The Forging of the Dragon (Wizard and Dragon Book 1) (10 page)

“You don’t represent their interests!”

“Oh, but we do. Much more so than you do the interests of the people of Pleclypsa!”

Seagryn was watching Uda as she watched Dark debate her father. Her eyes smoldered. With anger or with desire?

“He has you there, Paumer,” Sheth spoke up. His was a deep voice, rich and commanding.

“And I think you skipped a land, Paumer, to return to my question,” Chaom reminded the merchant. “Who represents Haranamous?”

“Why — you do, of course.” Paumer shrugged weakly.

“That’s correct. And who else?”

“I do,” Uda announced, and she tossed a quick scowl at her father for being too cowardly to say so. “I was appointed to the post by Nebalath himself,” she finished, and she folded her hands primly in her lap.

Chaom rolled his head around to look at Jarnel. “You see?”

The Prince of Arl sneered in disbelief. “I see.” He looked at Uda. “And are you also replacing Nebalath as wizard to King Haran?”

“Of course not,” the girl snapped.

“Uda,” Paumer warned quietly.

She frowned. “What’s your problem?”

“Uda shut your mouth,” her older brother whispered savagely.

Uda’s hair whirled as she glared back at Ognadzu and snapped, “You were there, too! You heard him!”

“Uda if you don’t —” Paumer began, but Ranoth cut him off.

“Let the girl alone, and Dark and Seagryn as well. They’re here — and so what? Sheth, with Nebalath no longer protecting Haranamous, is that land doomed to fall to Jarnel’s army?”

The wizard shrugged elaborately. “Dark knows,” he said, but with no reference at all to the young prophet sitting in their presence. “I’ve been busy in the Marwilds, chasing the bear baiters our ‘guests’ claim to represent. Jarnel? Will it fall soon?”

The general’s expression of disdain did not alter as he replied, “Its collapse is certain. For all I know my second-in-command is marching on the capital even now.”

“Let him,” Chaom grunted.

“With Sheth here you may feel secure,” Ranoth grumbled, “but without a wizard to cloak your people, what hope do you have against him?”

Chaom studied his sword-callused hands. “Ask him yourself.”

Ranoth looked at the wizard expectantly. “Can you continue your wilderness wanderings until winter forces Arl’s army home?”

Sheth revealed his widest, toothiest smile yet.

“Ranoth!” he mocked. “Are you asking
me
to be disloyal to my king?”

Ranoth hesitated only a moment. “Yes,” he grunted.

Sheth’s response was just as blunt. “No.”

The room fell silent. In the stillness, they all heard the unmistakable clatter of armed men in the corridor, a host of them, and Chaom jumped to his feet in alarm. “Who’s that?” he demanded of Wilker, and the Remnant representative hung his head.

“It’s Garney. I told you when you made me let him go that it wasn’t that simple. He’s so concerned about that gap in the wall that he’s decided to drive you all out through it and seal this room up tonight.”

“But our horses!” Paumer exclaimed. “You want us to walk down the mountain?”

“These two came on foot,” Wilker hedged, pointing at Dark and Seagryn.

“They’re not officially members!”

“I realize it’s an imposition,” Wilker continued, “but it’s hardly our fault.” He frowned at Seagryn as the door flew open behind him and two-score armed warriors burst into the room.

“But we weren’t finished!” Paumer roared, his face red.

“Yes, we were,” Jarnel said with finality as he skidded his chair backward and stood up. “The Grand Council is finished for good.”

Sheth cackled loudly at that. “For good, maybe, Jarnel. But not yet finished for evil, right? Right, young Dark?” The wizard hopped blithely over the table and stalked out the gaping hole in the wall. His exit was every bit as dramatic as his appearance had been. Indeed, the meeting was over.

Chapter Seven

BEAR HUNT

THE meeting didn’t just break apart, it shattered. The shouting match between Paumer and Garney was only the loudest of the ensuing arguments. Jarnel and Chaom snarled quiet threats at one another, while Paumer’s son tried to prevent his sister from going after Dark and got an earful of oaths for his trouble. Seagryn glanced at Dark and saw the young man’s gaze still riveted upon the girl. Terror? Excitement? Both? It didn’t matter. The sensual energy the two exchanged reminded him of his own feelings for his lost Elaryl. And there at the far end of the table stood her father.

“Talarath!” he called. When the elder refused to meet his eyes, Seagryn rounded the table to confront him face to face. “Elaryl,” he demanded. “How is she?”

“How do you suppose?” The gaunt elder’s words exploded out, powered by unrestrained bile. “How would any Lamathian woman react who discovered at her foot binding that her groom was a heretic wizard!”

“But it isn’t my fault —”

“I don’t care whose fault it is; I don’t care anything about you, save only this!” Talarath made a fist and shook it in Seagryn’s face. “Forget her! Forget she even lives!” The man straightened up then, his dignity restored, and his lips became a thin line as he finished, “As I’ve already forgotten you.”

Seagryn had known Talarath a long time. The man’s vehemence did not surprise him, nor would he try to fool himself into believing he could change this old cleric’s resolve. Yet he found he still couldn’t abandon the attempt completely. He turned to look imploringly at Ranoth, and was startled by the ruling elder’s odd smile.

“Let me deal with this,” Ranoth soothed Talarath. He slipped an arm around Seagryn’s waist and walked the younger man toward the wound in the wall.

“You surely understand that there’s no way we can restore you, Seagryn,” he began quietly, glancing up at the hole. “You’ve generated quite a spectacular ability and you seem compelled to demonstrate it in the most public of places. Hundreds of witnesses at the wedding, a dozen of the most influential voices in the world here — Ungh!” Ranoth grunted sadly. “And you showed such promise, too. That’s the tragedy of it all.” He turned to gaze out at the blue sky.

Despair put a lump in Seagryn’s throat that he couldn’t swallow. There was nothing more to say — nothing more to hope. Seagryn, too, looked out at the world.

“And yet,” Ranoth said with a practiced guile that seemed to grab Seagryn by the shoulders and wrench him around, “there does seem to be one possibility ...”

“What?” Seagryn demanded, and when Ranoth hesitated he seized the man’s sleeve and pleaded, “Tell me! What is it?”

Ranoth glanced down at his arm and waited until Seagryn released it. Then he smiled and leaned his head up to whisper, “Since you have these abilities, perhaps you should learn how to control them.” Then he gave a knowing nod toward the hole in the wall and raised an eyebrow.

Seagryn frowned. “Are you suggesting I follow this Sheth and attempt to learn something from him?”

Ranoth nodded again, but now he refused to look his former student in the eye.

Seagryn reeled at the thought. “But — but that’s using magic!”

“Did you seek these abilities, this shaping of odious powers?” Ranoth whispered.

“Of course not, they —”

“Then perhaps they’re a gift from the One we do not name! How should I know? But what does it matter, boy? What other option do you have? Go and learn what you can! And remember — when a nation has need of your services, it can overlook a multitude of sins.” As quickly as this was out of his mouth, Ranoth scooted back around the table. Seagryn watched him go, watched as he placated the still seething Talarath, and watched as both men made a point of turning their backs on him. But Ranoth had not left him hopeless. There was a chance. He stepped to the gaping hole his massive altershape had made and peered down the mountain. The tiny figure of Sheth was still visible far below.

“Don’t go,” a trembling voice pleaded behind him. He looked back over his shoulder at Dark.

“Why? Do you need my protection from that predatory miss?”

“I do,” Dark acknowledged, “but that’s not the reason for my warning.”

“Warning?” Seagryn frowned. “What’s going to happen?”

Dark raised an inquiring eyebrow. “You’re certain you want to know?”

Seagryn hesitated only an instant. “No,” he snarled, and he plunged out the breach and down the mountain. Sheth had disappeared into the timberline. Had he lost him? He scrambled downward, slipping on the gravel in his haste.

“Slow down! You’ll catch up to him!” he heard Dark call. He did slow his pace, but did not look back. A moment later Dark shouted, “You’re my friend, Seagryn! I only want to help you!” Seagryn descended in silence for several minutes more before Dark yelled again, and this time his voice seemed far removed. “It’s going to hurt!” the boy called, but Seagryn closed his ears and kept on going. He thought of nothing but Elaryl.

Once into the woods, he looked for footprints. While he believed Dark’s assurance that he would find the wizard, he had no idea when or under what conditions. If possible, he wanted to find Sheth and not the other way around. But Seagryn had spent his life searching out facts in old manuscripts, not hunting creatures in the wild. He found nothing that would give him any clue to the shaper’s path, and soon abandoned this scientific approach for the intuitive method that had served him so well as a cleric.

This Sheth was said to be a recluse. He would therefore prefer to stay as hidden as possible. That trick of slowly revealing himself — could the wizard somehow work it in reverse! Seagryn had heard Dark talk of cloaking. Was this perhaps that ability? Seagryn stopped where he was and listened. His mind whirled on.

Despite his evident arrogance, Sheth had revealed great interest in the subject matter of the meeting. Did he really take it all so casually to dismiss those deliberations with a high-handed insult? Or was Sheth the type of person who used language more for its dramatic effect than for its ability to reveal truths? The wizard had heard with the rest of them the news that all would have to depart through Seagryn’s ragged doorway. Was it possible that he’d hidden himself here in these woods and was waiting to follow one of the parties home?

Seagryn whirled around and stared hard at a spot ten feet behind him. Much as it had happened in the meeting room, Sheth slowly became visible.

“So.” Once Seagryn’s eyes locked onto his own, the wizard shrugged. “You found me.” Sheth sauntered forward. “Did you know you could penetrate cloaks?”

“What?”

“I thought not.” Sheth chuckled, and he shuffled past Seagryn to continue down the incline. He’d gone about a dozen paces when he stopped and looked back. “Well, aren’t you coming? I assume you chased me down for some reason ...?”

Seagryn nodded self-consciously and joined the shaper. They walked together in silence for several minutes before Seagryn raised the courage to ask, “What does it mean to penetrate cloaks?”

Sheth snorted scornfully, then frowned as if deep in thought. “I’d cloaked myself,” he finally grunted. “You saw me. That’s shaping.”

“How exactly did I do it?”

“How should I know — exactly?” Sheth sneered. “You did it. You figure it out.”

“Can you penetrate cloaks?” Sheth’s look of utter disdain made it clear that the question had been a stupid one. “What other feats can you perform?”

“I knew it,” Sheth growled, and he smiled at Seagryn sarcastically. Never had Seagryn felt so humiliated by a set of dimples. “You want me to teach you to shape. Am I right? A warm mentor-disciple relationship, resulting in your becoming someone I can respect as a peer? One of the boys? That’s the way you do it up in Lamath, right? Elders and initiates, cloistered away in some moldy monastery, exchanging lofty platitudes that maintain the spiritual status quo?” The wizard gave a derisive hoot. “Well I’m not much for teaching. If you want to follow along, fine. Apparently you have the power to pursue me. If you happen to see me do something spectacular —” here Sheth paused to cackle “— that’s only to be expected. If you should want to try it yourself, just make sure you put some distance between us. I don’t want to be caught in the backwash of your failed attempts. If I am —” Sheth’s expression turned forbidding “— then that’s trouble between us. Be forewarned.”

Seagryn refused to be intimidated by this wizard’s melodramatic threats. He responded quickly and quietly. “Fine. Shall we go?”

Sheth seemed a bit surprised by this, but he recovered easily, and his cheeks dimpled again. “I forget myself. I’m dealing with a cleric, and who has more confidence than that fool who thinks he has the ear of some almighty power?”

Seagryn didn’t respond, but he felt his initial dislike for this man growing in intensity. Another emotion swelled inside him, one he’d practically forgotten since his days of formal schooling. He’d gotten along well with his classmates as long as no one attempted to compete with him. Once a challenge was issued, however, Seagryn could never rest until he’d thoroughly outperformed his competitor. Sheth might not yet be aware of it, Seagryn thought, but his attitude had just created for himself a formidable rival.

“One other thing.” Sheth smirked. “I do have my enemies. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself in the line of fire. And if you do, don’t expect me to protect you.” Sheth stalked off, leaving Seagryn to follow several paces behind.

“I should be able to protect myself,” Seagryn mumbled to the wizard’s back. “I have a rather thick skin when I choose to wear it.”

“Oh, yes, the tugolith shape.” Sheth nodded. “I’ve never spent much time with other powershapers; but, on the few occasions when I have, we’ve invariably discussed altershapes. Everyone has the same theory — that the altershape one takes reflects some deep-seated aspect of the wizard’s personality.” Sheth stopped and looked back. “Tugoliths are stupid and they stink. Which of those are you, Seagryn? Both, perhaps?”

Before he could react to the insult Seagryn saw Sheth’s eyes cut to the left. Suddenly the shaper disappeared. War cries erupted all around him, and Marwandian raiders leaped out of the bushes. Arrows whizzed through the clearing, and Seagryn froze in his spot, wishing he could become invisible. Not until the warriors raced past him did he realize that indeed he had. “Down the path!” shouted someone very close by. “Pursue them!”

The band turned to rush down the incline, and Seagryn found himself grinning at them in giddy excitement. But he soon found that being invisible had disadvantages as well as advantages. One burly warrior did not swerve to avoid him, and knocked him sprawling. The Marwandian evidently knew what had hit him, or rather what he had hit, for he quickly grabbed onto Seagryn’s robes and began to shout “I’ve got one!” A moment later he was surely wishing he hadn’t. He had a tugolith by the horn.

“Northbeast!” the Marwandian screeched as he let go. Then the glade emptied of Marwandians, and Seagryn was left alone. He stood in the silence a moment, rocking unsteadily on his feet. Things certainly happened quickly for powershapers...

It had been a very long day. The sun was setting, and he felt famished. Sheth had disappeared, and Seagryn doubted if he would find him anywhere near this time. Still, the brief encounter had been a great confidence builder. He could make himself disappear. He could also ferret out another shaper who knew the same trick. There seemed to be little learning involved in making use of these powers — whatever he wished to do, he did. Apparently he could do what other shapers could. He just didn’t know enough about shaping yet to recognize the possibilities. That’s where exposure to Sheth could help him most, he realized, and he decided he would chase the arrogant wizard down again tomorrow. Tonight, however, he wanted nothing more than a good meal and a roof over his head. Seagryn remembered gratefully that the lovely town of Ritaven was very near. He headed toward it.

He expected to find Dark waiting for him. He no longer had any doubts about the boy’s ability — Dark could do what he said he could. Seagryn still found that a bit disconcerting, as if Dark wasn’t quite playing by the rules. He was grateful for the boy’s loyalty, however, and appreciated the warning Dark had tried to give. Obviously he’d been trying to prepare Seagryn for the Marwandian ambush, although when he was knocked to the ground he’d been more surprised than hurt.

Seagryn returned to the inn where he and Dark had spent the previous night. He hesitated at the doorway, however. The common room was filled with Marwandians. The same group who had attacked this afternoon? He couldn’t be sure, but lingering on the threshold could only draw attention to himself; rather than stand and stare, he made his way through the crowd to find a small table in a dark corner and sit behind it. He didn’t glance around immediately. When he did raise his eyes, he saw with relief that no one watched him. Too late, he recalled that he could have cloaked himself before entering the place. It would take time for him to learn how best to use his shaper powers. Even so, he had other abilities born from much longer training. While the people of Lamath were sincere believers, the presence of a clergyman always made them behave a bit more piously than necessary. He’d learned long ago to blend in with his surroundings, and he did so now.

He didn’t recognize the meat in the stew, but at this point anything would taste wonderful. He ate it gratefully, then asked his host for a room with some privacy. A tiny closet in the loft cost an exorbitant sum, but since Quirl mod Kit was paying for it, Seagryn didn’t argue. He wedged the door shut, and dropped into the straw.