The Sorcerer

CHAPTER NINE

17 Flamerule, the Year of Wild Magic

Even for dragons, the flight to Shade was a long one. Galaeron hung in Malygris's grasp through the night and all the next day. At dusk he finally saw the city, a distant diamond of umbral murk floating low over the purple mirror of Shadow Lake. As always, it was swaddled in wisps of black fog, giving it the appearance of a lone storm cloud or a mirage. The swirling specks of a hundred or so vultures wheeled beneath it, in constant pursuit of the garbage that fell like rain from its refuse chutes. There were also larger specks, shaped like tiny crosses and circling the city in the tight formations of veserab patrols.

Malygris raised his head, and Galaeron's skin suddenly began to prickle and his hair stood on end. A deep crackling erupted a few yards above his back, and the air began to dance with silvery flashes. He craned his neck around and saw an enormous ball of blue lightning blazing inside the dracolich's empty cage of ribs. Malygris opened his jaws, and the lightning shot up his throat in a blinding white fork of energy that left Galaeron struggling to blink the glow from his eyes.

As Malygris announced his triumphant return to Shade, a terrible sense of fear and loneliness settled over Galaeron. His plan was a sound one, or the Chosen would never have agreed to the attempt, but it was also one that demanded more strength than he was sure he possessed and sacrifices that were not his alone to make. The last time he had glimpsed Aris, the giant had been hanging by his shoulders, chin resting on his chest and his captor's talons sunk deep into his flesh. Given Anauroch's heat and the dragons' refusal to stop for water, there was every reason to believe that Aris would be suffering from sun stroke in addition to whatever injuries he had endured during his capture.

Not for the first time, Galaeron cursed himself for listening to Storm. He was beginning to question just how much Aris's absence would really have raised the Shadovar's suspicions. Having seen how callously the Chosen spent mortal lives, it was easy to believe they were risking his friend's life for only modest benefit If Aris were to die on behalf of the plan, Galaeron's resolve would be so weakened by guilt he would succumb to his shadow sell

In fact, he was starting to think that this was exactly what they wanted, that they had some other secret plan to save Faer?n that did not involve saving Evereska. Wouldn't that be just like the Chosen? Maybe they had quietly struck a bargain with the phaerimm to subvert the city defenses from the inside, so the thornbacks could attack from the outside and destroy their mutual enemy. It was just as well, then, that Galaeron had remained silent about the message from Malik. The little man might prove useful yet

As they crossed Shadow Lake, Shade swelled from a tiny diamond of murk into a more nebulous form that might have been a solitary thunderhead on the verge of bursting, or a plume of ash drifting across the sky from some nearby volcano. A patrol of veserab riders came out and took flanking positions to either side, their jittery mounts hissing and spewing black fumes as they felt the fear aura that surrounded all dragons. Paying the escort no attention at all, Malygris continued onward until the black haze filled the entire sky ahead, then he dived to the bottom of the cloud and entered the dark murk there.

Once inside the cloud, the enclave itself grew visible, a huge capsized mountaintop honeycombed with utility pas-sages and ventilation shafts. Malygris began to circle the crags of the overturned peak in an ever-growing spiral, his fear aura keeping the ever-growing colonies of bats and birds at a cautious distance. Even the jewel-eyed sentries who stood constant watch from their hidden crannies shrank back out of sight as the dragon passed.

Though the city could be departed in any number of the usual mundane ways-flying, translocational magic, even jumping-circling up from the bottom was the only way to enter. Even then, those seeking entrance had to come only at dusk, when the hidden city grew briefly visible. Any other approach would lead the unfortunate traveler through the plane of shadow to any one of a thousand planes it touched. It was, Galaeron knew, a defense the Shadovar considered unbreachable by any army on Faer?n and one that made them feel invulnerable enough to treat the rest of the world as no self-respecting lord would his dogs.

At last, they neared the top of the mountain, where the great Cave Gate already hung open, its huge mouth an ebony hollowness opening into an even darker wall of black stone. Malygris seemed to take great delight in extending his wings and clacking both sides of the portal with the yellowed bone tips. A properly awed murmur rustled through the depths of the cavern as he swooped to a stop at the rear of the vast

Marshaling Plaza and banged down with Galaeron pinned to the floor beneath his huge talons.

A pair of similar crashes from nearer the mouth of the cave confirmed that the dracolich’s companions had landed behind them.

Holding Galaeron down so tightly that his face scraped along the floor, Malygris pushed him forward.

"I bring gifts fitting to my splendor," Malygris said. His tone was surprisingly deferential, at least for a dracolich. "Here are the warmbloods you have been seeking."

"So I see." The voice was sibilant and pervasive, like a whisper rolling into the cavern from some distant passage. "It should not surprise me that dragonkind has succeeded where my own princes have failed. You are to be complimented, Malygris. This is most excellent"

The speaker was Telamont Tanthul, Most High of Shade and father of the Thirteen Princes. But even had the shadow lord not spoken, Galaeron would have sensed his presence in the chill stillness of the air-and in the cold fear that held the cavern in its grasp. Even Malygris, who as the Blue Sovereign of Anauroch need not bow to any other, lowered his skull in respect.

Without being audibly prompted, the dracolich spoke again. "Matters went as I knew they would, of course. The two-legs cowered in my shadow, and the ones we sought fled into the forest" The dracolich pricked Galaeron with the tip of his talon and added, "Though these mammals thought to hide their giant with their pitiful wizardry, they were fools. Their magic is nothing to mine, and the mere attempt revealed to us who we were seeking."

Galaeron's stomach suddenly went cold and queasy, and it had less to do with the Chosen being carried inside it than with simple fear. If Telamont's willpower could master even that of a dracolich, what chance did Galaeron have of hiding his betrayal? When the Most High's attention turned to him, the truth would become a breath held too long, and the harder he tried to keep it inside, the more desperate he'd grow to release it His only chance was to confess all and claim the plan had been Storm's idea, that the Chosen had forced him to-

No.

That was his shadow speaking. The idea had slipped up on him so smoothly, felt so natural that he had almost accepted it as his own. But if he betrayed the Chosen, he would also be betraying his loyal friend Aris, and that one thought served as a lifeline back to his true self.

The Most High remained silent, and more words spilled out of the dracolich's mouth.

"My worshipers have spies in every city of Faer?n," Malygris continued. "When they informed my priests that the giant was selling all of his stone whittling, I knew the ones you desired would soon leave the city."

"As did we," Telamont replied. His voice was cold and calm. "Yet you acted while my sons planned and fretted. Shade is in your debt."

"Indeed," said a silken voice Galaeron recognized as that of Yder Tanthul, the Sixth Prince of Shade, "but one wonders at how easily this 'secret' was discovered. Our agents were watching as they left Arabel. Starting a beggar's riot does not seem a very secretive way to leave a city."

"You challenge me, shade?"

There was an alarming crackle in Malygris's voice, and Galaeron was almost crushed as the dracolich shifted his weight forward.

"As a courtesy to your lord," the dracolich continued, "I will suffer your insult this once. But your stink offends me. Be gone."

"Be gone?" Yder fumed.

Galaeron wished he could reach the little pill Alustriel had given him. Even a dracolich did not speak to a prince of Shade in such a manner, and he thought the coming clash might provide just the diversion he needed to disgorge the Chosen and escape into the city.

But Yder said no more, and after a moment of staring across the floor through Malygris's talons, Galaeron realized that the prince had indeed gone.

"Yder means no offense, Mighty One," Telamont said in a tone that was soft, and almost hypnotically soothing. "He is only a few centuries old and not yet capable of appreciating the full depth of a dragon's cunning. He stands in awe of your magnificence."

"Then it pleases me to let him live," Malygris replied. "Consider it a gift."

"You honor me too much, my friend. Is there a gift you desire in return?"

The air grew as cold and as still as ice. The hem of Telamont’s dark robe-all Galaeron could see of the shadow lord-drifted forward.

"There is nothing," Malygris said. "The honor of your friendship is all I seek."

"That you have."

An expectant silence descended between the pair, then Malygris finally said, "But Techora is making demands on me."

"And Techora is?"

"The new one sent by the Cult of the Dragon," Malygris explained. "I mention this only because her petitions often interfere with our friendship."

This is the seventh in as many tendays," the shade replied. It was a statement of fact. "One might think you are simply trying to escape the bargain you struck with the Cult of the Dragon."

"It is hardly my fault that the priests they send are all rude and foolish," Malygris rumbled. His talons tightened until Galaeron let out an involuntary groan. "Should I tolerate ineptitude among my servants?"

"No more than I." Telamont's tone was almost resigned. "Yder will see to her. That shall be his atonement gift to you. What defenses does this one bear?"

"Only the usual protection amulets," Malygris said as he raised his claw, freeing Galaeron, "and the mammal is not even as powerful as the others. The cult is beginning to run out of priests."

"That would be good," Telamont said. "Not that I have ever been displeased with the splendor of your gifts, Malygris."

The dracolich spun around in a great clatter of bones, nearly crushing Galaeron with a carelessly placed rear foot and upending a dozen of Telamont's bodyguards with his long tail.

"How could you? They came from a dragon."

Malygris sprang into the air and departed the Marshaling Plaza over the heads of his two assistants. Telamont motioned for Prince Clariburnus to keep watch over Galaeron, then exchanged gifts with the other two dragons, promising to undermine the walls of an annoying castle for the one that had captured Aris and to reroute a caravan trail closer to the lair of the other.

As the agreements were made, Galaeron had a chance to see that while Aris had suffered no wounds worse than the talon punctures in his shoulders, the heat and thirst had taken its toll. The giant lay on the floor half conscious, with glassy eyes, a flushed face, and limbs as white as chalk. His hands were trembling and his breath was coming in fast, shallow pants.

"Aris needs water," Galaeron said. He was surprised to find his own throat swollen and raw from thirst. "We haven't had any since last night, and the desert-"

"He can wait," Clariburnus replied. "After the trouble you two caused us, I hope he chokes on his tongue."

"I am sure that would make the Most High very happy," mewled a familiar voice. "Especially after he has waited all this time for you to recapture them."

The dumpy form of Malik el Sami yn Nasser pushed between the waists of Clariburnus and Brennus and stepped into view. Dressed in a gray tunic with a tabard of black shadow over the top, he seemed an unwitting parody of the imposing forms of the two princes-especially with his weary, bloodshot eyes and his cuckold's horns proudly displayed atop his head.

Malik turned and called back between Clariburnus and Brennus, "Go and fetch a few barrels of water, and hurry. If the giant is harmed, I will see to it that the Most High has your heads."

To Galaeron's amazement, half the troop turned and scurried to obey. Any doubt that Malik had meant his message to lure Galaeron into a trap vanished at once.

"I see you've come up in the city," Galaeron said.

"No thanks to you."

The little man came forward, and brushing aside the black pike Clariburnus put out to keep him from getting too close, stood over Galaeron.

"How could you leave Vala to suffer so long? Your cruelty nearly got me killed!"

Putting aside for the moment how one might be connected to the other, Galaeron asked, "Then she's still alive? Your message said-"

Clariburnus used the pike to push Malik away. "It is not this lizard's place to discuss the slave of a prince."

Malik shrugged, spread his hands, and said, "He is right. Perhaps, if you please the Most High, he will intervene and let you see for yourself all the terrible things that Escanor has been visiting upon her at night."

Galaeron would have smiled at Malik’s cleverness, had the answer itself not filled his head with so many terrible images. The bones in his broken hand began to throb, and he thought of the crimson stain Dove had placed on it and how he would explain that to Telamont Tanthul.

The water arrived, and without leaving any for Galaeron, Malik led the soldiers carrying it over to his friend Aris. Clariburnus seemed to take delight in watching Galaeron lick his lips as he watched the little man trickle it down the giant's throat. Finally, Telamont Tanthul returned from his gift-making, and seeing where Galaeron's attention was fixed, motioned him to his feet.

"Come, you must be thirsty as well-and curious about your friend's condition."

He waited for Galaeron to rise, then placed an icy sleeve across Galaeron's shoulders and started toward the giant.

"I'm sorry for the difficult journey," Telamont continued. "It was my intention to bring you here in a more pleasant fashion, but you know dragons… I fear Malygris and his consorts may have been somewhat rougher on you than necessary. That young blue you killed in the Saiyaddar?"

Galaeron nodded, scarcely able to believe that the Most High was speaking to him as though he had just returned from a short trip outside the enclave.

"It was one of theirs," the Most High explained, just as they reached Malik and the water barrels and stopped. 'To tell you the truth, you're lucky you made it here at all. They kept giving us beholders and asabis and demanding that we help hunt down the murderers."

Galaeron's throat grew even drier. Blue dragons were not particularly family oriented, but he had talked to enough of them while serving along the Desert Border South to know that it offended their sense of magnificence to have a warm-blood kill a wyrm of their own line.

"Then I'd say we were very lucky," he said.

"We arranged something," said the Most High. He lifted an empty sleeve and pulled an ebony dipper out of the shadows, then filled it with water and passed it to Galaeron. "They really can't tell the smell of one moon elf from another, and it was a simple matter to sneak the hide into a camp one night"

Galaeron found the water going down the wrong passage and choked, spraying it out in a cone of silvery droplets.

"You didn't!"

"What choice did you leave me?" Telamont said. His voice had assumed that cold levelness it acquired whenever he struggled to contain his temper. "They kept bringing gifts, and I could hardly tell them it was you."

Galaeron looked at the empty dipper and wondered if he dared fill it again. Having tasted water, he could think of little except his thirst, but he had seen Telamont in moods like this and knew how risky it could be to presume in his presence.

On the other hand, what was the worst the Most High was going to do? Certainly not kill him, and angering him might make it easier for Galaeron to resist his will. He refilled the dipper and drank.

Telamont watched, platinum eyes burning with fury, but his empty sleeves folded calmly in front of him.

When Galaeron had finished, he asked, "Good?"

Galaeron met the shadow lord's gaze and smacked his lips.

"Have another." Telamont took the dipper and refilled it, then passed it back and said, "I insist."

Galaeron found himself gulping the water down like a drunkard breaking a long abstinence. Once the dipper was empty, Telamont took it and refilled it.

"You left Arabel with a caravan bound for Iriaebor, did you not?"

"That's so, but we were bound for Evereska." Galaeron told the lie quickly, trying to get it out before Telamont's will began to press down on him and force the truth. 'To join the fight against the phaerimm."

Telamont passed the dipper back to Galaeron, and again he found himself gulping the stuff down as though it might evaporate before he could finish.

"That is what our agents suggested, and yet Yder's point troubles me. What was it he said?"

Before Galaeron could answer, a pair of yellow eyes appeared in the darkness behind Telamont.

"That starting a beggar's riot does not seem a very good way to sneak out of a city."

Yder's gaunt face took form around his golden eyes, then he emerged from the shadows and stood at father's side.

"I also thought it strange," Yder added, "that they announced their departure by selling all of the giant's work."

Yder glanced over at Aris, who lay stretched out on his back, unaware of his surroundings, with Malik kneeling astride his chest dribbling dippers of water onto his cracked lips.

Telamont refilled Galaeron's empty dipper, and Galaeron began to gulp it down. He was no longer thirsty-he could already feel Alustriel and Dove sloshing around inside, banging off the walls of his stomach-but he could not stop himself from gulping it down as he had all the others.

"Had they needed the coin for their journey," Yder continued, "I would put this down to necessity."

"But if they needed the coin, why give it all to the beggars?" Clariburnus asked. "Something here stinks like the sulfur pits of Careen."

Telamont refilled the dipper. Though Galaeron's stomach was already so bloated it ached, he found himself reaching for it.

"It does sound odd, does it not?" The Most High pulled his hand away and asked, "Perhaps you care to explain it?"

Again, Galaeron forced the lie out before Telamont's will had a chance to compel the truth. "The statues earned more than we expected."

His fingers touched the dipper's handle, but Telamont did not let him take it.

"Is that so?" Telamont asked.

He released the dipper, and Galaeron began to pour more water into his swollen stomach. He was already in pain, but his mind insisted that he was as thirsty as before. Stopping was out of the question.

Telamont waited until Galaeron was finished, then refilled the dipper and held it in front of him. Though Galaeron felt like he might vomit up what he had already swallowed at any moment, and spill Alustriel and Dove on the Most High's feet, he wanted that water. He ached for it in the way he ached to touch the Shadow Weave, in the way a suffocating man aches for air.

"There was too much," Galaeron said. "We couldn't carry it"

Telamont continued to hold the dipper away, but remained silent. His will began to press down on Galaeron, and this time Galaeron could think only of how thirsty he had been crossing the desert and how much he wanted that water, of how badly his stomach hurt already, of how good it would feel when he drank that last dipper and finally grew so full he had to bring up everything he had swallowed.

He heard himself saying, "Besides, Prince Yder is right. We wanted to be captured."

This drew a smirk from Yder and a flash of interest from the Most High. Telamont allowed Galaeron to take the dipper, then watched with the purple shadow of a smile as the contents vanished down the elf's throat. Galaeron felt water sloshing in his throat, and his jaws began to ache.

Telamont took the dipper and refilled it, and Galaeron found his hand reaching for it yet again. Telamont held the handle away and remained silent. The weight of his will was crushing, and Galaeron could think of nothing but his aching jaws, his bloated stomach, and his overwhelming thirst.

"We came to rescue Vala," he said.

"You see?" Malik was up and sliding off Aris's chest, flinging water in all directions as he gestured with his dipper. "My excellent plan worked!"

Telamont remained silent and continued to hold the dipper out of reach. Galaeron felt the shadow lord's will crushing down on him, trying to force out the rest of the truth. He clenched his jaws and thought only of Evereska and his loyal friend Aris, of how the giant and the Chosen were risking so much to help-and there was his mistake. A dark voice arose inside him, reminding him of the blood on the Chosen's hands, telling him they could not be trusted, whispering of necessary trade-offs and secret bargains with the phaerimm.

Galaeron's mouth began to open, and it seemed to him that it belonged to someone else, to the dark being inside-

And Malik was at the Most High's side.

"Anything I want," he said. "That was our bargain."

"If you brought me Galaeron Nihmedu," Telamont said. "As I recall, Malygris did that."

The weight of his will diminished, and Galaeron's mouth became his own again.

"It was my message that lured him out," Malik said. "If I had not sent word telling him to come and save Vala, he would still be hiding from your magic in his Arabellan bolt hole."

"Be careful who you argue with, little man."

Telamont grew distracted enough to let the dipper drift into reach. Still possessed by his thirst, Galaeron snatched the handle and began to drink… and knew his stomach had reached its limit. Even as he drained the last of its contents, he began to gag.

"This is not some back alley flea market," Telamont continued, paying no attention to Galaeron's discomfort. "And I am no trader in trinkets."

"Nor am I some idiot dragon who can be bought off with your unkept promises," Malik retorted.

This was too much for the Most High. Telamont's sleeve lashed out in Malik's direction, and the little man tumbled away into the shadows. Three heartbeats later, a loud thud sounded from the gloom high up in the vaulted ceiling. A long breath echoed down afterward, and a softer thump from a dark corner.

Galaeron drained the last drops in the dipper and felt the contents of his stomach starting to rise. Realizing there was no fighting his own body's reflex, he flung the dipper aside and covered his mouth with both hands, then began a frantic search for someplace he could expel the Chosen where the Most High and his princes would not see.

The blow that Telamont had struck Malik would have been enough to kill most men, much less the impact against the wall that had followed, or the long fail that had followed that Yet even as Galaeron was pushing past Clariburnus with both hands over his mouth, Malik was limping out of the darkness, one impossibly twisted arm raised in Galaeron's direction.

"Ask him," Malik said. "Ask him if he did not receive a message from me that Vala's life was in grave danger, and if he did not allow himself to be captured so he could save her life."

There was an instant of silence then Telamont said, "As you wish… but I warn you, my patience is at an end."

Galaeron felt a familiar burden settling over him, but this time, the Most High would need to be patient. By then, Galaeron was leaning over Aris's leg, ejecting a watery torrent down between the giant’s s knees. He saw a pair of silvery flashes come splashing out and disappear into the shadows beneath Aris's huge thighs. He continued to vomit a foul-smelling bile, and the weight of Telamont’s will vanished.

"I think we will leave the question unanswered for now, Malik." The Most High sounded a little queasy himself. "The fact of Galaeron's return matters more than who is responsible. Name your price-but do not presume too much."

"Me? Presume too much?"

Malik’s delight was evident even over sound of Galaeron's continued retching.

The little man thought for a moment then said, "I am not the type to ask for much, er, much more than I think I can get All I want is my friend Aris."

"The giant?" Telamont asked. "You wish me to spare his life?"

"Yes, that is what I wish," Malik said. "And to have him as my slave, since I am very sure you do not want him running loose in your city again… and since his statues will bring an even greater profit if I have no need to share."

"I see." Telamont began to chuckle. "You may have the giant-and with him, the responsibility to see that your slave does Shade no harm."

Galaeron finally stopped retching. Wiping his mouth, he turned to see a very battered Malik standing a few paces away, examining the giant from head to foot

A cold sleeve settled on Galaeron's shoulder, and he turned to find Telamont standing beside him.

"Come, Galaeron, let us return to the Palace Most High," Telamont said as he guided the elf toward the Marshaling Plaza's gloomy exit "After such a difficult journey, I am sure you must be starving."