Sorcerer's Moon

by Julian May

  ‘No,’ said Conrig Ironcrown softly. ‘If I accept him, then his erstwhile subjects must!’ He turned to the duke, who still carried Beynor’s Sword of State. ‘My lord, give the great blade to me.’

  ‘Sire.’ Ranwing handed it over.

  Conrig flourished the glittering weapon. Admiring murmurs came from the assemblage. To Beynor, he said, ‘Kneel!’ And then: ‘Do you vow fealty to the benevolent Sovereignty of High Blenholme and accept its High King, Conrig Wincantor, as your liege lord?’

  ‘I do.’

  Conrig tapped the kneeling sorcerer on each shoulder with the flat of the blade. ‘Inasmuch as a former ruler of Moss has already acknowledged vassalage in the Sovereignty, it pleases me to affirm you, Beynor ash Linndal, as lawful Conjure-King of that nation, which is now occupied by Salka invaders. In the fullness of time, the Sovereignty will see these vile interlopers vanquished and cast out of Moss. On that happy day, when you return to your kingdom in triumph, may you reign justly and prosperously.’ There was a brief patter of applause. ‘You may rise.’

  Beynor climbed to his feet and accepted the return of his sword, which he sheathed with care. Both Conrig and Somarus embraced him with a certain reserve, after which the High King said, ‘We’re having a feast tonight. The betrothal of my son to Somarus’s daughter. Do you want to come?’

  A polite nod. ‘It would be an honor and a pleasure, my liege.’

  ‘You should know that it’s our custom to come unarmed to formal dinners,’ Conrig said, ‘save for personal table-cutlery. You should also know that the incantation pronounced earlier by Lord Stergos will continue to nullify any harmful sorcery you may be tempted to use.’

  ‘I understand.’ Beynor was perfectly at ease. ‘Please accept my heartfelt assurance that I come here in peace.’

  ‘Most gratifying.’ Ironcrown then raised his voice, silencing the murmuring throng of alchymists and knights. ‘This audience is now at an end. My lord duke, your men will form a guard of honor for our new royal guest. Let them make certain that His Majesty the Conjure-King is well accommodated. My Royal Alchymist, Lord Stergos, will join them to escort King Beynor to the betrothal ceremony at the proper hour.’

  Boarsden smote his breastplate in salute, formed up the knights with a sweeping gesture of command, and led Beynor out of the room.

  When they were gone, Conrig beckoned to Stergos, speaking low. ‘You’re certain that Mossbelly villain will be unable to harm any of us with sorcery?’

  The alchymist opened the precious reliquary and gave his royal brother another glimpse of Bazekoy’s blue pearl. ‘This is the most powerful quencher of evil spells in Saint Zeth’s arsenal. You may recall how it defeated our treasonous Uncle Kilian when we came to arrest him. The pearl has limitations, of course, which I didn’t think fit to mention to Beynor. But so long as he remains within these castle walls, he can perform no sorcery with a purpose that is manifestly evil.’

  The High King laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘I’ll rely on you to keep a close eye on him, Gossy – especially at the betrothal feast tonight. I’ll have other things on my mind.’

  ‘As to that, Prince Heritor Orrion has arrived at the castle. He begs permission to confer briefly with you.’

  ‘God’s Teeth! If he thinks to plead with me to change my decision at this late hour –’

  ‘That’s not what’s on his mind at all,’ Stergos said in a soothing tone. ‘Talk to him, Con. It’s very important.’

  ‘I’ll give him fifteen minutes,’ the king said ungraciously. ‘And now I’ll thank you to leave me alone so I can sort out my thoughts.’ He jerked a thumb at the throng of Zeth Brethren, who were still engaged in animated discussion of Beynor’s reinstatement. ‘And take this lot of jabbering magickers along with you!’

  Far to the north, where the Beacon River flowed into the Icebear Channel separating High Blenholme Island from the Barren Lands, the retreating army of the Salka emerged from the river delta into the sea and split into two divergent columns of swimmers.

  The first and smaller contingent turned eastward, staying near the surface and close to the rugged Didion coast with little attempt at concealment. As the great amphibians traveled, they greedily snapped up the saltwater fishes that had been missing from their diet during their tedious inland sojourn, littering the surface of the water with leftover bits of flesh that attracted hovering flocks of noisy seabirds.

  The second group, which outnumbered the first by over two hundred to one, swam more rapidly and stayed deep beneath the waves. After heading directly north into open waters for nearly fifty leagues, with keen-talented rangers patrolling the route and warning of predatory animals or human ships, these Salka altered their course in a westerly direction toward the Lavalands Peninsula, the first leg in their long journey to Terminal Bay.

  They swam steadily but without undue haste and expected to arrive at their destination within two weeks…or less.

  EIGHT

  The three princes waited for Stergos to return to his rooms. They had no idea why the alchymist had been summoned so suddenly by the High King, save that it had nothing to do with them.

  Orrion had rewrapped the end of his truncated arm in bandages in preparation for the hoped-for audience with his father. He stood apart from the others, staring out of the solarium window and wondering whether he would ever see Nyla again. Vra-Bramlow sat at the round table with Corodon, studying his brother’s moonstone souvenir with his deep-scrying windtalent.

  ‘I detect nothing remarkable about this rock of yours,’ the novice Brother said. ‘It’s not even flawless.’

  ‘The chunks and slabs of the stuff that formed the Demon Seat throne weren’t flawless, either,’ Coro reminded him, ‘yet they glowed with a weird radiance and summoned the Lords of the Sky readily enough when Orry touched them. I’ll wager this bit of mineral could do the same.’

  ‘If you think to do silly experiments with it,’ Bram said matter-of-factly, ‘then give up your hope of being Prince Heritor, and be prepared to look up from the Hell of Ice to see Dyfrig Beorbrook named heir to the throne – or else our depraved cousin Feribor Blackhorse, if young Dyfrig is unable to keep him at bay! The moonstone sigils have killed persons who make frivolous requests. Conjure-Queen Ullanoth died merely because she used sigil sorcery too often. Her mother Taspiroth was tortured to death and sent to hell for misusing one of the stones – no one knows how! The Beaconfolk won’t stand being trifled with.’

  ‘I’d never trifle in matters concerning my future crown.’ Corodon picked up the mineral, wrapped it again in his kerchief, and put it away. ‘I’m not such a fool as you may think.’

  ‘Just remember that the demons ask a terrible price for their magical favors, little brother. Be sure you’re willing to pay it.’

  The younger prince cocked his handsome head. ‘I could ask the price first, then decide whether the favor was worth it. Orry was satisfied with his bargain!’

  The novice shook his head. ‘Coro, you’re talking like a child. How can I make you understand –’

  The door to the solar opened and the Royal Alchymist entered. ‘Nephews, I’ve just come from the Sovereign’s chambers. Something quite bizarre just happened. Conjure-King Beynor of Moss has reappeared after dropping out of sight for nearly two decades. He came to the gate of Boarsden Castle, cool as a dill pickle, and declared himself. Both your father and King Somarus decided to accept him as legitimate after putting him to the test.’

  The princes began to ask excited questions.

  Stergos waved his hand to silence them and addressed himself to Orrion. ‘The High King will be greatly distracted as he considers the implications of this event. We may hope that his anger towards you will be diminished as a consequence. Come along with me now, lad. I’ve told your father that you wish to discuss a weighty matter but said little else. He agreed to see you’ – the alchymist’s shrug was apologetic – ‘for a quarter of an hour.’

  Prince Orrion burst i
nto bitter laughter. ‘I suppose it’s plenty of time for him to decide whether I’ll live or die!’

  Bramlow said, ‘And what about Coro and me? We’d hoped to stand at our brother’s side, since we share a portion of the blame –’

  ‘Speak for yourself, Bram,’ Corodon said. ‘I wasn’t the one who told Orry about Demon Seat in the first place.’

  ‘No,’ the novice shot back, ‘you only goaded him to climb the mountain, implying that he’d be craven and unworthy of Lady Nyla if he held back!’

  Orrion’s face had gone pale. ‘Brothers, don’t quarrel. I must confront Father by myself – and I intend to maintain that you two were in no way at fault, that you even tried to prevent me from committing the folly that deprives me of the throne. I can say nothing else. Your reputations and your future must not be jeopardized by my misfortune. Coro will be king one day – and you, Bram, might serve as his Royal Alchymist and privy counselor.’

  Stergos addressed the pair with unexpected formality. ‘Vra-Bramlow, Prince Corodon, you will both stay in this room until you’re sent for. And you’d do well to pray harder than ever before in your foolish young lives.’

  When the Prince Heritor and the Royal Alchymist arrived at the Sovereign’s apartment and were admitted by the Lord of Chamber, they found Conrig in his dressing room attended by two valets, a barber, and his confidential secretary, Mullan Overgard. The High King was simultaneously having his fingernails buffed, trying on different pairs of ornate footgear, getting his beard trimmed, and dictating an edict which restored to Beynor the dominion, authority, and regal honors attending the Conjure-Kingship of Moss.

  “Pursuant to the above, I hereby command all persons residing within that nation or claiming citizenship therein to render promptly to Beynor ash Linndal the oath of fealty”…et cetera, et cetera. But there’s to be nothing in this edict about renewing the annual stipend we paid to the late Queen Ullanoth. Let Beynor finance his own comeback.’

  Lord Mullan stifled a chuckle. ‘As you please, sire.’

  Conrig caught sight of the arrivals. ‘Finish the thing properly and have the scribes use plenty of illuminated initial letters with gold flourishes when they draw it up. I’ll sign and seal it tomorrow. The damned edict is only pro forma anyhow, since the Salka monsters own Moss down to the last frog, bog, and quagmire. But it’ll make Beynor happy and it might impress the expatriate Mossbellies over in the Thorn Estuary.’

  The secretary stoppered his ink bottle and began to pack up his small portable desk. ‘I’ll have it ready, Your Grace, along with the other relevant documents.’

  Conrig said, ‘Good.’ He eyed his son with a certain wariness. ‘Do you require complete privacy for this discussion, Orrion?’

  The prince said, ‘If you please, sire. Except for my dear Uncle Stergos, who is here only out of kindness.’

  The Lord of Chamber herded everyone else from the room and then withdrew himself, closing the door.

  ‘Fifteen minutes,’ Conrig declared, pointing to a graduated hourglass on the dressing table. He picked up a silver-gilt hand-mirror and began to smooth the fair hairs of his moustache. ‘And I warn you, Orry, I don’t care a mouse-turd for wild rumors about Princess Hyndry and Count Egonus Cuva and the other men she’s supposedly bedded. You and she must marry whether or not –’

  ‘Father.’ The prince let his cloak fall to the floor, took off his doublet, and thrust forth his right arm with the shirt-sleeve pushed above the elbow. The stump was neatly bandaged but the nature of the injury was all too obvious. ‘I have suffered this grievous wound through my own fault, losing my sword hand and most of the lower forearm.’

  The High King leapt to his feet and dropped the mirror with a loud cry. The glass shattered on the oaken floor, flinging bright shards in all directions, but Conrig seemed not to notice. His body had gone rigid and the blood drained from his countenance. After an interval of silence, he whispered, ‘How?’

  Orrion spoke as calmly as he could. ‘As my brothers and I made our way northward from Cala Blenholme with our companions, we undertook a side-trip to Swan Lake to try the new style of fishing. Then I decided to climb one of the nearby mountains for the fun of it. Bram and Coro came with me, albeit with reluctance, but the rest of our friends remained behind. There was a rockslide and I took a bad fall. My lower arm and right hand were crushed beneath a great boulder. It seemed I would bleed to death where I lay. But Bram did what was necessary to free me. His healing talent and medical skill saved my life…for what’s it’s worth.’

  Conrig said nothing. He had closed his eyes and stood unmoving with both fists clenched.

  Orrion continued. ‘I realize that my injury renders me incapable of ever leading our armies in battle. I can no longer be Prince Heritor of Cathra. With your gracious permission I will relinquish this honor to my twin brother Corodon, who – who is worthy to assume it.’

  ‘Coro?’ The king’s harsh voice was incredulous as he emerged abruptly from his state of shock, dark eyes blazing with fury. ‘Coro?’ he shouted at the top of his lungs. ‘That scapegrace inherit my Iron Crown?’

  Orrion pressed on doggedly. ‘As for myself, I accept whatever penalty you think my foolishness deserves. My liege – dear Father – I ask for your mercy.’

  With head bowed, the prince sank to his knees, oblivious of the bits of broken mirror that sliced through the thin leather of his riding habit like tiny knives.

  He waited.

  When Conrig finally spoke, it was as though each word were forced from his throat. ‘I sentence you to death/

  ‘Oh, no!’ Stergos cried in anguish. ‘You can’t –’

  ‘Silence!’ the king bellowed. ‘You have nothing to say in this matter. Brother!’

  Orrion lifted his head. He was calm and his eyes were dry. ‘I deserve the penalty. Father, and I accept your judgment.’

  Conrig’s gaze shifted from the face of his son. ‘Who else knows of this injury besides your brothers and Lord Stergos? Your Heart Companions?’

  ‘Nay, sire. Because of the portentous nature of the wound, and my desire that news of it should not be spread abroad prematurely, I took care to conceal its true gravity from the men of my retinue and Coro’s as well. They know the arm was hurt, but not that the hand was lost. I kept the stump well concealed – first in heavy bandages and later in a padded gauntlet and sling. On our journey from Swan Lake to Boarsden, we were careful not to stop at any place where officious Brothers of Zeth would demand to examine me.’

  ‘Hmm. So no one else knows…’

  Orrion hesitated. ‘May I beg to know when my life will be forfeit, sire?’

  ‘I suspend your sentence of death,’ Ironcrown said. ‘Instead I intend to banish you from my presence for as long as it pleases me. I’ll decide later where you shall go.’

  ‘Thank you! I –’

  ‘Be still, damn you! This rash action of yours may have wrecked a delicately wrought stratagem of mine. A plan of supreme importance! If King Somarus now refuses to give the hand of his daughter to Corodon – and Zeth knows the fat bastard was already reluctant to have her wed you – the longterm prospects for Didion’s allegiance to the Sovereignty are put at terrible risk. As is my own grand plan for the expansion of our hegemony to the Continent once the Salka threat is dealt with.’

  Orrion was unable to conceal his surprise, but he made no comment. The Royal Alchymist could not help but murmur, ‘Great Zeth, Con! You still dream of empire?’

  Conrig turned to his older brother, pretending not to have heard the words of reproof. ‘Tell me, Gossy: do you think Somarus will accept madcap Coro in place of this more worthy twin?’

  ‘The dynastic advantage is the same,’ Stergos replied stiffly. ‘But we both know that the ultimate decision rests not with Didion’s king but with his puppetmaster Kilian. Who may well prefer a royal son-in-law of Corodon’s…special disposition.’

  Conrig uttered a hollow laugh. ‘You mean a malleable young idiot! Well, we’ll find
out at tonight’s feast, won’t we?’

  Orrion ventured to say, ‘I presume you would prefer me to absent myself, sire.’

  ‘On the contrary. You will attend, as will both of your brothers, and this is what I expect you to do.’ He explained in detail. ‘Have I made myself clear?’

  ‘Yes, sire.’ The prince paused, thinking: Shall I tell him about Nyla? If I hold back and he learns that she and her parents are staying at Castlemont awaiting news of my fate, he might suspect that I contrived the injury!

  ‘Get to your feet, boy,’ the king ordered. ‘You are dismissed. Go with your brothers to the suite of rooms prepared for you. Be sure to do exactly as I’ve commanded this evening – or I’ll rethink my decision about your fate.’

  Orrion could not help but flinch with pain as he rose. Flesh wounds from the broken mirror leaked blood through the knees of his trews and caused kindly Stergos to give a cry of consternation. Conrig looked away, grimacing in disgust.

  ‘Truly, Uncle, the cuts are less severe than they seem,’ the prince said. ‘Don’t be concerned.’ And after taking a breath, he said to the High King: ‘Sire, you inquired if any other person knew of the loss of my hand. I have not yet answered. There is only one more who knows, and she is Lady Nyla Brackenfield, the woman I once hoped to marry.’

  Conrig whirled about with a curse, but Orrion continued resolutely.

  As my companions and I traveled down the road from Great Pass, we chanced to meet Nyla and her parents at a hostelry. I confess that I revealed the amputation to her. You see…I had to know whether she could still love a one-armed man.’

  Conrig’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘So! And what did the lady say?’

  ‘That her heart was steadfast. And if in your mercy you would allow me to live, she would willingly be my wife. I am to send word to her –’

  ‘Where is she?’ the king demanded.

  ‘Lodged at Castlemont Fortress with her parents.’

  ‘I’m gratified that you saw fit to tell me about her,’ Conrig said in a voice of ice, ‘even if somewhat belatedly.’ He turned to Stergos. ‘With changes of horse there’s still plenty of time for the Brackenfields to get here in time for the betrothal feast. Gossy, bespeak the Boarsden wizards and have them pass on my command to the Lord Lieutenant and his family at Castlemont. They are to attend us tonight.’