The Silver Mage - Katharine Kerr [17]
Some words they had, for dealing with those, either spiritfolk or fleshfolk, who knew Elvish words, but among themselves, the spirits of the dragon book used shape and color to convey what thoughts they needed to share. Some leaped up in long ice-blue lines, others agreed in a dim blue glow: danger, terrible danger, despite the smothering dark around the book they guarded.
Evandar, where is Evandar? They asked each other repeatedly by creating images of his various shapes, flashing like lightning in the dark. They summoned their lords and petitioned them. They brazenly asked their king, when at last he deigned to notice them. Where is the spirit known as Evandar?
Answers never came. No one knew.
“ ouknow,it’s odd,” Branna said, “but I keep thinking about the dragon book. I wonder if we’ll ever find it?”
“I do hope so,” Grallezar said. “Without it, I doubt me we can ever turn the silver wyrm back into his true form.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too. Since dragons have some kind of instinct for dweomer, couldn’t we just teach him how to transform himself?”
“After many a long year, mayhap. And mayhap the turning would fail and kill him, too.” Grallezar sucked a thoughtful fang. “Did Dalla ever tell you how Evandar worked the dweomer?”
“She did. He made some kind of dragon-shaped mold out of astral substance and wound it round Rhodry. Then the physical matter poured into it.”
“Just so. And here be the crux of the thing. The turning itself may well be simple enough, once we find the key. But what then do we do with the astral substance that did make the mold? It be heavily charged with dweomer—twice so charged, once we free it from the man inside. I doubt me if a simple touch of a pentagram will turn it harmless and send it on its way.”
“Oh. I’d not thought of that.”
“The problem be a bit much for an apprentice, truly. I know you be eager to help with this working, but dealing with that dragon simulacrum had best be left to me and Dalla. Other work will come your way.”
“Very well, then. Of course I’ll do as you say.”
Grallezar smiled briefly. “It gladdens my heart to see you listen to your master in the craft.”
“Well, after what nearly happened to Neb—”
“Indeed. At least some good did come of it, since you did take the lesson to heart.”
“I have. I promise. But it’s a bit more than just my wanting to help with the working when it comes. I feel like I have to do this for some reason I don’t understand. I mean, I know Jill wanted to spare him this wyrd, but it seems like there’s more to it than that.”
“Indeed?” Grallezar paused to study her face for a moment. “That be a good theme for your meditations, then. See what symbols rise around your thoughts, and we shall discuss them.”
“Well and good. I’ll do that.” She paused, glancing to one side, where she’d seen a flash of movement. Her gray gnome had appeared. He sat down cross-legged, imitating her, and began picking his nose. When she shook a finger at him, he vanished. Grallezar rolled her eyes at his antics, but she was smiling.
“Now it be time to stop thinking of dragons and the like,” Grallezar said. “Let me hear you recite the true names of the spirit lords of each sphere.”
With a sigh, Branna began the lesson. Thinking about the silver wyrm held a great deal more interest than all the memorization that dweomer entails, but she knew that the one was the key to the other.
Dallandra, however, cut that particular lesson short. Branna heard her calling Grallezar’s name in a voice brimming with excitement. With a sigh Grallezar got up and stuck her head out.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Dallandra was saying, “but—”
“Do come in,” Grallezar said. “Being as you’ve interrupted already.”
When Dallandra ducked under the tent flap and came in, she was smiling, her eyes gleaming with delight.
“And what be all this?” Grallezar said.
“I’ve just had a talk with Laz,