Sorcerer's Moon

by Julian May

  YOU MISUNDERSTAND, CONRIG WINCANTOR. CERTAIN GREAT STONES ARE FIT ONLY FOR GREAT PERSONS TO WIELD. THEY ARE NOT FOR THE STUPID, THE VAINGLORIOUS, OR THE VENAL – NOR ARE THEY FOR PERSONS WHO PLACE THEIR GOALS ABOVE OUR OWN. THERE ARE HUNDREDS OF DIFFERENT KINDS OF MINOR SIGILS YOUR LESSER PEOPLE MIGHT EMPOWER AND USE: LONG-SPEAKERS, HEALERS, BEAST-BIDDERS, SHAPECHANGERS, FLAME-STONES…SO MANY MORE. AND YOU WOULD BE THE ONE TO BESTOW THEM ON YOUR TALENTED ONES – AT THE APPROPRIATE TIME, OF COURSE. BUT HUMANS MUST FIRST PROVE THEMSELVES MORE WORTHY THAN THE SALKA, MORE WILLING TO…PARTICIPATE IN A CERTAIN CONTEST WE LIGHTS ESTEEM.

  ‘Can you explain your proposal further?’

  LATER. AFTER YOU, CONRIG IRONCROWN, PROVE YOURSELF TO BE TOTALLY WORTHY.

  ‘What happens now? I’ve already asked you to grant me power. Do you intend to accept my petition?’

  THASHIN AH GAV. WE ACCEPT. THE THREE GREAT STONES ARE ALIVE AND BONDED TO YOU ALREADY. CONJURING THEM WILL REQUIRE NO SALKA INCANTATION. SIMPLY COMMAND THEM TO DO YOUR BIDDING. THERE WILL BE A PROPORTIONAL PAIN-PRICE – BUT PERHAPS NOT ONE SO SEVERE AS WE HAVE DEMANDED OF OTHERS. WE WISH TO ENCOURAGE YOU.

  The Light went on to explain the functions of the different stones and their limitations. Conrig could hardly believe his good fortune. Beyond any doubt, these three sigils alone would enable him to rule the world. And the raw material for making more of them was now easily within his grasp…

  ‘Thank you, Stone-Keeper. MO TENGALAH SHERUV.’

  WE HAVE ONE LAST ADMONITION FOR YOU: DO NOT TELL THE ACCURST ONE OF OUR BARGAIN – AND DO NOT RETURN THE MOONSTONE DISK TO HIM. HE IS A DANGER TO YOU AND TO US.

  ‘Beynor may be cursed by you Lights, but he’s still a powerful sorcerer. He’ll force me to hand over the disk, retaining power over who inherits them upon my death.’

  NO, HE WILL NOT. WE HAVE BONDED THE DISK TO YOU, AS WAS DONE SEVEN HUNDRED OF YOUR YEARS AGO WITH THE ORIGINAL THREE DISKS VOUCHSAFED TO THE FIRST HUMAN TO WHOM WE PROPOSED THIS BARGAIN, ONE VRA-DARASILO LEDNOK. THAT MISERABLE COWARD! ULTIMATELY, HE WAS AFRAID TO USE THE TROVE OF SIGILS WE GAVE HIM. HE ONLY WROTE BOOKS ABOUT THEM – THE FOOL – AND WHEN HE DIED, SO DID THE BONDING OF HIS MOONSTONE DISKS. WE OFFERED DARASILO A SHORT CUT TO POWER. HE REJECTED IT. WE HOPE YOU ARE WISER.

  ‘Be assured that I am. You have given me what I longed for all my life. I’ll use the sigils well. Bonding the disk to me was a master stroke.’

  WE THOUGHT SO.

  By allowing Conrig to command the sigils in his own tongue, and making it impossible for Beynor to seize the disk, the Beaconfolk had effectively barred the Conjure-King from exerting any significant influence over the Sovereignty. Beynor no longer had any leverage to impose his will.

  Conrig said, ‘Will you allow me to return to my own world now, and fight my war?’

  YOU ARE DISMISSED…UNTIL THE TIME WE MUST

  SPEAK AGAIN. THEN WE HOPE TO HAVE AN EXCELLENT NEW HUMAN ALLY FOR YOU.

  ‘Who?’

  YOU WILL KNOW HIM WHEN YOU SEE HIM.

  The eerie face of Stone-Keeper vanished, and the king realized that his own body belonged to him again. He stood on the balcony and felt no pain. A cold breeze blew from the north and the air smelled of approaching snow – but he had the remedy for that! The finger-ring called Weathermaker glowed with subtle life on the railing, as did the equally useful Ice-Master sigil lying beside it.

  But the Great Stone that Conrig most coveted was safe in his hand: Destroyer, the key to victory against the invading monsters. He lifted the fragile wand, wondering if he dared to test it.

  Not here, he thought with a smile. Inside, while that whoreson Beynor watches!

  He put the disk and the sigils into their pouch and re-entered the solar. Beynor looked up, his gaunt face without expression. ‘And so, my liege, have you empowered the sigils?’

  ‘Didn’t you scry me through the doorway – or overhear my conversation with the Light?’

  ‘I could perceive nothing,’ the Conjure-King replied coldly. ‘Indeed, I feared you’d been snatched away in some tragic uncanny mishap. I attempted to go to your aid…but your sons restrained me.’

  Bram and Coro stood on either side of the sorcerer. The Prince Heritor held a drawn broadsword and the novice had the reliquary lifted high in both hands.

  ‘I invoked the “All Harmful Spells Avaunt” command, Father,’ Bramlow said, ‘and Coro restrained the Conjure-King physically.’

  ‘Good lads,’ the king said. ‘You may stand down now. His Majesty means me no harm.’

  ‘Certainly not,’ Beynor said easily. But his fists were tightly clenched at his sides.

  ‘Father, the sigils –’ Bramlow ventured.

  Conrig strode to the table. One by one he took the three small carvings from the pouch and laid them out. The princes gave cries of awe.

  ‘They glow. They’re alive!’ Corodon exclaimed, extending his hand.

  ‘No!’ Conrig shouted, seizing the lad’s wrist. ‘Touch a living sigil that’s not bonded to you without the owner’s permission and it will kill you.’

  The Prince Heritor staggered back. ‘I didn’t mean –’

  ‘I know. It’s all right…and I have one more piece of moonstone to show you.’ He extracted the shining disk from the pouch and held it up for Beynor to see. ‘A special favor was granted to me. This empowering disk, which summons the guardian Light when touched to an inactive sigil, is now also bonded to me. No one else may control it.’

  ‘No!’ Beynor cried. ‘The Lights wouldn’t do that!’

  ‘But they did,’ the king said. ‘It seems that they don’t trust you, Conjure-King. I was commanded not to give the disk to you.’

  ‘But, my liege! You will still need my help to use the sigils safely, and you swore –’

  ‘The oath is void. The Light who talked to me explained how each sigil works. Furthermore, I am allowed to conjure their power using my own language – not that of the Salka.’

  ‘Would you care to prove that, my liege?’ The question was insolently delivered, but Conrig only gave a gracious nod.

  ‘Baron Jordus Direwold has an appalling taste in silver hollow ware, don’t you think? That ewer is particularly ugly. And the ale is sour.’ The king pointed the moonstone wand at the container. ‘Destroyer, obliterate that thing, but harm nothing else.’

  There was a sharp explosion. A cloud of luminous green steam with a pungent odor bloomed, then dissipated to nothing. The two wolfhounds sprang to their feet and began to howl their hearts out.

  Conrig laughed. After a shocked instant, the princes joined in.

  Beynor made a sharp gesture that quieted the dogs. Then he spoke in a strained voice. ‘Do you mean to say that you are repudiating our agreement to use the sigils to mutual advantage?’

  ‘Not at all.’ The Sovereign began to gather the moonstones and put them into the pouch. ‘You shall have the throne of Moss, as you requested, but I no longer require your services as a royal adviser. You and your crony must leave this camp tomorrow at dawn. Horses will be placed at your disposal. Go to eastern Didion. Find your former subjects who have settled around Incayo and the adjacent towns. Ingratiate yourself so they will accept you as their leader.’

  ‘That will be difficult –’

  ‘Hardly. The Mossland expatriates are poverty-stricken, while you are well-supplied with treasure, are you not? It was reported to me that the material assets of Didion’s late Lord Chancellor disappeared on the night he died. Kilian’s two elder henchmen, the likeliest suspects in the theft, fled from Boarsden. Shortly afterward, Garon Curtling also disappeared. The bodies of the older men were found in a tavern privy near Twicken, and Garon returned to the castle and was taken into your service. Need I go on?’

  Beynor said nothing.

  ‘So long as you continue to render fealty to me, I’ll support your claim to Moss’s throne. In time, the Salka will be cast out of your country. The Sovereignty will assist all of its loyal vassals to rebuild towns laid waste by the mo
nsters. Will you be one of those vassals?’

  For an instant, black fury glared from the eyes of the thwarted sorcerer. Then he bowed his head. ‘I will, my liege.’ Until there is a new Sovereign more amenable to my persuasion.

  ‘Very good. Now you may go.’

  The Conjure-King turned and went out the door without another word, closing it behind him.

  Conrig tucked the pouch of sigils into his wallet. ‘My boys, sit with me for a few minutes. Then we all must go to bed, for the army marches to Tarn on the morrow to meet the foe. But I want to share my great vision of the future with you now, so that you may dream of how the wondrous events upcoming will affect your own lives. What I have obtained tonight from the Beaconfolk is more than the means for victory over the Salka. So very much more!’

  Grinning in eager anticipation, Bramlow and Corodon seated themselves and listened to what their royal father planned to do. By the time Conrig had explained, the smiles of the two young men had gone glassy.

  ‘You do see how the scheme comes to full fruition, don’t you?’ Conrig said. ‘The key is Ice-Master, the sigil we thought was the least significant of the three. But that’s because Beynor didn’t understand its function. The Light named Stone-Keeper told me that the sigil not only freezes – it also thaws. Even if the summit of Demon Seat is once again shrouded in winter’s ice and snow, the sigil can melt it and make the raw mineral available to us. Think what this means, lads. Just think of it!’

  The princes could only stare at him, speechless.

  ‘I can see you’re both overwhelmed,’ Conrig said kindly. ‘And no wonder. We’ll talk about this later, when you’ve had time to take it all in. Goodnight, my dear sons. Sleep well.’

  They nodded, saying together, ‘And you, too, sire.’

  As the brothers went to the chamber that they shared, Coro finally found his tongue and began to chatter giddily about the glorious scope of the Sovereign’s vision.

  Bramlow cut him off. ‘Be silent! Don’t you understand what’s happened to Father? Are you a complete idiot?’

  ‘Look here, you’ve no cause to speak to me like that!’ the Heritor blustered. ‘What the hell do you mean? A miracle has occurred and you act like it’s some terrible disaster –’

  Bramlow broke in. ‘The Beaconfolk threw out an irresistible lure and Father swallowed it! They gave him power, Coro. Power that will give them control over him. But the Lights don’t only want the High King. They want all of us.’

  Deep beneath the permanent Ice of the Barren Lands, the One Denied the Sky groaned in ineffable sorrow.

  ‘He has fallen. I knew it must happen, but how bitter is the actuality! Ironcrown will bring about his own ruin…but will the rest of humanity on the island also perish? Tell me, my friends!’

  We see only paradox, said the Likeminded, and no clear inkling of the outcome. But the Conflict in the Sky Realm has now begun. We must all be vigilant – whatever happens on the Ground.

  ‘Nevertheless,’ the Source said, ‘I think I must attempt one last intervention, using the groundling soul called Snudge.’

  Conjure-King Beynor lay rigid in his narrow bed, ranging on the wind in search of Deveron Austrey’s dream. It took him half the night to find it, and more hours to gain entry, for the wild-talented one had greatly matured and his mental barriers were much stronger than they had been in earlier years.

  Appealing to the former intelligencer was an act of utter desperation on Beynor’s part. He was loath to admit it to himself, but he could think of no easy way to kill Conrig and thus regain control of the sigils and the disk. Not with Bazekoy’s blue pearl once again safeguarding the king from malignant sorcery, and the companies of magickers and guards armed to the teeth who would henceforth defend the royal person from physical assault.

  There was also the most sinister realization of all: that Conrig Wincantor was clearly the Chosen of the Lights. Even if Beynor were able to kill the Sovereign, the Beaconfolk might then slay him in retaliation.

  Another would have to do it. One with the ability to penetrate Conrig’s various defenses, who might yet be willing to strike a bargain.

  The only person who came to mind – improbably, but that was the irony of it! – was the former Royal Intelligencer. Deveron Austrey must certainly be bent upon vengeance against his former master. Why else had he suddenly emerged from hiding after sixteen years? Beynor thought it likely that Deveron had instigated the failed assassination attempt at Rockyford, and he had once wielded sigils. Perhaps he might be tempted to regain the power he had evidently lost. The gamble was a risky one, but it had to be chanced…

  He invaded the ex-intelligencer’s dream, using his unique natural talent, and laid out the facts of the situation, showing in detail how the death of Conrig Wincantor might redound to their mutual advantage.

  When you wake, Deveron, you might think this dream was only fancy. In this you would be wrong. Bespeak me on the wind tomorrow and we’ll arrange a place to meet. I’ll be traveling on horseback, southbound on the Wold Road from Castle Direwold with a friend. Conrig has commanded me to return to my own exiled people, thinking he has no more need of my services. He has no notion of the Beaconfolk’s plan for the subjugation of the human race. My ancestor Rothbannon was able to outwit the Lights and prosper. Together, you and I can do the same.

  ‘You’ve misjudged me, Conjure-King.’

  I don’t think so. Do you deny you returned to Blenholme to take revenge on Conrig? Do you deny you organized the failed attempt at assassination? I know you were prowling about the station that night!

  ‘You know nothing about me or my intentions. Nothing! And you’re a fool to think I’d ally with you in an attempt to take control of the High King’s sigils through murder. In fact, I intend to notify his alchymical advisers of your evil scheme, so they can protect him.’

  …I see.

  ‘I’ll guard my dreams more efficiently from now on, Beynor. Don’t bother trying to invade them again. My answer to you will always be NO.’

  Then perhaps we’ll meet again someday in hell, Deveron Austrey. May you arrive sooner than I.

  Prince Corodon woke with a startled shout, leapt from his bed, and began to shake his brother’s shoulder. ‘Bram! Bram! Wake up!’

  The novice, who had spent most of the night wallowing in sleepless dread, was slow to rouse. Seeing in the dark was not one of his stronger powers, but there was minimal light from a few living embers in the fireplace. ‘Coro? It’s not even dawn –’

  ‘Bram, I heard Orry! He spoke to me, clear as a bell, whilst I was half-dozing.’

  ‘Codswallop. You were dreaming.’

  ‘No, listen! I think he talked to me on the wind. You know as well as I do that I’ve got some sort of puny talent. Suppose Orry has it, too? And what he told me…Bram, he said the Salka are invading at Terminal Bay in Didion! He said they used sorcery to sink the ship he and Nyla and her mother were on. They also knocked down a tall rock pillar at the entrance to the bay.’

  Bramlow groaned. ‘The good Lights told me the monsters are coming ashore in Tarn, at the Firth of Gayle, not in Didion. Go away!’ He pulled his pillow over his head.

  Corodon ripped the pillow off his brother and flung it onto the floor. ‘What if the sighting in Tarn is some sort of a ruse?’

  Bram pulled himself up onto his elbows. ‘What am I supposed to do? Run and tell the other magickers that you can hear windspeech? Reveal that you’re ineligible to sit Cathra’s throne?’

  The Prince Heritor was taken aback only for a moment. ‘Tell Father! Say that you received the windspoken message from – from some dying person on Orry’s ship. Or from the demons themselves! That might convince him to order the Brothers to do a windsearch of Terminal Bay. Perhaps they’ll see the broken rock pillar, if nothing else. Bram, for God’s sake! You have to do this.’

  ‘Right. And when all comes to nothing, then I’m a silly ass who took a nightmare seriously.’

  ‘But –’
>
  ‘No, dammit, no!’ Bram shouted. ‘Stop pestering me and let me sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the Tarnian Grand Shaman and ask him to scry the bay as a special favor to me before we march out. Perhaps he will. Now hand me my pillow and go back to bed before I perform some magic that we’ll both regret.’

  Corodon did as he was told. ‘I did hear Orry’s voice,’ he muttered, slouching back to his own cot. ‘I didn’t imagine it and I didn’t dream it.’ He threw himself down, hauled the blankets to his chin, and lay there sleepless, staring into the dark.

  Vra-Bramlow’s robe, hanging from a wall peg, was made of heavy wool, and there were many folds of cloth covering the inner pocket where the two lumps of moonstone were hidden. So neither prince noticed when they began to shine with a pulsating greenish glow.

  NINETEEN

  The dinghy pulled up at the quay in Karum Port in the hour before dawn. The place was oddly silent and deserted, with small boats of all kinds tied at sagging docks and seven tall-masted corsairs moored in deep water. Only a few of the waterfront buildings had lighted windows, but flame-pots lined the battlements of the clifftop castle that reared up against the wan pink sky.

  Little Klagus dropped the sail while Ree neatly guided the craft to the landing. Orrion jumped ashore and helped the boy tie up. Roused from sleep, the two women emerged from beneath the worn and filthy blanket that had sheltered them and peered about uncertainly in the half-light.

  ‘Orrion, have we arrived?’ Nyla asked.

  ‘Yes, love. I’ll help you to disembark.’

  Ree held out her hand to him. ‘The fare first,’ she demanded.

  He smiled. ‘Well done. Here are the three silver pennies I promised. Will you have your meal right away, or after you unload your fish?’

  ‘After,’ the girl said, shooting a look at her brother, who had probably been about to say something else. ‘We’uns’ll hafta wake up t’fishmonger. Market not be open yet. But tavern lights’re on, so ye can go feed yer faces.’ She pointed the way.