by Andre Norton
The Alizonder gazed intently at each of us in turn, then made a graceful gesture, touching his House badge. “I am honored to speak in such a company,” he said.
“These are troubling questions about Escore,” mused Ouen. “Morfew, did you not some time ago examine our archives seeking information concerning Escore?”
“So I did, Master Ouen.” The old scholar rubbed his hands together, a habit he indulged, I had noticed, whenever he saw an opportunity to share the fruits of his inquiries. “Kemoc Tregarth came here five years ago to search for lore about the east. In assisting him, I discovered that a thousand years before, the virulent Dark forces in Escore overpowered those of the Light. As they fled for their lives, the remnant of the Light’s forces worked a great magic spell to raise a wall of mountains to impede all further access to Escore. At the same time, they set a block in the minds of the Old Race to prevent any thought of the eastern direction. From those displaced Old Race folk arose the Witches of Estcarp. Only since the recent Turning of the earth—a Second Turning, one might say—has the Old Race again become able to think of or indeed travel to the east.”
Morfew paused to reflect, then resumed, “I can recall only one incident regarding encounters with Escorian mages in Estcarp. Immediately after the Turning, when traveling far to the southwest, Nolar was captured by a Dark mage released by those very earthquakes from a binding spell set upon him at the time of the First Turning. Fortunately, that single, dangerous echo from ancient Escore was banished by the assistance of a Witch and certain localized powers. Your questions, however, imply some present threat. Do you bring us warning of evil stirring even now in Escore?”
Kasarian had listened intently, sitting motionless except for the fingers of his right hand, which rhythmically turned his gold signet ring. When Morfew posed his question, Kasarian spread both hands flat on the table. His fingers were long and supple, and I had observed from walking behind him how quickly and surely he moved. I suspected he would be a deadly opponent with sword or knife.
“I can tell you no names of Escore’s mages,” he admitted frankly, “but I have reason to believe that intense efforts are being made by a certain faction in Alizon to forge an alliance with such Dark forces. The roots of this treason stretch back to the time of the Kolder’s initial meddling. The alliance that Lord Baron Facellian formed with the Kolder over twenty years ago was a disaster for Alizon. The Kolder sought dominion over the Dales, but contrived to spend our fighters’ blood to obtain their desire. After inciting us to invade the Dales, they then abandoned us, failing to supply the vital aid they had promised. Well before the last of our invading Hounds were stranded across the sea and wiped out, it was apparent that the war was lost. Lords Baron of Alizon do not lose wars and survive. Mallandor took the throne. . . .”
Kasarian broke off to refresh himself with more ale. My thoughts were clamoring—it was as well that I had no voice, or I would have screamed at him. I clutched my staff until my knuckles ached. That he should dismiss so coolly the torment that Alizon had inflicted upon our Dales! And yet . . . I had never before considered how Alizon must have reacted when their Kolder alliance had failed them so miserably. With their fighting ships and trade ships, the blessed Sulcar had harried Alizon’s coast, and intercepted the Alizonders’ ships, thus contributing to the Kolder’s inability to supply the invaders. Suddenly, I could understand why Alizon’s version of those frantic years would require excuses as well as revenge for what they had to view as a sure victory snatched away from them. When Kasarian resumed his tale, I forced my fingers to relax their grip on my staff.
“There remained yet a few of the cursed Kolder in Alizon City,” Kasarian continued. “They bided their time, strengthening their ties with certain of our barons, and attempting to gain access to Lord Baron Mallandor’s ear. Three years ago, the faction favoring the Kolder persuaded Mallandor that an energetic effort must be made to bring new Kolder forces to Alizon by means of a Gate to be opened by magic. It was proposed that unguarded Witch pups could be brought from Estcarp to provide the Power needed for the Kolder’s Gate spell.”
Jonja seized her goblet so fiercely that I feared she would snap its stem. “We were told of that horrid raid,” she said, her voice shaking. “It was an evil affront to all of Estcarp.”
Kasarian nodded calmly. “I was opposed to the tactic from its first suggestion,” he said. “The ill-advised ploy failed disastrously, as I had suspected it would, leaving all of the Kolder dead. The Witchlings escaped, fleeing back into Estcarp. Another faction, headed by Baron Gurborian, then argued that Alizon should forget the Kolder and employ a bold new strategy. Gurborian’s chief henchman, Gratch from blighted Gorm, suggested that we could sweep away our enemies with assistance from other and closer sources. Through inquiries, he had identified certain lower-level mages in the mountains between Alizon and Escore. Gurborian endorsed Gratch’s plan to seek a linkage with the Dark forces still to be found in Escore. With the might of Escore’s Dark mages employed on Alizon’s behalf, he asserted that Alizon could occupy all of the lands west of the mountains—Estcarp, Karsten, as far south as we cared to extend.”
“And just what would these Dark mages of Escore gain from such an alliance with Alizon?” asked Morfew, his hands clenched into fists.
“They would, of course, be proclaimed fully sovereign in all lands east of the mountains,” Kasarian replied.
Ouen emitted a muffled snort. “Presumably they already consider themselves sovereign in those areas they control,” he stated. “Other folk also share those lands to the east. I cannot believe that the Dark mages tremble for fear that their scattered fiefdoms are at any risk from western invasion across the mountains. As you describe Gurborian’s plan, the Dark mages would gain only a gilding of words upon the already existing order of rule.”
“Yet I perceive one factor to bear in mind,” Morfew observed thoughtfully. “Such an alliance for Escore, should it result in the destruction of Estcarp, could be seen as a gratifying, if overly long-delayed revenge of sorts upon the Old Race for the ancient affront of the First Turning.”
I had been watching Duratan, whose stern expression had grown more severe throughout the discussion. “Let us consider another question for a moment,” he said in a disarmingly mild tone. “Why should a baron of Alizon openly disclose this previously unsuspected threat to Estcarp? Surely Alizon would rejoice in Estcarp’s fall, not choose to warn us in advance of any dire peril.”
Each one of us around the table regarded Kasarian warily as we awaited his explanation.
CHAPTER 8
Kasarian–events at Lormt (7th Day, Moon of the Knife /Month of the Ice Dragon)
I found this confrontation with enemies who might possibly be manipulated into temporarily useful allies to be as exhilarating as a hunt at full gallop after the split-tusked boar . . . yet I was keenly aware that I was treading upon a sword’s edge. Constant vigilance was imperative, even if the enemy of one’s enemy did necessarily share some common aims. The interests of one’s Line and of Alizon itself had always to be foremost in crafting any would-be alliance.
I reasoned that these scholars at Lormt might well possess information about Escore that I could use to counter Gurborian’s efforts. It would not be advisable, however, to reveal to them that Gurborian was plotting to overthrow Lord Baron Norandor. That was purely an internal Alizonian matter, potentially hurtful should Alizon’s enemies learn of it prematurely, and turn it to their advantage.
I therefore chose my words with extreme care, emphasizing the potential danger to Estcarp should Gurborian’s faction forge an alignment with Escore’s Dark mages. The Lormt folk swiftly grasped the implications, I thought, but Duratan, their soldier, inquired why I, a presumed enemy, should warn them in advance? It was a clever question, doubtless intended to expose my motives. Fortunately, I had a ready answer, doubly impressive because it was both plausible and true.
“If Alizon must fight for territory,” I told him,
“it should be with our own strength. Alizon’s barons who hold to the methods proved successful in the past have always shunned magic, whether it was wielded by Escorians or Kolder. I assure you that the Line Sired by Krevonel has consistently opposed any reliance upon magic. This notion of Gurborian’s that Estcarp’s Witch magic can be defeated by Escore’s Dark magic is yet another false idea, worse even than our previous recourse to the Kolder’s magic. What benefits did Alizon ever gain from the Kolder? My three elder littermates were all slain in the war with the Dales. Alizon gained nothing from that Kolder-inspired slaughter except some few baubles wrested from the Dales at a deplorable cost, and rivalries among the survivors for inherited baronies.”
Another volley of thumps from the old female’s staff interrupted me. She wrote furiously on her slate, and pushed it across the table to Morfew. “You say some baubles were taken from the Dales,” Morfew read aloud. “Have you ever seen or heard of one particular jewel—an egg-sized, blue-gray stone set as a pendant on a silver chain?”
Bemused, yet startled, I thought that they could refer to only the one such stone. “Baron Gurborian was awarded a jewel of that description,” I replied cautiously. “It had been sent back from the Dales early in the invasion, and was considered to be one of the few prime treasures of the campaign.”
Although the Lormt folk’s expressions were guarded, I could see that they were keenly interested. Why should they care about old booty from the Dales . . . unless the mute female might assert some property claim?
She retrieved her slate and wrote a further message. “That pendant belonged to my family,” Morfew read aloud. “I have reason to believe that the stone may be an object of Power. Is Baron Gurborian aware of the nature of his prize?”
I was taken aback. The only stones of Power known to us were those cursed jewels wielded by Estcarp’s Witche. If Gurborian’s stone was concerned with magic, that would explain the peculiar weakness that afflicted me during and after the Baronial Assembly, when I had been in the same chamber with it . . . possibly even the dreams that assailed me later that same night. But Gurborian appeared totally unaffected, and he had been wearing the frightful object.
“No,” I told them honestly, “I do not think that Gurborian at all suspects that he possesses more than a mere jewel. We of Alizon are not . . . familiar with magical objects, and would not likely recognize that aspect unless it was revealed to us.”
Morfew stirred uneasily in his chair. “If Baron Gurborian should meet with any Escorian mages while wearing the pendant,” he fretted, “they would immediately sense the true nature of the stone.”
I slapped my hand on the table to emphasize my words. “All the greater cause,” I asserted, “to prevent Gurborian and his faction from arranging any such meeting. I do not know how this particular stone of Power might be wielded, but surely it would be vastly more perilous in the hands of Dark mages. I confide to you now my deepest fear, rendered more harrowing by this word anent Gurborian’s jewel: once the Dark mages of Escore have been enticed to cross the mountains, will they choose to retire voluntarily again behind that barrier as before? What shall Alizon do if Escore’s magic crushes Estcarp and is then directed against us?” The Lormt folk made no immediate comment, but I detected evidence of dismay in their frozen demeanor.
“I have heard this place called ‘Lormt of the Foolish Scholars,’ ” I persisted, “yet now that I behold you, I see no fools among you. It may be that lore preserved here could help me frustrate Gurborian’s efforts. Your land and mine have long considered one another enemies, yet I say to you, both Estcarp and Alizon must now beware of what may fall upon us from the east. Can we not work together to resist this threat? Will you help me search your archives for lore I can use against Gurborian?”
Although I had disturbed them, the Lormt folk showed commendable restraint. I had wondered whether the two females might cower or weep, but both preserved outward calm.
The old sire, Ouen, rose to his feet, and I also stood, along with the others. “You have given us many grave matters to ponder,” Ouen said to me. “Your questions are too vital to be answered in haste. Let us all retire now to think, and to sleep. We shall confer again on the morrow.”
The Wise Woman motioned brusquely toward the door. “I shall conduct you to a guest chamber nearby,” she said.
As I followed her, I noticed that the party remained standing. No doubt they intended to talk further after I had departed. I was not offended, for I should have done the same had we been in Alizon, our roles reversed. I turned at the door. “You honor me with your courteous attentions,” I said. “May these night hours bring us wisdom.”
To my surprise, Morfew smiled. “I have not heard that admonition since I was a pup!” he exclaimed, then he shook his head, his somber air restored. “I hope on the morrow, Kasarian, that we may have time to discuss those past events concerning my pack. It has been an equally long time,” he added, “since I have heard the words ‘blood feud.’ ”
I bowed, and touched my Line badge to him. The Wise Woman closed the door behind us.
CHAPTER 9
Mereth–events at Lormt (7th Day, Month of the Ice Dragon/ Moon of the Knife)
When Ouen bade us to retire, I struggled to my feet, my mind reeling. The thought that my betrothal jewel might be within the grasp of Escore’s Dark mages somehow chilled the very marrow of my bones. I felt almost as if Kasarian had slapped my face instead of the table when he exhorted us to prevent Gurborian from meeting with the Escorian mages. I knew within myself that we could spare no effort to thwart Gurborian and his henchman; the stone must not be lost to the Dark! I had remained standing, heedless of the quiet talk among the others at the table. Nolar took my arm and urged me to sit down.
Quite soon, Jonja returned, announcing that Kasarian was settled in his guest chamber.
Duratan shook his head ruefully. “I seldom feel that Lormt lacks proper accommodations for any guest,” he said, “but this night, I would prefer a strong lock on our visiting baron’s door, and its key in my hand.”
“If Kasarian attempts to skulk about in the dark,” Nolar commented with a smile, “he is more likely to fall down the stairs or become irretrievably lost.”
“I did warn him about the stairs,” said Jonja briskly. “And I made sure his candle was a short one. I do not think he will go far this night.”
“Nor shall we.” Ouen’s tone was grim. “Let us confer briefly before we part. What are we to make of Kasarian’s unsettling warnings?”
Duratan stared into his goblet. “How can we dare to believe anything we are told by a baron of Alizon?” he asked. “Their words are notoriously untrustworthy, and they frequently poison their own family members to advance their positions.”
I tapped my staff on the floor, and offered my slate. Morfew read aloud my words. “You are wise to be wary. We of the Dales have endured bitter experience of the Alizonders. They are a cruel, devious, and treacherous folk . . . yet we must scrutinize every word of Kasarian’s to determine which if any of them might be true. The threat he describes is too serious to be ignored.”
Morfew drummed his fingers on the table. “I have been casting my thoughts far back to my days in Alizon,” he said. “Some of the noble Lines have preserved more of what you Estcarpians would term a sense of honor than have others. As I recall, Krevonel was one such Line, although much reduced in numbers over the years by battle deaths and murders. I can speak only of the previous generations—this Kasarian is unknown to me, nor do I know his sire’s name as yet, but I shall ask him on the morrow when we speak together.”
Ouen nodded his approval. “We are indeed fortunate, old friend, that you reside among us. Kasarian may well tell you more privately than he is willing to disclose in our presence.”
“He may already have said too much to us,” Duratan suggested. “His great fear that Escore’s Dark mages, triumphant over Estcarp, might then turn to rend Alizon represents only one of the possible outcome
s of a great clash of magics. We would do well to foresee and evaluate a different outcome: if Escore’s Dark mages and our Witches should battle to mutual ruin, would not Alizon then be left to capture and hold all three lands?”
“From my knowledge of Alizon,” said Morfew, “I perceive another related point. It is likely that Kasarian also belongs to a faction of barons. Just as Gurborian’s faction is said to be pressing for an alliance with Escore’s Dark mages, so too may Kasarian’s faction be waiting to take advantage of any mistakes or reverses. Their goal may be the very seizure of any lands left vulnerable should the primary opponents dispose of one another.”
I handed my slate to Morfew. “I do not believe,” he read my words, “that Estcarp can dismiss Kasarian’s warning, however suspect he may be as its bearer. I must convey to you my intense conviction that the stone of Power must not be acquired by any forces serving the Dark!”
Both Jonja and Nolar leaned forward. The Wise Woman spoke first, her voice strained. “I know what mighty deeds can be wrought with Witch Jewels,” she said. “An unknown crystal of the size you describe, should it be imbued with Power, might be capable of loosing ruin on a scale that would make the damage of the Turning seem insignificant.”
“It is true,” Nolar declared, “that some stones of Power can be misused for ill. The Stone of Konnard was meant to aid in healing, yet the Escorian Dark mage Tull twisted its force to produce hideous results.” She broke off for a moment, unable to continue. Duratan took her hand without a word. She smiled gratefully at him. “My memories of that awful time still revive past hurts. We learned then that a Dark mage could wrest vileness from an otherwise beneficial object. Had not our Witch stood forth with her jewel, great lasting evil would have been done. As it was, Tull was destroyed, and his effect upon the Stone of Konnard was totally expunged.” Nolar looked at me. “If your jewel had been wielded by forces of the Light,” she said earnestly, “then it would likely resist being subverted. Certainly, you were not tainted by your association with it, or the crystals and runeboard would have discerned it.”