Authors: Robert P. Hansen
15
Iscara huddled in a dark corner of one of Argyle’s playrooms
and wondered how long it would be before Argyle/Symptata came back to ask her
more questions. She was famished, and the air was turning stale, but at least
he hadn’t killed her yet. Then again, he might have decided to leave her in the
playroom until she suffocated or starved to death.
No
, she tried to
convince herself,
he would want to watch me die.
She opened her healer’s
bag and covered her mouth with it again. She took a deep breath, relishing the
cool fresh air she was able to suck through it. The bag wasn’t supposed to be
used this way—normally she reached through it to get medicine or bandages to
use on her clients—but it was still keeping her alive, wasn’t it?
For now. How long would she be able to withstand starvation
and dehydration? Longer than most, surely, since she could manipulate the magic
within her to remove the toxic substances from her blood, delay organ failure,
and stave off a myriad of other complications resulting from a lack of food and
water. Eventually, though, her healing powers would fail her and she would
lapse into unconsciousness and die.
She inhaled through her bag again and idly wondered how long
it would take for the air in her workroom to go stale. It wasn’t sealed as
tightly as Argyle’s playroom, so maybe it wouldn’t go stale at all?
How long has it been?
she wondered.
A day? Two?
More? Will the king send someone down to find me?
She smiled and shook her
head.
I’m expendable. He doesn’t expect me to survive. If he thought it was
safe enough, he would have sent Grayle down with me.
She sighed and took
another deep breath from her bag and waited.
16
Angus coughed again. He had begun coughing almost as soon as
he had taken flight, and it had gotten steadily worse as the smoke thickened.
It was a strange smoke that left a sour taste in his throat and its warm
pungency bit into his lungs. He lifted his right arm and used the sleeve to
cover his mouth. It helped, but it would have been better to have waited to fly
off until he had dampened one of Jagra’s sheets. There was no point in
recriminations. Besides, that bastard Hobart would have kept him from flying
over to the patrol without him if he had waited. Hobart didn’t want him to find
Embril or The Tiger’s Eye; he just wanted to get the mission over with so he
could end his Banner. Where would that leave Angus? He had signed a two-year
contract with the Banner of the Wounded Hand, and he had intended to serve out
that time. What right did Hobart have to abandon him like that?
His eyes stung as he flew through a particularly dense patch
of smoke. Even through his sleeve he could smell the musty odor of the smoke
and feel it sharpening his senses and his thoughts. Why would Hobart want to
keep him from saving Embril? If he could save her, he would have The Tiger’s
Eye and would be able to put it back again. If he did that, then he would be
saving Hellsbreath. Hobart would want to save Hellsbreath, even if he didn’t
care what happened to Angus or Embril. And he didn’t care what happened to
Angus, did he? Once Angus had told him what they were doing, he hadn’t said
anything to him that didn’t relate to making camp, breaking camp, riding
slower, or any of the other mundane tasks Banners had to deal with when they
were away from a city or village. He hadn’t even asked anything else about The
Tiger’s Eye or why they were going where they were going. It was as if he
already knew all about it. Maybe he did?
Angus frowned and started to chew on his sleeve as a new,
troubling thought occurred to him: What if it hadn’t been Embril who had taken
The Tiger’s Eye? What if someone else on the patrol had done it? He hadn’t seen
Embril with them, had he? But The Tiger’s Eye was there; the disruption in the
magic told him that. Of course, he was too far away from the patrol and the
haze of smoke made it impossible to be certain she wasn’t with them, but what
if she wasn’t? What if Commander Garret had ordered the patrol to get The
Tiger’s Eye and Embril had tried to stop them? That would be just like Commander
Garret wouldn’t it? He had kept him locked up in Hellsbreath’s Wizards’ School
instead of letting him go after the patrol when there was still time to stop
them. What if the king hadn’t issued those orders at all? What if Commander
Garret had only
said
they were the king’s orders? And that guard at the
lift? Commander Garret could have planted him there to make sure that Angus got
underway when the Commander wanted him to go and not before then. But what
would his motive be?
With The Tiger’s Eye at his disposal, Commander Garret would
have immense power. A nexus of his own that he could carry around with him
wherever he went? Who wouldn’t want that kind of power? Embril. She had no
desire for power; her thirst was for knowledge. That was why he had asked her
to go with the patrol in the first place. It was
his
fault she was dead!
If she was dead. She might not be. He couldn’t even blame Voltari for it—unless
Commander Garret and Voltari were working together. Two powerful men in the
same part of the world—it would be inevitable that they would cross swords or
become allies.
He had better make sure Embril was dead before he did
anything to the patrol. It wouldn’t do to let them know he was onto them until
he was ready to act. Yes, he had to be cautious, didn’t he? He needed to find
out what they knew first, and he couldn’t do that if he started throwing spells
at them as soon as he landed. No, he would let them talk, even though what they
said would all be lies. There might be enough truth in those lies for him to
find out what they had done to Embril.
He was still working through the details of Voltari’s and
Commander Garret’s elaborate conspiracy when he got close enough to see that
Embril wasn’t with the patrol. If she had been—injured or no—he would have been
able to identify her even through the cloths the patrol was using to cover
their faces. All the riders were men. He was sure of it. All but one, and she
was too small to be Embril. She was riding with another little man, one who was
about the same size as Giorge. He carried himself in the saddle like Giorge
did, too. Then one of the riders saw him and pointed. The rest of the patrol
turned his way, and he prepared to veer sharply. The lead horseman held up his
arm to stop the patrol and then turned back to Angus. They were still too far
away for him to hear them, but the little man and woman—perhaps they were
children?—rode up to the lead rider and stopped. They talked for a few seconds,
and then the little man rode forward and unwound the cloth from his face and—
It was Giorge! He was alive! Angus slowed down to give this
new bit of information enough time to settle into the elaborate scheme he was
devising. How had Giorge gotten back to Hellsbreath in time to join the patrol?
It shouldn’t have been possible—unless something like Sardach had helped him do
it. But Hobart had said the frost elemental had killed Giorge and left behind a
frozen corpse. Hobart could have lied, though. Yes, that was it. Giorge
hadn’t
been killed at all. He had been carried off by the frost elemental, and it had
taken him back to Hellsbreath so he could go with the patrol. It made sense.
Giorge knew where the nexus was and so did Hobart. If Hobart had told Commander
Garret about the nexus, and Commander Garret knew about The Tiger’s Eye, then
he could have told them about it. Then all they had to do was keep Angus from
going with the patrol. It had been
Giorge’s
idea to go after the
fletching eggs….
He was almost close enough to shout at the patrol, but he
wasn’t going to land beside them. That would make him an easy target, and he
intended to make them pay dearly for his life if they refused to give him The
Tiger’s Eye. If he landed further away, and if they didn’t have bows or
throwing knives—
Giorge has throwing knives!
—then he could prepare a
spell to use against them before they were close enough to become a threat with
their swords. Yes, that was what he needed to do. He veered to the right,
heading to a spot well ahead of the patrol.
Hobart had been talking with Commander Garret for quite a
while when Angus had barged in on them to get the king’s—
Commander Garret’s
—orders.
What had they been talking about? Angus? The Tiger’s Eye? The patrol? Had
Commander Garret offered Hobart a reward for having kept Angus away until the
patrol had succeeded in getting The Tiger’s Eye? Was there a promise for future
payment if he kept Angus from recapturing The Tiger’s Eye? Is that why Hobart
was disbanding the Banner? Because he had enough wealth that he didn’t need the
Banner anymore? But Ortis—
He frowned. Ortis didn’t fit into this plot, did he? What
could he hope to gain from the volcanic eruptions? He couldn’t extort a fortune
away from King Tyr the way Commander Garret could do. No, he—
Ortis was one of the Plains Folk. That made him a threat.
The Plains Folk were getting ready to leave the frozen wastes north of the
Death Swamps. They had already chased away the fishmen, after using the fishmen
to harass King Tyr’s men in The Borderlands for years. Ortis wanted to go back
to them, didn’t he? “I want to find my people,” he had said. “With the fishmen
out of the Death Swamps…” Yes, Ortis was involved, but not with Hobart and
Commander Garret. He had his own motives. The Plains Folk were preparing to
attack Tyr—all of the subtle hints, all of the odd details, all of the little
loose ends shouted it out to him. Taking The Tiger’s Eye would certainly cause
enough havoc to occupy the garrison at Hellsbreath, if not half of King Tyr’s
army. The erupting volcanoes alone would be devastating, and by the time the
dwarves surfaced to make
their
attack, King Tyr’s army would be in a
shambles. And then the fishmen would come up from The Lake of Scales to swallow
up Hellsbreath. But if Commander Garret had The Tiger’s Eye….
Why is Giorge with the patrol?
he fiercely wondered
as he landed on the road.
He’s supposed to be dead! That curse was real. I
know
it was real. I saw the magic. I saw how the magic affected things. He
couldn’t
have escaped the curse, and yet, there he is!
If he was going to sort these puzzles out, Angus had to
compose himself.
Still the mind
, he thought, trying to bring the mantra
to life. But it didn’t work. He didn’t need that damned mantra to steady
himself; he needed to keep the sharp edge of his mind intact so he could catch
them in their lies. Especially Giorge’s lies. He needed to be vigilant against
Giorge’s lies if he had any hopes of thwarting their plans and saving
Hellsbreath. He
would
save Hellsbreath! And to do that, he needed to
seem
calm, as if he hadn’t figured out their plans. He couldn’t tip them off, or
they—
How did Giorge get here?
Angus wondered again.
He
couldn’t have gotten from that Haunted Plateau to Hellsbreath that quickly on
his own, and yet, he went with the patrol. What ally does he have that I can’t
see? The Banner records didn’t say anything about his return, either, and the
only way that could happen is if Commander Garret had ordered the scribe not to
record it. He’s definitely one of them. That was why Giorge had asked me all
those questions about Embril when we left to fetch the fletching eggs! He
wanted to know who his adversary was going to be! If he hurt her…
As Angus waited for the patrol to arrive, he summoned the
strands he needed for his Firecluster spell. They were strange strands, thick
with magic and very reluctant to be contained. Powerful. There were a lot of them,
just like there had been near the nexus in the Angst temple. He was close to
The Tiger’s Eye….
Firecluster was a fairly quick spell to tie, and the effect
could devastate a group packed closely together like the one he was about to
face. He smiled in what he hoped was a friendly, pleasant way as he carefully
wove together all of the knots for Firecluster. He left the last one unfinished
and struggled to keep the magic from escaping him. It
did not
want to be
cast! He also used a small part of his awareness to maintain control over the
Flying spell, in case he needed to make a sudden retreat.
The patrol stopped several yards away from him, and Giorge
and the woman separated themselves from the rest of the patrol and rode
forward. Giorge had covered his face again, but when he reined in his horse he
reached up and untucked the corner of the cloth—a piece of a saddle blanket
from the look of it—and water dripped from his fingertips. The young woman
riding with him did the same, and he was astonished by how much alike they
looked. She could be Giorge’s sister! She probably was, Angus decided. He had
never mentioned a sister, but that didn’t mean anything with Giorge. Everything
Giorge had said about the curse had been a lie, so why not that, too? What role
did she have in their plans?
Angus frowned. Giorge was surrounded by a green aura. It was
the same color as the stream of energy that had come out of The Viper’s Breath
when it had attached itself to Giorge. Had it completed the task? No. This aura
was different from those streamers. It was as if an imperfect image of Giorge
had been overlain on his skin, but it didn’t move right. It wasn’t as fluid as
the Giorge moving beneath it. Where had he seen something like that before? It
was Argyle! He had been superimposed onto something else—
someone
else.
But that magic had been a golden hue.
“Angus,” Giorge said, grinning broadly. “I thought you were
dead!”
Angus nodded and forced friendliness into his tone as he
replied, “And I was told you were dead, as well.”
Giorge chuckled and shook his head. “I was for a little
while,” he admitted, “but I got better. I’ll have to tell you about it when we
have more time. Right now, we need to get across this ledge before the lava
catches up to us.”
Where’s Embril!
Angus wanted to scream, but he held
his tongue and tried to act casually. “I need to speak to Embril, first,” he
said. “Do you know where she is?”
Giorge looked worried and shook his head. “We got
separated,” he said. “I took her to the Angst temple like she asked me to, but
Darby had gotten there first. He took The Tiger’s Eye, Angus. That’s why all
this is happening. She went after him to try to get it back. The last I saw of
her, she was a horse running north.”
He’s lying,
Angus thought.
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” Giorge offered. He
paused and feigned concern as he reached up to put the damp scrap of blanket
back over his face. “You should cover your face, Angus. We’ll be in the smoke
soon.”
Smoke?
Angus thought.
Why is that important?
For some reason, he knew it was important, but he couldn’t place why.
“Yes,” one of the masked men who had snuck up to join Giorge
said. It was the Lieutenant in charge of the patrol, and Angus instantly
disliked him. He was the man Commander Garret had chosen for this mission, and
that meant he was untrustworthy. He
wouldn’t
trust him. “The Tween
Effect is strong here.”
The Tween Effect?
Angus thought—and quickly dismissed
it. It was another trick….
“No,” Angus said, squeezing the strands of magic more
tightly. They were struggling fiercely against him, and he had nearly lost his
grip on them again. “I must know what has happened to Embril and The Tiger’s
Eye.” Would they tell him which one of them had it? It had to be with the
patrol. The lava had started flowing at the Angst temple, and it had followed
them across the plateau. The magic here was acting strangely, just as it would
if The Tiger’s Eye was nearby. Master Renard had said it drew the nexus with it
and left volcanoes erupting in its wake.