signaled his most senior priestesses.
Their sashes flew, their robes swirled away, and they began to dance, passing from his right side in front of him to his left, and on, circling him, their snakes coiling excitedly around their arms.
Other, lesser worshipers, snakes coiling along their limbs, hastened to join the throbbing, quickening dance, as the Stone flashed again and again.
At each flash the lashing, slithering serpents drew back their heads and then struck, sinking their fangs into the bared flesh that carried them, and the dancers wept and sobbed and wailed, raising their hands to the Stone. The priest laughed in exultation and stared up at the Dwaer he held, feeling it reaching across the miles to wherever the Stone of Life was tugging at it… bringing it home.
The dancers were whirling in a frenzy now, the snakes biting repeatedly. The song of the Stone rose louder, and the dance of the circling clergy moved with it, then started to change. Quickening limbs jerked stiffly, bare bodies became deep amber and then deepened to a dusky purple, staring eyes glittered golden, and mouths began to foam as venom surged through veins. Only the sweeping, rising power of the magic kept the faithful on their feet.
A door opened in Castle Silvertree, and a man in rich robes strode into a blood-smeared room.
One of the women lying dejectedly against the end of the bed looked up through weary eyes. "You," she said, a thread of contempt in her exhausted whisper. "I knew you'd find your way here before long."
Ingryl Ambelter spread his hands with a smile. "And I've not disappointed you." His gaze roved around the chamber, meeting many reddened, empty eyes, and he added, "As Spellmaster of Silvertree-as ruler of Silvertree-I offer you a choice."
He waited, but the watching women gave him only sullen silence. The Spellmaster's friendly demeanor shrank to a half smile. "If you serve me in all matters, as you did the baron, I'll banish those talons and make you normal again."
Sarintha stiffened and rose off the bed, holding out her talons like daggers before her. Her bare body was black with blood, not all of it her own, and with every step she left a bloody footprint on the furs underfoot.
"Serve the magic that made us this way?" she hissed, eyes glittering. "Serve the only man even Silvertree feared?" She launched herself into a sudden dash at him. "Never!"
As Sarintha reached for him in savage anger, curving claws raking, Ingryl Ambelter calmly stood his ground, and fire roared out of his hands.
He blasted the leaping woman to ashes and bones not two strides from his nose, and watched all that had been Sarintha clatter and sigh to the furs, trailing smoke.
Then he lifted his head to smile again at the rest of the bedchamber girls. The survivors. Standing there with the last wisps of flame curling up from his palms, he gently repeated his offer.
Slowly, eyes downcast, a slender woman with a magnificent mane of flowing black hair crossed the room and knelt at his feet submissively, carefully holding her talons behind her and away from him. He felt the soft brush of her lips on his boot, and smiled.
After a moment, another of the baron's girls padded across the floor to kneel beside the first… and then another. There followed a general move toward the Spellmaster, and he threw back his head and laughed in exultation.
As the last woman knelt at his feet and bent her head to kiss his boots, Ingryl made a grand gesture-and one of the baron's coronets rose from its jaunty perch on a bedpost and floated across the room to the wizard's head.
As it settled about his brows, he felt gentle kisses on his