Wild Magic

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Famtoche Banddah ran his thumb along his jaw and scowled at the High Kasso as he came quietly into the Chamber. Juvalgrim wore a plain black robe, his hands were bare of rings, his hair brushed smoothly back, hanging in a silver-streaked fall down past his waist, his only adornment the cloudy crystal on the heavy black iron chain-Chumavayal’s Eye, the sign of his authority. Despite his annoyance with the man, Famtoche was tempted to applaud; the High Kasso dominated the room without saying a word.

Juvalgrim stopped as he reached the feet of the groveling Primes, moved a hand in a graceful gesture that took in them and the rows of terrified suppliants and acolytes shivering on their stools. “You’ve made your point, heshim.” His voice was like honey butter on hot bread, rich and satisfying. Famtoche lost his scowl and the hostas stirred, their leather creaking, metal clanking against metal. Juvalgrim brought his fingertips together, bowed his head slightly, his hair whispering across the rawsilk robe. “How may we serve you, O Amrapake?”

Famtoche Banddah brought his hand down flat against the chair arm, a sharp splatting sound that shattered the mood the High Kasso had created. “That Barrier or whatever it is, it mocks us and Chumavayal. Why do you permit it to exist, High Kasso?”

Juvalgrim tilted his hand in a gesture that conceded the disruption of the mood he’d tried to create. “Permit, Amrap? It is god-business, not mine.” His caressing voice once again drained much of the crackle from the air.

“I thought god was your business.”

“If Chumavayal wishes it gone, he’ll take it down. I can do nothing without his willing it. I am his servant, not his master.”

“Words!” Famtoche Banddah leaned forward. “You’re good at words, Kasso. Saying is you can talk your way through a wormhole. Talk your way round this. Fulaak.”

The chief guard stepped behind Juvalgrim, set the point of his grace-dagger at the Kasso’s throat.

Juvalgrim was silent for a breath, his face was as calm as it had been from the beginning; there was a look to him that Famtoche didn’t like, a resignation that took away one of his most powerful weapons, the fear of death. “You can kill me easily enough,” the High Kasso said. Honey-butter voice, beautiful and tranquil. “But what will it gain you?”

“Will you bring the Barrier down?”

“I cannot.”

“Try.”

“Do you think Chumavayal is a dog to come when he is called?”

“Try.’

‘

“No.’’

Fuaz Yoyote lifted his dirt-streaked face. “The children,” he said. “The foundlings. If you want him to act, bring them into it.”

“Ah. The Worm speaks. Stand, Worm. Betray your fellow Worm, if you will.”

“Betray?” Fuaz got stiffly to his feet, grunting with pain. “It’s him who betrays us. Do-Nothing, that’s what we call him. His pretty little bedmates are all he listens to

Famtoche Banddah pursed his lips, eyed Yoyote with interest. “Run away, little Prime, bring me back some leverage.”