The Vacant Throne - Ed Greenwood [143]
That, in turn, might just become necessary, but open brutality was not Ingryl's way. Any baron had sword-swingers aplenty for that.
Now, to work… Ingryl crafted the spell with swift skill and sent it forth, questing after the now-familiar fields of magic that meant Kelgrael Snowsar since his Rising. Questing, and… Gods, but 'twas taking long. Was the king far afield?
He must be, for time passed and the three candles that were part of the spell burned lower and lower… and still the Touch found the king not.
Ingryl frowned and spun a swift amendment, to seek traces of the one royal magic that died but slowly, in case Snowsar had dropped his enchantments for some reason-or died, dragging the linked enchantments into their own slow, shared demise. The amendment settled upon his original Touch in a bright net, locked to it with tendrils of delicate force, merged… and still found nothing.
Ingryl frowned. A shielding? A spellscrying ward, raised after the king's enchantments had been ended. But-why? And… how? The age-old binding between Snowsar and the Serpent would prevent a normal Hide-From-All enchantment from working, and anything stronger and more specialized would stand out like a blazing beacon-as the temples did, and the Silent House-to his questing Touch.
He could find no trace of the Risen King in Aglirta… or in all of Darsar. Kelgrael Snowsar was simply… gone!
Mind awhirl, Ingryl Ambelter spun another amendment to his Touch, making it seek the known firewarding magics on the Flame Throne. In a moment he was "there," seeing the empty high seat as if hovering over it. Murmuring another incantation while he held that image of the throne steady in his mind with an iron discipline very few in Aglirta could match, he willed himself along the link.
There was a moment of whirling blue fire amid slowly rotating darkness-and the polished marble tiles of the throne chamber were under his boots. A guard shouted, and Ingryl Ambelter turned slowly from where he stood beside the throne like a disinterested shadow. "Yes?"
"I-ah, pardon, Lord, I thought you were… Who are you?"
"One who is very concerned as to the king's whereabouts," Ingryl answered crisply, stepping down from the dais. "Do you know where he is?"
"Ah, no. There're some as has been saying he, uh, 'faded away,' in some sort of a battle back in the private chambers of the palace."
Ingryl's puzzled frown wasn't as much of an act as he'd meant it to be. " 'Some as has been saying'? Who-and how do they know?"
"Saerlor for one, Lord. He says they saw it themselves."
"Who is Saerlor, and who's 'they'?"
"Saerlor and Phlundrivval. The royal factors in Sirlptar, Lord, but they were here, to report to the king-and both saw it. The tale's all over the palace! I saw Phlundrivval depart to the docks after the evening feast, but Saerlor was up in Strongstone Hall, in the west wing, not long ago. He-"
"Take me to him," Ingryl snapped, every inch a ruling lord.
The guard blinked, and said, "Yes, and who'll be guar-"
"An empty throne, man? Take me to him now."
The guard blinked again, and then gave Ingryl a hand-salute and set off through the palace, heading west.
"What's that?" Embra hissed, trying to roll up onto one elbow.
"No, you don't," Sarasper muttered, pulling her back down. She gasped in pain and tried to twist out of his grasp. "Not until I'm finished healing you. Then you can try to get yourself slain all over again."
The Lady of Jewels quivered under his fingers as another Silvertree gewgaw faded into dust and darkness, banishing the last of her pain.
"My thanks, Sarasper," she murmured, stretching slowly. She'd been clenched against pain forever, it seemed…
This time, when she rolled up, he hauled her back down even more swiftly.
"Old man," she snarled, "what're y-"
The crossbow bolt shivered as it cracked off the stone wall nearby, and some of its splinters tumbled