Angus Wells - The God Wars 01 (47 page)

 
          
"You'd
give him the means to raise the Mad God? I'd as soon hand the book to Varent."

 
          
Bracht
stared at Calandryll, eyes narrowed. Calandryll shook his head.

 
          
"Not
that, but perhaps the promise of unimagined power."

 
          
"And
warrant of our deaths with it."

 
          
"Not
if he believes he needs us. He cannot touch the stone, remember. And the stone
wards me from his magic. Perhaps it shields me enough that I may ensnare him—
promise him the gramaryes of Tezin-dar in return for our freedom. Persuade him
that he needs us; that he's better served joining us than aiding
Sathoman."

 
          
"That's
a desperate plan," Bracht said softly.

 
          
"I
can think of no other," Calandryll returned.

 
          
"Nor
I," the Kem admitted, "but it's a snare that must surely leave us in
his power—if he takes the bait."

 
          
"It
might at least see us clear of Sathoman," Calandryll said. "And
whilst we remain here time passes— perhaps Azumandias finds a way to
Tezin-dar."

 
          
Bracht
nodded, then hissed a warning. Calandryll turned to see Anomius approaching.

 
          
The
wizard gestured at the doorway and stepped through, spelling light into the shed
once more. Calandryll thought that perhaps his shoulders slumped a fraction;
that perhaps the practice of magic tired him: certainly, he appeared less
vital, and a petulant expression showed on the parchment features.

 
          
"So
impatient," he murmured, "Now, now, now,- always
now.
He will
not wait and I must use magic where arrows would serve as well. I've promised
him Kesham- vaj—you heard me promise that, did you not?—but he'd have it now.
Not tomorrow, not in time, but now!"

 
          
"The
virtue of patience is a rare commodity," Calandryll said.

 
          
"A
philosopher?" Anomius cocked an inquistive eyebrow. "No doubt the
benefit of your father's palace. You've an education, eh? These men of the
ek'Hennem have so little. No more than bandits, were the truth told."

 
          
"Why
do you serve a hedge lord?" Calandryll ventured. "Surely the Tyrant
himself would prize your allegiance?"

           
"A hedge lord?" Anomius
chuckled softly. "Best not let him hear that, lad. But yes—of now he is
little more
than
that.
But after he's taken Kesham-vaj—ah, then he'll be more. Much more!"

 
          
"Tyrant,
perhaps?" Calandryll asked.

 
          
Anomius
stared at him, lips pursed, then smiled, nodding to himself, his mood
brightening. He turned, calling for a stool to be brought, and settled himself
before them, fussily arranging the folds of his grubby robe.

 
          
"My
lord Sathoman ek'Hennem is a mighty warrior," he declared when he was
comfortable, his manner pedagogic again. "Men rally to him for what he is,
not just the title. When his father died on the Stone Field it was young
Sathoman—a youth no older than you at the time—who gathered the ek'Hennem army
and swore to deny Iodrydus tenure of Fayne Keep. And he succeeded. Three times
he withstood siege—aided, of course, by me!—and after that the Tyrant left him
be. Now he rules the Fayne. Almost, at least: the Tyrant's lictors still lay
claim to the towns, but that shall soon end. Once Kesham-vaj has fallen we'll
hold the road. Take Mherut'yi and our back's protected—all the Fayne will
acknowledge Sathoman. Mhazomul, Ghombalar, Vishat'yi we can take at
leisure—isolate Nhur-jabal! Yes, I'll make Sathoman Tyrant of
Kandahar
before I'm done."

 
          
He
paused, scratching vigorously beneath his robe, his smile dreamy,- demented.

 
          
"And
that should answer your other question. Of course the Tyrant would prize my
services—did he not put me to death for aiding the ek'Hennem cause—but then I
should be merely one more sorcerer at court. When I install Sathoman as lord of
all
Kandahar
I shall be paramount sorcerer. All
Kandahar
shall hail me and the Tyrant's puppet mages
shall bow before me!"

 
          
"Why
did you halt your fire at the barricade?" Calandryll wondered.
"Surely you could have razed the town?"

 
          
The
warlock's expression darkened a fraction. He sniffed; rubbed at his bulbous
nose.

 
          
"You
saw that, eh? Why do you think?"

 
          
"Bracht
said you'd have no use for a ruin." Calandryll smiled apologetically.
"I wondered if perhaps there's magic in the town's defenses."

 
          
"Bracht
is no fool." Anomius glanced, nodding, in the Kem's direction. "Kesham-vaj
commands this highland and Sathoman has the bulk of his army here. Such a force
needs a secure base—we need Kesham-vaj intact. As for magic—yes, there's a
wizard of some small ability in the town. It seems dead Cenophus learned
something of our plans and sent word to the Tyrant, who answered his lie- tor's
request with a mage. I could, of course, overcome him, but likely our warring
powers would destroy all Kesham-vaj. I prefer to whittle him down and present
Sathoman with a town entire. It's a matter of time; no more than a few
days."

 
          
"But
Sathoman grows impatient," said Calandryll, encouraged by the wizard's
loquacity.

 
          
"Always
impatient," Anomius nodded. "Had I not counseled the division of his
forces, he'd have all his army here. But—fortunately for him—he bows to my
better judgment: by now Mherut'yi, too, is under siege."

 
          
"Wise
counsel," Calandryll applauded.

 
          
"Yes,"
Anomius agreed.

 
          
"You'll
be the greatest sorcerer in
Kandahar
,"
Calandryll said. "Perhaps in all the world."

 
          
"Undoubtedly."
The wizard beamed; then frowned: "Perhaps? How do you mean—perhaps?"

 
          
Calandryll
paused, gathering his thoughts. He felt the bait taken, but the reeling in
demanded great care. For all Anomius's pride, his overweaning ambition, he was
no fool to step careless into so flimsy a snare.

 
          
"I've
thought on what you said, and I'd not see Bracht suffer," he declared.
"I doubt that even protected by the stone I could deny you."

 
          
"Wise,"
Anomius murmured approvingly. "That stone's a minor obstacle to one of my
ability."

 
          
"Indeed,"
Calandryll nodded, "Nor a thing to be damaged, for it's a key to power and
set with protective magicks."

           
The wizard's small eyes grew smaller
still.

 
          
"Explain
yourself, Calandryll den Karynth—I find you interest me."

 
          
"I
lied earlier, just as you surmised. I thought to deceive you, but clearly
that's impossible."

 
          
"Quite,"
said Anomius.

 
          
"I
did not steal the stone—it was given me by a sorcerer of Lysse, Lord Varent den
Tarl. He helped me escape Secca and in return I, and Bracht, undertook a quest
on his behalf. You've seen the map—would you study it again?”

 
          
Anomius's
sallow features glowed with fascination. He gestured at where their gear was
tossed and the satchel rose in the air, floating to his hands. He drew out the
chart, smoothing it over his knees.

 
          
"You
know, of course, of the chartographer Orwen," Calandryll said.

 
          
"Of
course," Anomius agreed. A fraction too readily, Calandryll thought, as if
the ugly little man sought to conceal ignorance.

 
          
"Who
was commissioned by the domm, Thomus, to make a map of Gessyth. A map showing
the location of Tezin-dar."

 
          
"You
say this is it?" Anomius tapped the sheet. "This is no ancient map,
but something new."

 
          
"A
copy," Calandryll said quickly. "A copy of the chart I took from Secca's
archives, and another. The two combined show the way to Tezin-dar. I drew it
myself."

 
          
"And
this Varent den Tarl employed you and the Kem to go there? To what purpose? Why
not journey there himself?"

 
          
"Not
all magicians have your coinage," Calandryll said. "Lord Varent
prefers to remain safe in Lysse while we undertake his mission."

 
          
Anomius
snorted contempt.

 
          
"And
should you succeed, what are you to fetch him?"

 
          
Now
was the moment; Calandryll heard it in the warlock's voice, saw it in his eyes.
He licked his lips, knowing that his life and Bracht's hung on the precarious
thread of his words: knew that death was the price of failure. The balance was
delicate: to speak of the Arcanum was to give the mage too much, to risk the
entry of another player in the world-shattering game—and one who, at the
moment, held the upper hand—but he must offer Anomius something, some prize of
sufficient worth he might be tempted from Sathoman's service, tempted to free
them. He was unaccustomed to such maneuvering, to this juggling of truth and
half-truth and deceits, but he must find the bait with which to hook the
wizard's interest. And swiftly, for their lives depended on it.

 
          
"There
is a grimoire," he said carefully, feigning reluctance, "that Lord
Varent claims is old as time. A book of gramaryes written when the world was
young and the Elder Gods ruled. He believes it lies in Tezin-dar; he believes
it contains forgotten spells. He said that the wizard who owns it must wield
power unimaginable."

 
          
"Ah!"
Anomius raised a hand, halting him. "I repeat, why should he entrust you
two with such a mission?"

 
          
"I
speak and read the Old Tongue," Calandryll said; quickly, "And so am
able to read the map."

 
          
"The
Old Tongue?" Anomius leaned forward, elbow on knee, chin on hand.
"That's a long-forgotten art."

 
          
"And
yet I can," Calandryll returned. "Do you?"

 
          
Anomius
shook his head, irritation sparking in his eyes. Calandryll shrugged as best he
could with hands bound at his back.

 
          
"Because
I speak it, and because Lord Varent lacks your daring, he preferred that I
should make the journey on his behalf. Bracht accompanies me as
bodyguard." He saw irritation replaced with interest again and continued
swiftly, "The one half of the map I
did
steal—from the archives of
my father's palace—my father would have me a priest and Lord Varent offered the
better bargain: to bring him that half of the map that he might match it to the
half he owned, and he would bring me safe out of Secca. Yet with the way to
Tezin-dar shown, he was reluctant to venture the journey himself. He urged me
to undertake it—with Bracht—and bring him the book."

 
          
"He
would trust you to fetch it?" Anomius's yellow brow wrinkled, a finger
rubbing at his swollen nose. "Would he not fear you'd keep it to
yourself?"

 
          
"To
what end? I have no knowledge of magic—as you discerned yourself,"
Calandryll said. "If I possess any occult talent, it is unknown to
me."

 
          
"And
yet you wear a sorcerer's stone," said Anomius.