Amber and Iron

by Margaret Weis

  “And that is the very reason we must establish guidelines for how we deal with the Beloved and make our position known to the public,” said Jenna. “Wizards must be seen to be working with everyone in order to find a solution to this mystery, even if that means joining forces with priests and sorcerers and mystics.”

  “Thereby admitting that we can’t deal with it ourselves,” said a White Robe sourly. “What do you say, Mistress Coryn?”

  “I agree with Mistress Jenna. We should be open and honest about these Beloved. The problems we wizards have faced in the past came about as a result of cloaking ourselves in mystery and secrecy.”

  “Oh, I quite agree,” said Dalamar. “I say we throw open the doors of the Tower and invite the rabble to come spend the day. We can do demonstrations, set off fireballs and the like, and serve milk punch and cookies on the lawn.”

  “Be sarcastic all you like, my friend,” Jenna returned coolly. “But that won’t make this terrible situation go away. Have you anything constructive to suggest, Master of the Black Robes?”

  Dalamar was silent a moment, absently tracing a sigil on top of the table with a delicate fingers.

  “What I find most intriguing is the involvement of Mina,” he said at last.

  “Mina!” Jenna returned, astonished. “I don’t see why you find her so intriguing. The girl has no mind of her own. She was once a pawn of Takhisis. Now she’s a pawn of Chemosh. She’s merely traded one master for another.”

  “I find it intriguing that it is the mark of her lips that is burned into the flesh of these wretched creatures,” said Dalamar.

  “Please don’t doodle!” said Jenna, placing her hand over his. “The last time you did that, you burned a hole in the table. As for Mina, she is nothing more than a pretty face Chemosh uses to lure young men to their doom.”

  Dalamar rubbed out the sigil with the sleeve of his black robe. “Nevertheless, I believe that she is the key that will unlock the door to this mystery.”

  Nuitari was not surprised that his wizard’s thoughts tended in the same direction as his own. The bond between Nuitari and Dalamar was a close one. The two, god and mortal, had endured many trials together. Nuitari planned to eventually establish Dalamar as the Master of the Blood Sea Tower. Not just yet, however. Not until everything was settled with his two cousins.

  “I’ll wager you wouldn’t be so interested in Mina if she were an old hag like myself,” said Jenna, giving Dalamar’s hand a teasing slap.

  Dalamar took her hand and brought it to his lips. “You will never be an old hag, my dear. And you well know it.”

  Jenna, who did know it, smiled at him and returned to business.

  “Do you have anything to add, Mistress Coryn?”

  “Judging by the clue the Beloved gave you, the way to destroy these things will not be easily discovered by anyone—cleric, wizard, or sorcerer. I would suggest that those apprentices currently studying in the Tower be instructed to search among the old records for some mention of similar beings, particularly in regard to Chemosh.”

  “They are already at work,” said Jenna. “I have also contacted the Aesthetics and asked them to research the books in the Great Library. I do not believe that they will have much success, however. So far as I know, nothing like these Beloved have been seen upon Ansalon. Is there anything else? Any other questions?”

  Jenna cast a glance around the table. The wizards sat in gloomy silence, shaking their hooded heads.

  “Very well, then. Let us move on. The Conclave will now consider the guidelines that wizards will be required to follow if they come upon any of these Beloved. First and foremost, we must find some means of detecting them.”

  “And of protecting the innocent, who are bound to be falsely accused,” added a White Robe.

  “And of protecting ourselves, who are bound to be falsely accused,” said a Black Robe.

  “And so it seems to me …” said a Red Robe.

  Nuitari turned away. Such discussions would likely go on for hours before consensus was reached.

  “My cousins,” he said. “I would speak with you.”

  “You have our full attention, Cousin,” said Lunitari, and Solinari, coming to stand by her side, nodded his head.

  The three gods had been watching the proceedings from their heavenly plane and, despite the fact that no mortal eye could see them, each took on his or her favorite aspect. Lunitari appeared as a vivacious, red-haired woman wearing red robes trimmed in ermine and gold. Solinari took the form of a young and physically powerful man. His robes were white, trimmed in silver. Nuitari took his usual form, that of a man with a moon-round face, heavy-lidded eyes and full lips. His jet-black robes were plain and unadorned.

  Lunitari guessed immediately that something was up.

  “You have information about these Beloved, Cousin,” she said, excited. “Chemosh has said something to you.”

  Nuitari was scornful. “Chemosh is too busy strutting about being cock of the walk to talk to me. He believes he has done something quite clever. Personally, I am not all that impressed. A way will be found to destroy these shambling corpses, and that will put an end to that.”

  “Then what do you want to speak to us about?” Solinari asked.

  “I have built a Tower of High Sorcery,” said Nuitari. “My own tower.”

  His two cousins stared at him blankly.

  “What?” demanded Lunitari, unable to believe she had heard correctly.

  “I have built a Tower of High Sorcery,” Nuitari repeated. “Or rather, rebuilt an old Tower—the one that used to stand in Istar. I raised up the ruins and added a few of my own touches. The Tower is located beneath the Blood Sea. Two of my Black Robes now inhabit it. I plan to invite more wizards to move in later.”

  “You did this in secret!” Lunitari gasped. “Behind our backs!”

  “Yes,” said Nuitari. What else could he say? “I did.”

  Lunitari was furious. She lunged at him and there is no telling what she might have done, had not her cousin, Solinari, grabbed hold of her and dragged her back.

  “Down through the centuries, since the time of our birth, we three have stood shoulder-to-shoulder, side-by-side,” said Solinari, keeping fast hold of his raging cousin. “We have been united in the cause of the magic and, because of our unity, magic prospered. When your mother betrayed us, we grieved together and joined forces to try to find the world. When we did find it, we acted in concert to restore magic to it. Only to discover that you have betrayed us.”

  “Let us ask which of us is the true betrayer,” Nuitari said. “My mother, Takhisis, was deposed for her crime, made mortal, and then ignominiously slain by a mortal’s hand. Your father, Cousin Solinari, was once a god. He is now a beggar who roams Ansalon living off charity.

  Nuitari shook his head. “And what of Nuitari? My mother gone. My father, Sargonnas, the rampaging bull, is intent on his minotaur ruling Ansalon! He has driven the elves from their homeland and is now sending out shiploads of minotaur settlers. He cares nothing for me or what I am about. We all know minotaurs think little of wizards, and that includes my father.”

  His heavy-lidded eyes shifted to Lunitari. “Whereas your father, Gilean, is now the most powerful god in the heavens. Is it any coincidence that his daughter’s Red Robes run the Conclave?”

  “The balance must be maintained!” Lunitari said, still smoldering. “Let me go, Cousin. I’m not going to harm him. Though I would like to snatch his black moon from the sky and shove it up his—”

  “Peace, Cousin,” said Solinari soothingly. He turned to Nuitari. “The fact that the Red Robes are quite powerful may well be true, though I’m not saying it is,” he added as an aside with a cool glance at Lunitari. “Still, it doesn’t excuse what you did.”

  “No it doesn’t,” Nuitari admitted. “And I want to make amends. I have a proposition. One I think will be agreeable to you both.”

  “I’m listening, Cousin,” Solinari said. He seemed more grie
ved than angry.

  Lunitari indicated, with an abrupt nod, that she was also interested to hear what he had to say.

  “There are now three Towers of High Sorcery on Ansalon,” said Nuitari. “The Tower of Wayreth, the Tower of Nightlund, and my Tower in the Blood Sea. I suggest that, as it was in the days of the Kingpriest, each of the Robes be given its own Tower. The Red Robes will take control of the Tower of Wayreth. The White Robes will be ceded control of the Tower in Nightlund. My Black Robes will take over the Tower of the Blood Sea.”

  The other two gods pondered this suggestion. The Tower of Wayreth was, to all intents and purposes, under the control of the Red Robes, since Jenna was Head of the Conclave and the Tower was the Conclave’s seat of power. The Tower of Nightlund had been closed since Dalamar had been banned from it as punishment. No wizard had been permitted to enter it, precisely for the reason that the gods feared the Tower would become a bone of contention, with both Black Robes and White Robes seeking to lay claim to it.

  Nuitari had just provided a solution to the problem. Lunitari reflected on the fact that her cousin’s new Tower stood at the bottom of an ocean. It would not be easily accessible and was therefore not likely to pose much of a threat to her own power base. As for the Tower of Nightlund, it was located in the middle of one of the most deadly places on Krynn. If the White Robes did claim it, they would have to first battle their way to its threshold.

  Solinari’s thoughts on the Blood Sea Tower were much the same as those of his cousin. His thoughts on the Nightlund Tower were also similar, except he was intrigued by the possibility of restoring the accursed land that now lay languishing beneath dark shadows. If his White Robes could remove the curse that lay over Nightlund, people could live there once again and prosper. All Ansalon would be in the debt of his White Robes.

  “It’s something to consider,” said Lunitari grudgingly.

  “I would like to think it over. But I am interested,” said Solinari.

  Nuitari glanced around, as though he feared other immortal ears might be listening, then, with a gesture, he drew his cousins close.

  “I had to keep this secret,” he said. “Even from you, those whom I most trust.”

  Lunitari frowned, but she was clearly curious. “Why?”

  “The Solio Febalas—the Hall of Sacrilege.”

  “It was destroyed,” said Lunitari flatly.

  “So it was,” said Nuitari. “But the sacred artifacts inside it were not. I have them now under lock and key, guarded by a sea dragon of a particularly nasty disposition.”

  “The holy artifacts stolen by the Kingpriest,” Solinari said, amazed. “You have them?”

  “Perhaps I should say now, since we have reached this agreement between us, we have them.”

  “Do any of the other gods know of this?” Lunitari asked.

  “Chemosh is the only one and he has kept his mouth shut thus far, though it is only a matter of time before he will spread the word.”

  “The other gods would give anything to have those artifacts back!” said Lunitari exultantly. “From now on, we wizards, once reviled, will be a power in the world.”

  “Henceforth, no cleric will dare raise his hand against us,” Solinari agreed.

  The three fell silent. Nuitari was thinking that this had gone unexpectedly well, when Solinari said quietly, “You know, Cousin, that I can never again trust you in anything.”

  “Nothing will ever be the same between us again,” Lunitari lamented sadly.

  Nuitari looked from one to the other. His heavy-lidded eyes were hooded, his full lips compressed.

  “Face it, Cousins, a new age has dawned. Observe Mishakal. No longer the gentle goddess of healing, she strides through heaven wielding a sword of blue flame. Kiri-Jolith’s priests march to war. Even Majere has left off staring at his navel and involved himself in the world, though I have no idea what he is up to. Trust between us all ceased the moment my mother stole away the world. You are right, Cousin. Nothing will ever be the same. You were fools to think it could.”

  As he drew his hood up over his moon-face and left them, Nuitari wondered what they would have said if he had told them he had captured Mina.…

  asalt!” Caele accosted the dwarf as he was walking down a hallway. “Is it true the Master has left the Tower?”

  “It’s true,” Basalt replied.

  “Where has he gone?”

  “How should I know?” Basalt demanded testily. “It’s not like he asks my permission.”

  The dwarf kept walking, his hob-nailed boots ringing on the stone floor as he kicked at the hem of his robe to keep from stepping on it. Caele hastened after him.

  “Perhaps the Master has gone to deal with Chemosh,” the half-elf said hopefully.

  “Or perhaps he’s left us to face the Lord of Death on our own,” Basalt returned. He was in a grumpy mood.

  Caele blanched. “Do you think he has?”

  Basalt would have liked to have said yes, just to rattle the half-elf. He needed Caele’s help, however, so, reluctantly, he shook his head. “It’s something to do with Chemosh, but I don’t know what.”

  Caele was not reassured. He fell in alongside Basalt. “Where are you going?”

  “Coming to fetch you. Mina is to be granted freedom to walk up and down the hallway for an hour—under our supervision, of course.”

  “Under your supervision,” said Caele. He made an about-face. “I have no intention of playing nursemaid to that scheming bitch.”

  “Suit yourself,” Basalt said complacently. “When the Master returns, where shall I tell him to find you? In your room? Studying your spells?”

  Caele halted. Swearing beneath his breath, he turned around. “On second thought, I’ll come with you. I would feel badly if some terrible fate were to befall you at the hands of that woman.”

  “What do you think is likely to befall me?” Basalt demanded, bristling. “There’s not one jot or tittle of magic in her.”

  “Apparently the Master does not share your confidence, since he requested both of us be on hand to guard her—”

  “Shut up about her, will you,” Basalt growled.

  “You are scared of her!” Caele said smugly.

  “I am not. It’s just … well, if you must know, I don’t like being around her. There’s something uncanny about that female. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since the moment we mistook her for a fish and caught her in our net. By the black moon, I wish Chemosh would come and take her away, and that would be the end of her.”

  “Someone could kill her and toss her body to the sharks,” Caele suggested.

  Standing outside the door to Mina’s room, they could hear her inside, pacing.

  “We could always tell the Master she tried to escape.…”

  Basalt snorted. “And how do you plan to murder her? Cast a magic spell on her? That would work, but only if you tell her in advance exactly what you’re going to do and how it’s going to affect her! Otherwise you might as well be dancing the kender randygazoo.”

  Caele slid back the sleeve of his robe to reveal a knife strapped to his forearm. “We won’t need to tell her in advance how this would affect her.”

  Basalt eyed the knife. The thought was tempting.

  “You think Chemosh is mad at us now.…”

  “Bah! Nuitari will settle his hash.” Caele leaned nearer, spoke softer. “Perhaps this is what the Master intends for us to do! Why else would he tell us to remove her from her prison except to trick her into trying to escape. He even gave us orders on what to do if that should happen. ‘If she tries to flee, kill her.’ That’s what he said.”

  Basalt had been cudgeling his brain, trying to figure out why Nuitari had agreed to release Mina from her safe prison. Much as he hated to admit it, Caele made sense.

  “We kill her only if she tries to escape,” Basalt stated.

  “She will,” Caele predicted. His eyes glinted with bloodlust. Spittle flecked his lips.

 
“You’re a pig,” said Basalt, and he placed his hand on the door and began to chant the spell that would reverse the wizard lock.

  Inside the room, Mina halted her pacing. “The two Black Robes are coming, my lord,” she reported to Chemosh. “I can hear them walking down the corridor. Are you certain Nuitari is gone?”

  “I would not be talking to you otherwise, my love. Only Nuitari can maintain such a powerful spell around you. Does he frighten you, Mina?”

  “Nuitari does not frighten me, my lord, but he makes my skin crawl, like touching a snake or having a spider drop down my neck.”

  “All three cousins are like that. It’s the magic. Some of us warned the gods: ‘Don’t permit your children to wield such power! Keep them subservient to you!’ Takhisis would not listen, however, nor would Paladine or Gilean. It was only later, when their own children turned against them, that they began to heed our wisdom. By then, of course, it was too late. Now I have the ability to humble the cousins, take away their power, pull their fangs.”

  “How do you intend to do that, lord?” Mina asked.

  Outside her room, she could hear one of the Black Robes fumbling with the door lock.

  “Soon the world will see that wizards are helpless, impotent against my Beloved, and what will the world do? Turn from them in disgust! Even now, the wizards frantically search spell-books and scrolls and artifacts, trying to find some way to stop me. They will fail. Nothing they do will have the slightest effect on the Beloved.”

  “What of Nuitari?” Mina led the conversation back to where they had started.

  “I beg your pardon for straying off the subject, my dear. Nuitari has gone to attend the meeting of his conclave, at which, I’m assuming, he’s telling his cousins that he’s betrayed them by building a Tower of his own. He won’t be back any time soon, and in a few moments, all chaos is going to break loose around here. Be ready.”

  “I am, my lord,” said Mina calmly.

  She could hear the dwarf’s sonorous voice chanting.

  “You understand what you are to do?” Chemosh asked.