The Kingless Land - Ed Greenwood [93]
"Well, I say that we'll have war again, and soon! Just yester-"
"Can't be, Nolos; even wizards can't be in two castles at once. If las-"
"-mages coming from all over Darsar, I've heard, to some ruin far upriver. Something about the Sleeping King-p'raps they've found his tomb, all full of magic! Wouldn't th-"
"That Silvertree, now: I've heard he's planning how to seize the city itself! Aye, right here, and he'll tear down most of Helder Street to build himself a soaring castle atop everything! Won't that be-"
Behind two fat and bearded perfume dealers, two men in long cloaks stiffened at the sight of the hurrying pair and abandoned the comfortable pillar they were lounging against to move in the same direction as the supper bundle. As they went, they clasped sword hilts to keep scabbarded blades from knocking into the oblivious merchants crowded around.
"Aglirta doesn't need that sort of king! Armsmen torching cottages by night, and slave-chaining up everyone who so much as looks back at them-I don't think so! We'll end up as bad as-"
***
It was a long way from Castle Silvertree, but Daerentar Jalith and Lharondar Laernsar had no difficulty remembering the baron's blunt orders. Their constantly tingling bodies reminded them with each step they took and every twitch their limbs made-spasms that were unpleasantly new to them and had begun to foster in them the beginning of respect for wizards. If working magic was like this, no wonder most mages were right bastards.
Daerentar's head snapped around. Was that-? Yes.
He clapped a hand on Lharondar's arm, and pointed, using only his head. A moment later, the two spell-bearing warriors were moving carefully through the crowd after the agile little procurer and the old man trudging along with the sack. Two fools whose fates mattered not a whit-but who couldn't be cut down until they led the way to the Lady Silvertree.
They crossed Arn Lane, and then Belzimurr's Way, turning up a nameless alley that crested the ridge and dropped down into Starnner's Street. It was in the alley that it became obvious to the baron's best blades that others were following the renegade pair. Well, no wonder. Kidnapped or no, if the Lady of Jewels could be turned against her father, any baron of the Vale would dearly love to have her spells bent to his causes.
The procurer and the old man with the sack slowed as they came to the gates of the Wavefyre Inn horse-yard. Hard against its posts stood a small knot of men-three bards, including the well-known Rhaerandul of the Lute, standing listening to a youngish, handsome man in black robes adorned with runes that meant the man was either a powerful mage… or wanted all who looked upon him to think he was.
"Who-?" one of the cloaked warriors asked a merchant who'd tarried to listen, too.
"A mage of Elmerna, staying yon," the merchant muttered, inclining his head at the inn. "Jaerinsturn, he's called." A second jerk of his head indicated that his own words were done, and the words of the mage should now be heeded.
"… it must have been a mage sitting in the front chamber of the House of the Raised Hand, or someone he commanded," Jaerinsturn was saying grimly. "I was there; perhaps thirty of us heard, perhaps more. Yezund set forth his entire deduction-I don't think I can recall the entire spread of his argument, but we all heard the conclusion clearly enough: Candalath, the Stone of Life, lies now in the ruined city of Indraevyn. For speaking thus, Yezund died; none of us knew that he entertained any foes nor feuds-nor anything much at all. He wielded no power, his manner was not unpleasant, he owed no monies, either here or back in Elmerna… someone wanted him dead so their rush to seize the Stone of Life would not meet failure because Yezund, armed with whatever secrets he hadn't yet babbled, got to the Worldstone first."
"The Dwaerindim, power to set the world afire, power to raise it up," one of the bards breathed