The Vacant Throne - Ed Greenwood [20]
"Three above, it sounds like a courtier outlining a treaty," Hawkril growled. "This is going to help us save Aglirta?"
Sarasper gave him a look. "Know thy weapon, warrior," he quoted the old maxim, "and live a little longer."
Hawkril nodded and sighed; overhead, Embra reached the last book, sat herself on empty air, and announced almost primly, " 'One who knows can call upon a grasped Dwaer to provide them with life in conditions that would otherwise slay or disable. Where blazing sun would scorch and there is no shade, or winter snows freeze where there is no warmth, and where one would perish, parched, with no water to drink, the Dwaer can sustain and serve. More than this: one who holds a Dwaer can see in darkness as well as creatures of the night. There is even more: a wizard who grasps a Dwaer can call on it to give force to any spell he can mentally frame and control, though the Stones do not give the ability to wield magic to those not having the talent for it.' "
"I believe we're all quite familiar with that last power," Sarasper said wryly. "These writings seem straight and simple to me, Lady; I ask again, what kept you so long?"
Embra descended her own height or more, to hang close above the old healer's head and glare at him. "What I read you is what these books now say; there were different words on their pages the last time we were here. I can't recall all of what I read then-'twas in much haste, with battle below, remember-but so far as I can recall, that end one then told me, 'Then did the Golden Griffon rage/At his forever foe enthroned/In the splendor of a nest new and strong-raised,' until I turned its page and so uncovered the words 'The place of fallen majesty, its master and namesake now gone, with all his strivings, to a pearl upon the fast Silverflow, an upthrust prow of shields for to cleave the winter waves.' In other words, they then spoke cryptically of where the Dwaer could be found. There was more than that, something about the Dwaer sometimes having wills of their own, or at least doing things their wielders don't want, and didn't call forth… and that's what I really wanted to read properly."
She sighed deeply. "Yet I couldn't touch the books then, and I can't now. By using the Stone and my will, I turned the pages of the end one then… . but I can't do that, no matter how often I try, now. Nothing happens. Something has changed. Trying to puzzle that out, healer, is what had kept me. That and trying to memorize these new words."
Sarasper lifted one eyebrow. "Memorize them? I can write, you know."
Embra Silvertree made a face at him, and then sighed, rose up to hang above the books again, and as Sarasper set to work with his quill pen and parchment-press, began to recite what she'd read aloud again, slowly and clearly.
Craer and Hawkril divided their time between glancing at the ruins around for any sign of approaching danger, and frankly admiring their lady companion.
There were advantages to being one of the richest ladies in all Aglirta. There were also advantages to being the daughter of someone as breathtakingly beautiful as Tlarinda Silvertree had been. Of course, that had to be weighed against the drawback of having Faerod Silvertree as a father-a drawback that had slain Tlarinda, forced Embra into slavery and spell-torture, and driven her to flight, and hard adventure… and here.
Embra Silvertree was wearing leathers and boots as soft and supple as those that seemed to be Craer's second skin, and as dark as her hair, though its usually glossy flood was gathered and bound at the back of her neck. A faint, pulsing glow of magic surrounded her, centered on the hand-sized mottled brown and gray stone sphere hanging in a harness of fine chain upon her breast: Candalath, the Stone of Life. Its awakened powers had girt her about with a web of magics that let her fly and hover, shielded