The Forging of the Dragon (Wizard and Dragon Book 1) (9 page)

Garney cleared his throat and spoke up loudly: “O Master of the One Vast Land, Ruler from Time unto Time, these are but a few of your humble subjects, members of the Ad Hoc Advisory Committee on Provincial Concerns. They’ve come to join with myself and Wilker to discuss external affairs.”

“Ah.” The king nodded and shifted position, tucking one leg beneath him. “Problems out there?”

“None, my gracious King,” Garney answered quickly. Jarnel studied the ruler’s dark eyes. Even as Garney spoke, the king shifted his gaze here and there around the huge room, evidently bored beyond measure. Oh, what the Pyralu of Arl would do to this man once these walls were penetrated — yet the king of the One Land knew nothing of the danger, nor would his counsellors tell him. That was the tradition within the Remnant — the royal family had never been informed that the One Land no longer existed.

“You’re not coming to the play, then?” the king asked Garney, and the doorkeeper dropped humbly to his knees.

“No, your Majesty. These matters, while trivial, demand my attention.”

The king nodded. “Pity. What a nuisance.” Then he got to his feet and stalked down off the far side of the circular dais, followed by a dozen fawning servants. Once he was gone, Garney looked at the group.

“Now we can join the others,” he muttered, and he started toward a hallway that branched off the throne room.

“Where are we meeting?” Paumer asked as they followed Garney out.

“A small room on the back side. We’ll need to ride.” He led them out of the throne room and down a long ramp, then around a corner into a stable carved out of the rock. There he provided them each with a horse, since their own animals had been confined to pens within the Outer Portal. After two hours of subterranean riding through the seemingly endless passageways, Garney reined his horse to a stop. A moment later he ushered them into a modest conference chamber.

“Welcome!” Wilker, the effusive fop who fancied himself the supervisor of this council, smiled. Like every other resident of the Remnant he conceived of the world outside as a small, uncultured village — this despite the fact that he had visited both Arl and Haranamous. “We’ve been patiently awaiting your arrival.”

The other members of the Conspiracy who were present snorted derisively. “
You
have, perhaps,” the smaller of the two said.

“Greetings, Ranoth,” Paumer said cordially. “And to you, Talarath. How are things in Lamath?”

“Not well,” Ranoth answered gruffly. “Displaced Marwandians invade us. Our children turn into monsters. Who can predict what might happen next?”

As if in answer to his question, the back wall of the conference room suddenly crumbled away, and dust and the afternoon sun streamed in from the outside world. Uda screamed, several others gasped, and Jarnel grunted at the shock. Standing in the gap was the slim figure of Dark, and beside the boy loomed a beast Jarnel knew only from legends. “So this,” he thought, “is a tugolith.”

Chapter Six

CRISIS IN THE COUNCIL

DARK shielded his eyes and peered in. Then he stepped through the gap and glanced around the meeting room. “Why is everyone staring?” The boy shrugged. “I told you we’d be here.”

Like the sliding pebble that sets off an avalanche, Dark’s words released a landslide of chaotic activity. “What have you done?” Garney screamed as he vaulted the table and shoved his pointed nose in Dark’s face. “You’ve ruined the citadel! You’ve breached the palace!”

“Well I’m sorry, Garney, but we had to get here and this was the only way we could make it on time.” Dark brushed the dust from his clothing. “Besides, I didn’t breach it at all. He did.” He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder as Seagryn, now once more in his human shape, stepped carefully over the rubble and looked around. Garney continued to rail as Dark turned to explain to Seagryn. “This man is the Doorkeeper of the One Land. His name is Garney, and he takes his job very seriously. Excuse us, please,” Dark mumbled as he took Seagryn by the sleeve and led him past the infuriated official.

Garney vaulted the table again and began shaking a finger in Wilker’s face. “That’s Wilker,” Dark advised quietly, “the other representative from the Remnant. Never mind,” he added. “They’re always fighting.”

By now Seagryn’s attention had shifted to another, larger argument at the far end of the table. Dark saw his glance and quickly pointed out the participants. “That’s Jarnel, the Prince of the Army of Arl. That huge, heavy-faced man with him is Chaom, who guides the armies of Haranamous. You recognize the colors of the House of Paumer? Well the silver-haired man wearing them is Paumer. As for the other two — I suppose you know them already? Rather well?”

Seagryn’s jaw had sagged open. Long before Dark finished his commentary the almost-bridegroom had locked eyes with the familiar scowl of the father of the bride. “Talarath!”

Paumer had turned to glare at Dark and now stalked down the length of the table, his gray eyebrows abristle with rage. “What are you doing here, boy?” he half whispered. “What do we need to do to rid ourselves of you? Kill you? Will that do it?” The words and tone were menacing enough to draw Seagryn’s eyes away from Talarath to watch Dark’s reaction. The boy surprised him. He didn’t flinch at this abuse; instead he came right back in Paumer’s face.

“Threaten all you like, Paumer, but I know the date of your death! Do you know it? Would you like to?” Dark stepped toward the merchant, but it wasn’t necessary. The man had already thrown up his hands to cover his ears and was retreating. Seagryn happened to glance at the two warriors who wore Paumer’s livery and observed their smiles of delight.

“So, Dark,” Ranoth snorted, and Seagryn looked now at the man he’d honored as a leader all of his adult life. “This is the wizard you promised to bring us? I already know he can change into a tugolith and knock down walls. But can he do anything else?”

This was too much. “Hypocrite!” Seagryn exploded. “You and Talarath both, you’re hypocrites! The people of Lamath trust you, believe in you as representatives of the One who is never named, yet here you are consorting with merchants and magic users!”

“Careful, Seagryn,” Ranoth muttered. “You’re here, too, you realize.”

Seagryn stiffened to his full height and threw out his barrel chest. “I’m no part of this Conspiracy! I came here in the presence of an honest prophet, and I’ll depart with a single goal in mind —” He pointed a trembling finger at Ranoth. “ — to expose your involvement in this scandalous enterprise to every believing Lamathian!”

“Umm,” Ranoth grunted, nodding. “And ... ah ... those who don’t swallow it I suppose you’ll just turn into a monster again and swallow them?”

“Ranoth,” Talarath warned his associate quietly.

“Let him eat me!” Ranoth shouted back at Talarath, then his sharp eyes sought out Dark. “Is today my day, boy? Is that why you’ve brought this heretic wizard among us, so he can gulp the conspiracy whole?”

“Gentlemen, please,” Paumer broke in nervously, “let’s have no more talk of death or swallowing today —”

“What are we to talk about, Paumer?” Jarnel snarled from the far end of the room. “When the wisdom of a Nebalath is replaced by children —”

“Please, Jarnel!” Paumer snapped with unaccustomed savagery. “You will — have — your — chance!” The Prince of Arl held his peace, but his eyes shared readily with everyone his contempt for this whole affair. “Now,” the merchant said more calmly, “with one notable exception, we seem to be all present. Shall we take our seats at the table?”

“I will
not
!” Garney shouted, and everyone looked toward the door.

The man was not answering Paumer. Rather he struggled to get past Wilker, who held the Doorkeeper by the shoulders as he explained over the smaller man’s head, “He says he’s leaving —”

“Let him go!” Ranoth erupted. “We need him even less than we need the monster!” Seagryn’s face burned, but he held his temper. He’d never seen Ranoth so out of control.

“It isn’t quite that simple ...” Wilker said, but he stepped aside, and Garney shot out of the room’s only official door. The handsome Wilker shrugged apologetically to the group as he came to sit at the table.

Dark tugged Seagryn’s sleeve and motioned toward the nearest chair. Seagryn ignored the grumbling around him as he moved to it; but once in place, he glanced up and down the table to see who might be staring at him. Someone was, and he bumped Dark’s arm and indicated the sullen adolescent across from him. “Who’s that?” he muttered.

“Hmm?” Dark grunted. “Oh. Ognadzu, son of Paumer.” Dark shot his fellow teen a toothy grin. “How are you?” he asked brightly, but this only deepened Ognadzu’s scowl.

“And who’s the girl?” Seagryn whispered, nodding toward the only female present.

“She’s ...” Dark began, turning his head to look at Uda. Then he froze. Uda lounged sideways in her chair, both legs thrown over one armrest, her elbow and torso supported by the other. She chewed her thumbnail reflectively as she stared at Dark. Certain she’d at last caught his attention, she glanced down at the hem of her skirt and gave it a little flip. If this gesture was designed to cover a bit more of her legs, it failed miserably. Dark noticed that, then glanced nervously back up at her eyes to see if she’d noticed. She had. She definitely had ...

Seagryn watched this exchange with embarrassment. No Lamathian girl would behave so disrespectfully in the presence of a group of elders. He tried to frown the girl down, but she ignored him completely. She had eyes for Dark alone, and Seagryn felt the lad sliding backward in his seat. The young prophet kept clearing his throat and swallowing.

“Uda, pull your skirt down,” Paumer muttered. He didn’t wait to see if she obeyed, but plunged into his agenda. “We’re assembled to discuss the international pressures that trouble us all. Jarnel’s king has made no secret of his intent to crush Haranamous; from there, it’s only a swift bite for Arl to consume Pleclypsa as well. Ranoth, Talarath, I believe you’re being bothered by roving Marwandians, forced out of the Marwilds by Arl’s intrusion there. Once the Pyralu controls both the western and southern mouths of this pass he’s certain to pincer the Remnant —”

“Oh he won’t trouble us.” Wilker chuckled, but Paumer cut him off immediately.

“He will bother you, and Lamath too, unless we find some way to halt his march!” The merchant wheeled around to look toward the end of the table. “Jarnel. Would you or Chaom apprise the rest of us of the military situation?”

Seagryn leaned forward to see the general’s response. The man’s expression hadn’t changed. “The rest of whom?” Jarnel snarled. “What purpose could that possibly serve without Nebalath being present?”

“Jarnel,” Paumer growled quietly, “this is still the Grand Council —”

“I see two ineffectual priests from the high holy north, one grasping money-handler and his two spoiled brats, one know-it-all child prophet, a destructive pseudowizard I’ve never heard of before, and my sworn enemy from the battlefield!
This
is a Grand Council?” The general’s gaze blistered the whole assembly. “Oh,” he added belatedly, “Pardon me Wilker, I do see you also.”

Seagryn glanced at the Remnant’s remaining representative and watched the man chew his lower lip in humiliation. He then looked back at the Prince of Arl with respect — he agreed with the man. This was the Conspiracy Quirl mod Kit so feared and hated? Seagryn was not impressed.

Jarnel continued. “I see not one person present who can actually do anything to change the situation —”

“I’m here.”

This announcement was devastating, coming as it did from the empty space above the table. Even more so was Sheth’s slow unveiling of himself. He said no more until he’d made himself fully visible. Then, with a smirk, he strolled to the far end of the table from Paumer and sat down upon it. The entire assembly was stunned. Uda finally stared somewhere other than at Dark, and the lad began to breathe again. This was impressive, Seagryn thought to himself — along with being loathsomely magical, of course.

“As I was saying,” Jarnel picked up again, and it was apparent in his voice that Sheth did not impress him. “I saw no one here who could help. Now I see one who could, but won’t.”

Sheth chuckled, then smiled, his black mustache parting to reveal perfect teeth, but not extending out far enough to obscure his dimples. “Such integrity, Jarnel. I wonder, though, if the king would consider it integrity. You remember him, don’t you? Our king?”

Jarnel slumped back in his chair and fingered his forehead as if it ached. Defeat? Or just loathing? Seagryn glanced back at the beaming wizard, his own sense of distaste growing. Although certain he already knew from Quirl’s bitter account, he leaned toward Dark and muttered “Who is this man?”

Sheth heard the question, and scooted up the table on his knees to stare into Seagryn’s face. “You don’t know me?” he asked with mock incredulity. “Dark,” he scolded. “I think you’ve been remiss in this prayer sayer’s education.”

Uda’s stare had already driven Dark far down into his seat. Sheth’s gaze nevertheless drove him deeper. “This is Sheth,” he managed to strangle out.

Sheth beamed, and looked back at Seagryn. “Yes ... I’m Sheth. You’ve heard of me, perhaps?”

While Uda’s manners had embarrassed Seagryn, Sheth’s left him appalled. The man sat and crossed his legs two feet in front of Seagryn, almost in his lap. “A bit,” he managed to get past his gritted teeth.

Sheth laughed aloud. “A bit!” Then he leaned forward, his blue eyes turning icy. “I hear you’ve found your altershape, and the clerics have tossed you out. Well, if you want to be a wizard, then watch me. I’m the only powershaper worthy of the title — and I intend to remain so.”

A ripple of terror jellied Seagryn’s spine. This Sheth was threatening him! But threats had never had their intended effect upon Seagryn. He responded wisely to warnings, redemptively to confessions, thankfully to offers of advice. But threats just made Seagryn angry, and right now he felt nothing if not threatened. “Would it be possible for you to take a seat at the table as any other civilized person might do?” He spoke with great force, his green eyes locking hard into Sheth’s penetrating gaze.

His words drew a surprised gasp from several members of the council, and Sheth himself leaned back on his hands.

“Better do as he says, Sheth,” Ranoth piped up quickly. “If he turns into a tugolith and sits on you, you’ll be the flattest powershaper worthy of the title.”

The comment drew a nervous laugh — and successfully defused the tension. Sheth shot the bearded priest a wry grin, then casually swung his legs over the edge of the table and hopped off. He ambled around to a vacant chair and plopped into it.

Seagryn watched him go, feeling fierce with victory. He’d been challenged and had met the challenge squarely. Sheth glanced up and saw his look, and nodded affably. Respect? Had he won this wizard’s respect so easily?

“Do you think it possible to return now to our business?” Paumer asked with saccharine sweetness. Feeling more a part of the proceedings now, Seagryn shifted in his seat to face the merchant. He noticed as he did that Uda had again directed her hungry gaze at Dark. The boy sat paralyzed, and the thought crossed Seagryn’s mind: Was he remembering some future with this girl?

“Before we do,” the warrior Chaom interrupted, “could I have some explanation as to who represents what lands? I’m afraid I’m a bit confused ...” Seagryn could tell from the man’s expression that Chaom was not confused at all. If the question had been designed to fluster Paumer, it obviously had succeeded.

“Ah — ah — certainly,” the merchant mumbled, seeming to flutter in his chair like a trapped bird. “Wilker and Garney represent the Remnant —”

“The One Land,” Wilker corrected in a manner both kind and firm.

“Ah, yes of course.” Paumer nodded. “Jarnel and Sheth represent Arl, Ranoth and Talarath keep us abreast of Lamathian concerns, Ognadzu and myself come from Pleclypsa. As for Dark and his guest, I can’t imagine who they believe themselves to represent —”

“We’re from Marwand!” Dark said sharply, which surprised Seagryn. He’d thought the boy rendered senseless.

“That’s ridiculous,” Paumer snarled. “The Marwilds aren’t a land —”

“But they are counted as one of the fragments,” Dark argued. “In any case, the Marwandians are a people, and they deserve to be a part of our process as much as any other people.”