The Silver Mage - Katharine Kerr [110]
“The four? Right, you’re including Branna, as well we should. I suppose we can start by assuming that Evandar’s dragon spell is merely a particular instance of transformation dweomer.”
“Then the problem is, how do we reverse it from the outside, as it were.” Val paused for a frown. “It’s going to take a tremendous amount of power.”
“Just that, and let’s hope we don’t kill the man inside the dragon if we can’t earth the forces properly. Now, I’ve been studying Rori’s etheric double ever since he reappeared last year. He seems to have two doubles, actually, one of them dragonish, the other the same shape he had before. They’re somehow tied to the cycle of the moon.”
“Which one is dominant? Can you tell?”
“Fortunately, yes.” Dallandra considered for a moment. “The mannish shape is generally stronger, but during the second quarter, the dragon double appears. It’s at its peak when the moon is full.”
“So we’d best do the working when the moon’s dark.”
“I’d think so, yes.”
“I really do wish that Evandar had left the wretched book in your tent or some such place instead of in Alban, wherever that may lie! Why couldn’t he ever do anything simply?” Val held up one hand to prevent a reply. “Oh, I know, I know, it’s because of what he saw in his omens. You explained all that. It just really irks me.”
“It irks me, too, to be honest.”
Valandario smiled at the admission, so brightly that Dallandra wished she’d never made it.
“You did the right thing when you convinced him to incarnate,” Val went on.
“I didn’t convince him, exactly. He made the decision the only way he ever made decisions, by backing into it.”
“Like getting a balky horse into a paddock, eh? Arse first.”
Dallandra was about to make a nasty reply when Calonderiel, for probably the first time in his life, averted an argument rather than caused one. He ducked under the tent flap and came in, shaking water drops from his hair.
“Am I interrupting some working?” he said. “I can take myself out again if so.”
“No, no.” Valandario stood up. “I was just thinking of leaving, actually. I need to cast the omens for the day.”
You and your omens! Dallandra thought. You’re a fine one to talk about Evandar! She managed to hold her tongue until Valandario had left. Cal flopped down on the heap of leather cushions that her fellow dweomermaster had just vacated.
“I wanted to ask you to scry out something for me, beloved,” he said. “Assuming you don’t mind and all that. I keep wondering what Voran’s up to, because of the Boars, mostly. I’d like to see them brought to justice. Those priests of Bel were a loathsome lot, as arrogant as a ram in spring, but they didn’t deserve what happened to them.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Let’s see if I can find him. This rain is a nuisance.”
Despite the water veil falling around the tent, the image of the prince built up fast. Voran was sitting at a long table inside some sort of room with wood paneled walls. At his right hand sat Envoy Garin of the Mountain Folk, and between them on the table lay heaps of parchments, some splitting and yellowed with age, others fresh and smooth. Sunlight fell across them from a window. The rain had yet to arrive at their location, if indeed the storm was even heading their way.
“Still discussing the border, then,” Cal said when she told him what she’d seen. “Well, eventually, he’ll send messages to our prince. No doubt they’ll have some hard information in them.”
“And don’t forget that the silver dragon’s off scouting,” Dallandra said. “He should be back soon, and he’ll know more.”
“True. And, come to think of it, there’s Laz, too. Can you talk with him the way you do with other Wise Ones?”
“I can’t, or to be precise, he doesn’t know how. That teacher of his—he wasn’t only corrupt, he simply didn’t know much. Or else he knew but didn’t choose to teach what he knew, which is worse. But I can scry for Laz easily enough. I intend to keep track of him, too.”
“I don’t trust the man.”
“No more do