The Towers of the Sunset - L. E. Modesitt [112]
“Shit . . .” Only Creslin hears the inaudible murmur from Thoirkel.
Joris looks at Klerris. “How good a Storm Wizard is he?”
“Better than any I’ve ever known; he was born to it.”
Creslin looks at Klerris. Even Megaera looks up.
“Does the Duke know all this?” asks Hyel tiredly.
“Why do you think we’re here?” Megaera says with near-equal fatigue in her voice. “Do you really think the Duke liked the idea of having two wizards from Westwind and Sarronnyn under his roof?”
“I think you’d better take the cot I’ve been using, at least until we can get something . . . more suitable,” suggests the guard captain.
Joris nods. “I’ll show you to it, since I am certain that the captain and Hyel have some cargo to discuss.”
“The horses?” Creslin asks, looking at Freigr.
“I’ll find you later, and you can walk back with me to get them, if that’s all right.”
Creslin nods, and the three wizards follow the swarthy man through the still-open doorway.
LXIX
“THE STORMS WERE unusually severe, Jenred, even for winter in the gulf.”
“Severe enough to sink three schooners and leave the Duke’s sloop untouched?” asks the High Wizard sardonically.
“Klerris was on board the sloop,” offers another voice.
“What about the other healer?”
“And I suppose a pair of master healers could suddenly learn to build storms that severe?” Jenred’s voice has become louder. “Don’t give me another excuse, like ’the White bitch helped him.’ She’s there only because she has no choice.”
The chamber becomes silent.
Finally a voice from the last row speaks, tiredly. “You’ve disagreed with everyone. What do you suggest?”
Jenred smiles, a cold, white smile. “Nothing.”
“What—”
“Let the Duke get away with this?”
“The Legend-holders will . . .”
The High Wizard Waits quietly until the tumult subsides. “Let us consider the situation. After a generation of hard work, subterfuge, and treachery, the Blacks within Fairhaven and Candar have raised a worthy champion. That champion has fled to a huge and worthless isle off Candar. He is tied to a White witch, and he wants little to do with the continent. He also owes something to the Duke of Montgren.
“From his isle, Creslin could clearly destroy any fleet sent against him. He can also protect the Duke’s two ships and a few others, but no more. He has no gold, or not much, and few allegiances.
“We leave the Duke’s ships alone, and any few ships that Creslin might purchase or build. We sink any others from Candar that approach Recluce. In the meantime, we can always encourage the eastern continents to attack. It would cost us very little, and it would keep Recluce busy. At the same time, we will finish the great highway and consolidate White rule. After a while, Creslin will die, and Recluce will wither away.”
“But the Blacks will flock to Recluce,” protests another member of the White Council.
“What about Nordla and Hamor?”
“So? How will the Blacks get there? It will take years, and they will be weaker, and we will be the stronger.” Jenred snorts. “As for the Nordlans and Hamorians, the only reason they would help Creslin would be for gold or goods, and he has no gold, and the isle produces no goods of note . . . even assuming that he had enough people to gather them.”
“What about the western kingdoms?”
“Have they helped their supposed ally, the Duke? Will they send troops to Recluce?”
“The Marshall will have to send some.”
“Fine. She cannot afford more than a small detachment. Nor can the Tyrant. That just makes them weaker, since we have no interest in taking that wasteland anyway.” Jenred smiles. “Think about it, friends. Think long about it.”
LXX
ALONE IN THE single-room cot, after Joris’s quick apology for its inadequacy and equally quick departure with Klerris, who is insisting