Страница 25 из 111
He must study men of power more closely. What they said, their small ma
"That's the secret of the Three I must learn," Multhas muttered, looking up at the grimoires he kept closest. Old, thick spellbooks pe
"The Three reveal their secrets in their own good time, Multhas. Is hunting them in old tomes your wisest course?"
Multhas Bowdragon whirled around, almost upsetting his platter. "Who dares-?"
An intruder clad like a traveling mage stood at the far end of the room, facing him. Black hair, a soft and wise smile-and one hand hidden from view in a slit-pocket of wizardry robes.
Unfamiliar, yes, but Multhas had seen him before… through a scrying-sphere. Yes! Years ago, when he still dared to look upon Aglirta, before-
"My name," the man said pleasantly, "is Ingryl Ambelter. I come in peace, to make an offer I trust you'll find both profitable… and enjoyable."
Fear struck a chill deep in the Blackheart Bowdragon. It was only by the strongest of trembling efforts that he kept from flinching, or showing terror on his face.
Yet his unbidden guest smirked, as if every racing thought Multhas wrestled with was shouted aloud. Oh, he knew of Ingryl Ambelter, darkest of Silvertree's Dark Three, and quailed-and Ambelter knew it.
Multhas Bowdragon shook, willing mounting rage to overmaster his fear. How had Ambelter reached this i
The man had proclaimed himself Spellmaster of Silvertree-of All Aglirta, now, if Sirl gossip heard through the crystals could be believed-and some said he'd killed Baron Silvertree, the Risen King, and even the Great Serpent!
Certainly he'd butchered dozens of Sirl mages, decades back, sending slaying-spells by night… stealing through their wards unchecked, just like…
The Blackheart drew a deep breath. It might, after all, be his last.
"Ambelter," he echoed, keeping his voice steady, slow, and without any hint of weakness-or welcome. "I've heard that name before. Faerod Silvertree's mages… you were reckoned the most powerful of those 'Dark Three.' "
His visitor smiled. "Indeed, and rightly so." Ambelter waved his visible-and empty-hand at the splendors around him. "Your wards are among the finest I've seen, and yet…" He smiled again, and let silence fall between them.
Multhas let his scrying-spheres fade to dark quiescence, not hurrying to say anything that would further reveal his fears. With a thought he activated wands hidden here and there in carvings around the room. If it came to battle between them…
"Evidently not fine enough," he replied in dry tones, assuming a relaxed pose that just happened to cover the ring on his left hand with the fingers of his right, so the faint glow of its awakening to hurl fires was concealed. "You mentioned an offer…?"
"I propose alliance toward a specific end. This must needs involve some measure of trust between us. Hence this meeting, eyes to eyes, for both of us to see if trust is possible… or not."
Multhas Bowdragon regarded his visitor expressionlessly. "Unfold your offer."
"For years Aglirta has been where barons brawl, each kinging it over his few farms and forests and cow pastures. The Vale feeds great Sirlptar, but is in truth no kingdom at all-a place of battle madness rightly called the King-less Land. Yet the true rulers of Aglirta have always been wizards. Wizards who warred with each other, using barons as willfully as barons use their lowliest cortahars. I was Spellmaster of Silvertree, and even that greatest baron of all bowed to my will-and never knew he was doing so."
"And so?"
"And so I know the true measure of Aglirta's might. If ever it stood united under a strong king, a real king, Arlund would not be safe, nor Sirlptar, nor any proud land of Asmarand; Aglirta could conquer all. Those who squabble in the Vale could come for you and all Bowdragons on the morrow, if someone did but unite and lead them."
"The worlds of 'if' are countless, but even our most daring sea captains rarely reach them," Multhas responded. "I'm not afraid of cortahars, or full-mantled armaragors, or even howling hosts of hireswords. A few spells, and-" He made a dismissive gesture.
Ingryl Ambelter smiled. "Indeed. However, there's far more to Aglirta than swords-there's magic. The ruins of a dozen cities of sorcery lie beneath the green fields and wildwood tree roots of Silverflow Vale, and in family crypts, roadside hedges, and many abandoned palaces and high houses. Much magic has been carried off down the years, of course, but far more lies forgotten. Magic enough to make those who wield it archwizards greater than any Darsar has yet known. Fool-headed farmers turn over spellswords when they plow, and barons toss aside everything not encrusted with jewels."
Multhas Bowdragon swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "And having stepped through my wards as if they were less than window curtains, you need my aid in this matter… how?"
Ambelter took a step forward-moving in utter silence, Bowdragon noted-and said eagerly, "That's just it, Multhas! Alone, I can make myself the tyrant king Sirl folk would have to fear-and the rest of Asmarand would come to fear, once Sirlptar fell. This I can do already, without you or anyone. Yet I want more. Much more."
He took another step forward, and Multhas Bowdragon called up the powers of his fire-ring. This could all be but a ruse, for Ambelter to get close…
The Spellmaster smiled. "Calm yourself, Bowdragon, and quell what you're pla
The master of Bowdragon Towers knew his eyes were narrowing, even as his heart started to pound with excitement. "You want me to be one of your loyal subjects?"
"No! I see a council of mages, a high table of equals, with apprentices serving beneath us and commoners under all. A land as strong and clean and peaceful as we can make it, so Aglirtans are happy and wealthy, earning us coins enough to live like kings and pursue ever stronger magics, making new books of sorcery to enrich all. What say you, Bowdragon?"
"A compelling vision," Multhas admitted, nodding. "Yet I still don't see why you need me-or how I can be sure you aren't just seeking my death, and my paltry magics to add to your own."
Ambelter smiled again. "I've never yet thought that any mage can be talked to death. If I wanted you dead, a spell to smash Bowdragon Towers would have come without warning, and you'd never even have known who sent it. Much magic binds together walls and furniture around you, Multhas-and such magic can be twisted or shattered at will, by those few who know how. But I don't need your death. I need you alive, as a colleague I can respect and talk to, and work with. As a friend."
He held out his empty hand in the soothing gesture many women make when they dare not touch the one they want to comfort. "I know this is both sudden and unsettling. You'll want time to think, to consider all sides. I won't press you for any pledge or agreement this day… But I do believe that once you consider all the implications of this dream of mine, you'll very much want to be a part of it. Just think: to be free of swaggering sword-swingers and owing your backside to sly-tongued merchants at last!"
"I already enjoy complete freedom in such matters, thank you," Multhas Bowdragon answered rather stiffly.