It didn’t matter. He had taken The Tiger’s Eye, and he would suffer the consequences for having done so—and so would everybody else—unless he could escape from them. The horse was still under Embril’s Swiftness spell, and that helped. It would carry him quite far before the spell dissipated—unless Embril could end it from a distance. He wouldn’t put it past her; there were a lot of things a wizard could do that he didn’t know about. So, while the spell lasted, he planned to ride as hard and fast as he could until he got to—
To where?
It had been stupid to pilfer The Tiger’s Eye without a plan of action that included escape and having a buyer already lined up. Embril should have caught up with him already, and it was a wonder that she hadn’t. He couldn’t rely on dumb luck to get him out of this, could he? So where could he go to elude her—and Hellsbreath’s garrison, once they found out about what had happened. They would find out, too; Embril would see to that somehow. So where could he go?
Wherever it was, he needed to get started. He turned his horse away from Embril and kneed it to a full gallop down the sharp incline of the road. He gave the horse its head, letting it pick its path while he considered his options.
I can’t go back to Hellsbreath, he thought. They’ll hang me for sure when they find out what I’ve done. Wyrmwood? I might be able to reach it before they receive the news, but I won’t be able to stay there. Tyrag? Pointless; the wizards will send word to the capital long before I get out of The Tween. He paused for a moment. The Tween?
I can’t go to The Southlands because I can’t get past Hellsbreath. They’ll no doubt increase their patrols once they find out I’ve taken The Tiger’s Eye, and they’ll surely search me. He frowned. I’ll have to hide the Skull. It’s supposed to be in the box, and that will be suspicious. But where can I put it? He shook his head; there would be time for that later.
Can I get to the Western Kingdoms from here? He shuddered and nearly dismissed it. There were other reasons he couldn’t go back there. Then again, he might be able to make it through the mountains to the road running through them, but he’d have to go over and around the volcanoes to do it. Normally, that wouldn’t be a huge problem, since he could climb along cliff faces better than most and their eruptions were usually fairly minor. But with The Tiger’s Eye gone, there was no telling what they would be like.
He frowned and focused on staying in the saddle for a few minutes, but as he approached the flattish, sparsely-treed area between the mountain and the plateau, he knew he had to make a decision. He had narrowed it down to three choices: He could catch up with Lieutenant Jarhad’s patrol—they couldn’t have gone that far yet—and convince them that Darby had taken The Tiger’s Eye and Embril was pursuing him. That made sense, didn’t it? If he could figure out how to explain the horse. Would it be enough to convince Lieutenant Jarhad? Even if it didn’t, there wasn’t much Lieutenant Jarhad could do without his Truthseer. Besides, they would be too busy to find out—Giorge would see to that by making his story as unnerving as he could. Spewing lava and grumbling volcanoes… The volcano might even be erupting by the time he reached them.
The second option required that he turn south on the road running through the plateau. They had found it last fall, but there was no way of knowing how far it went before it ended. It might get him close to the West Road, and if so, he wouldn’t have to do much climbing. Did he have enough food and water for it? He could make up his mind when he reached the crossroads—and he might run into Lieutenant Jarhad’s patrol before then. If he did, Lieutenant Jarhad would make it impossible for him to go that way if he couldn’t sneak off.
The third option was more interesting—and potentially far more dangerous. Angus’s map had a place in The Tween marked as ELHOUIT ACHNUT. It was supposed to warn people away from that area, but more often than not, it meant the cartographer hadn’t bothered to go there. Sometimes it was a real warning, though, and it had been added to the map recently. It was in The Tween, though, and The Tween Effect kept most people from going too far into it. The cartographer might have been frightened away from it by the paranoia brought on by the mushroom smoke.
Giorge shuddered. He knew all too well what the mushroom smoke could do, thanks to the trick Angus had played on him. Angus had only tossed a little bit of it into the fire, but it had nearly driven him insane before it had worn off. There was a lot more of those mushrooms on the plateau—the dwarves grew them so they could burn it, since the smoke kept almost everyone out of The Tween. What would happen if lava flowed across the plateau? The dwarves had piles of dried mushrooms. If they started burning….
The horse skirted the first few trees, and Giorge began studying the landscape for signs of Lieutenant Jarhad’s men. He was the kind of patrol leader who might take the precaution of leaving a scout behind to watch for them, and Giorge wasn’t ready with his story yet. He needed to decide the basics of it and then memorize the details so he could tell the story a little differently each time. The core events had to be exacting, but he needed to play with the periphery and wording to be convincing. Nothing shouted “Lie!” louder than repeating a story exactly the same way each time it was told. Besides, if he went to ELHOUIT ACHNUT, it would be after meeting up with Lieutenant Jarhad’s group, and that meant that he could wait until then to make his decision. So what about the story?
We had just reached the temple ruins….
8
While they hurried to the Grand Master’s private chambers, Angus expanded upon what he could about The Tiger’s Eye, the nexus, the Angst temple, his letter to Embril, and anything else that might be useful for the Grand Master’s preparations to defend the Wizards’ School and Hellsbreath. When they turned the last corner, Master Renard hurried up to them. He was a beardless middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and placid blue eyes. His dark green robe couldn’t hide the fact that he was a bit overweight, and he was an inch or two shorter than Angus.
“Grand Master,” he began in a rich, intense baritone. “I must speak with you about what is happening.”
“Master Renard,” Grand Master Fredrick said as he walked up to his door and waved his hand to tweak the strands of magic that would open it. “I will address the Masters once I have sufficient information to do so.”
“That is precisely why I am here, Grand Master,” Master Renard said in a rush. “I have the information you need.”
“Indeed? Then you had best come with us.” the Grand Master said as he stepped past him and into his private chambers.
“Were you able to decipher the Angst tomes?” Angus asked as he waited for Master Renard to step into the room. “Is there something in them that will help us?”
Master Renard said nothing until they were inside and the door closed. Then he turned to Angus and shook his head. “I didn’t need to decipher it,” he said. “I already knew how to read it.”
“You did?” Angus asked in surprise. He hadn’t mentioned that when he had bought the two tomes. “What were in them?”
“The major tome contained instructions for their daily observances, rituals, and ceremonies. It also outlined their basic beliefs. I had known about those already, so there was nothing new to me in them. The minor text was a personal journal detailing their migration to avoid being destroyed by the Invaders. It is a disturbing account.”
The Grand Master gestured to his table and sat down. His assistant brought a platter to the table and set it down in front of the Grand Master. Then his assistant turned to Angus and Master Renard and asked, “Would you care for something?”
The Grand Master lifted his knife and waved it vaguely in their direction. “You should eat,” he said. “We will be quite busy for some time, I fear.”
Angus declined with a shake of his head, and then Master Renard asked for a simple sandwich, some cheese, and beer.
Once his assistant had left, the Grand Master turned to Master Renard and said, “You have information?”
“Yes, Grand Master. Wha
t has begun has happened once before, during the Angst migration. Their temple was originally placed over what we would call a nexus point, but for them it was an altar to their deity—a fire god whose name I shall not say. When the kings ordered The Taming to be performed, the Angst refused. There was a war, and they fended off the Invaders—King Vir’s men—for some time before realizing they could not remain where they were. That was when they migrated. Naturally, they took their nexus point with them.”
“The Tiger’s Eye,” Angus said.
Master Renard nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. “But according to the Angst text, it isn’t like the other nexus stones. It was not fabricated by the Grand Masters to fracture and disperse the magic; it was—according to the Angst—a gift from their deity. The nexus stones we are familiar with were placed over natural concentrations of magic; they did not create those concentrations of magic. If we take away the stone, the magic would continue to flow outward from that point, but it will be unruly and difficult to use. The nexus point would not move. The Tiger’s Eye does not work like this. When the Angst left their original temple, they took The Tiger’s Eye with them and the nexus followed it. Flame magic from deep beneath the surface was attracted to The Tiger’s Eye, and The Tiger’s Eye reached out for it and drew the flame magic to it. It is not a nexus point of the sort with which we work.”
The Grand Master frowned, swallowed, and asked, “Are you saying it isn’t a part of the network?”
Master Renard nodded. “Exactly. It isn’t a nexus point as we understand it to be. However, the flame magic it summons does have an impact on the network. It has to come from somewhere, of course, and it may bleed off energy from the network.” He paused. “It will depend on where The Tiger’s Eye goes. The nearer it is to a nexus point, the more disruptive it will be to it.”
“I see,” Grand Master Fredrick said as he cut through a thick slab of cheese. “If whoever takes it approaches Hellsbreath, it will siphon off the flame magic. Since we need that flame magic to maintain the dome, the dome’s magic will be disrupted and may fail.”
“Yes,” Master Renard said. “We should be able to tell if it is approaching simply by the reaction of the flame magic in our nexus point. However, that is not our chief concern.”
“It isn’t?” the Grand Master repeated, raising his eyebrows. “There is something worse?”
Master Renard nodded. “Yes. When the Angst migrated, volcanic eruptions followed in their wake.”
It is as I feared, Angus thought. And yet, it is not what I thought would happen. “If The Tiger’s Eye has been taken and is moving,” Angus asked. “Why is there so much flame magic concentrated at the point where the Angst temple should be?”
“That,” Master Renard agreed, “is what concerns me. It is acting as if a cork has been taken from a bottle of wine after it has been well-shaken. It should be acting like a mountain cat stalking its prey. The flame magic should be following the one who took The Tiger’s Eye, but it isn’t—unless the one who took it is still there.”
Angus frowned. Could Embril have been caught in one of the traps after she took The Tiger’s Eye? Is she injured? His heart beat more stridently as he added, Is she dead?
Master Renard sighed, “If only Darby had succeeded.”
“Darby?” the Grand Master asked.
Master Renard nodded. “The wizard we sent with the patrol. He was supposed to add safeguards to prevent others from discovering the nexus.”
Darby? Angus wondered. Could he have taken The Tiger’s Eye? It was a possibility. It was a more palatable possibility than Embril betraying his trust in her. Darby could have taken The Tiger’s Eye if he knew what to look for, where to look for it—but he wouldn’t know that unless Embril had told him. “Did he know where to look for it?”
Master Renard shook his head. “We knew only what you had reported to Commander Garret. He was to find out what he could about the ruins and, if possible, to locate and protect the nexus. It is too powerful to be let loose by someone who does not understand it. When the Angst moved it the last time, the volcanoes only subsided once The Tiger’s Eye had been secured again, and the rituals involved were complicated. I doubt we could replicate them.”
The Grand Master studied him for a long moment. “It would seem, then, that we have three problems. First, we must keep watch on our nexus in case there are fluctuations in the flame magic—or the other strands, for that matter. Second, we must prepare for the onslaught of volcanic eruptions, which could pose considerable difficulty if the disruptions in our nexus cause the dome to fail. Third, we need to find the one who took The Tiger’s Eye and somehow take it back to where it belongs.”
“I will find The Tiger’s Eye,” Angus said with cold determination. “It is my responsibility that it was lost.” He paused and met the Grand Master’s stare. “Let me have my magic and convince Commander Garret to let me leave Hellsbreath. We cannot allow the culprit to come near the city.”
“No,” Master Renard said. “Grand Master, I must be the one who retrieves The Tiger’s Eye. I have intimate knowledge of the Angst and their migration. I would have a better chance of reestablishing the nexus than Angus.”
The Grand Master looked down at his nearly empty platter and picked up the last bit of bread. He chewed on it for several seconds, swallowed, and drank heavily from his goblet. Then he said, “I think it best if both of you go.” He looked intently at Angus for a long moment and added, “I am not convinced that your part in this is accidental, Angus. Nor is it finished.” He paused to study him, and then finished, “I will speak to Commander Garret once I have readied the school to deal with what we must. I will do my best to persuade him to let you go, but I am not the king.”
9
King Tyr was about to step into his bath when Phillip burst into his bathing chamber. His eyes were open too far, and he was wringing his hands in a most disorganized manner. He had never before seen Phillip in such a state and slowly brought his bare foot away from the surface of the water. “What is it, Phillip?” he asked.
“Sire,” Phillip said, his voice crackling like a man’s rich baritone emerging from a boy’s trembling tenor. “The Grand Master, himself, begs an audience!”
King Tyr frowned. The Grand Master never made a personal appearance without first sending an underling to arrange a convenient time for both of them. “My robe,” he said, waving off Phillip’s unsettling behavior. The last time the Grand Master had arrived unannounced…. “Quickly, now!”
He was already walking toward the door when Phillip caught up with him, and he paused long enough to allow the robe to be draped over his shoulders. It settled comfortably around him, and even though it wasn’t properly positioned, he did his best to ignore it. It was not wise to keep the Grand Master waiting—even if he was the king.
“Where is he?” King Tyr asked as he squirmed in the loose-fitting garment.
“Sire, I—” His eyes somehow grew even larger as he stuttered, “I—I left him in the audience chamber. He was just there, and I—”
“Bring him to my dining chamber at once!” King Tyr ordered. “Never leave the Grand Master waiting!” he called after Phillip’s scampering form. Surely Felix told you that!
A moment later, he had dismissed Phillip from his mind and was focusing on the Grand Master. It was rare for the two to meet, and when they did, it was as begrudging equals. The king had his duties, and the Grand Master had his. They tended to keep to them, and only met to discuss what was in both of their interests. Usually, those meetings lasted just long enough to reaffirm their lack of interest in each others’ worlds. The king ruled, and the Grand Master taught and studied. The two worlds seldom crossed paths, but when they did, there were usually dire consequences for both of them.
King Tyr was impatiently waiting next to his empty table when Phillip led the Grand Master into his dining chamber. “Ah, Grand Master Thom,” King Tyr said with his most implacable smile. It wouldn’t generate warmth, but it didn’t
need to; there were no delusions held between the two men. He walked up to the chubby little man, half-turned, and held out his arm to gesture at the table. “Would you care to join me for a meal?”
“Milord King,” Grand Master Thom said with a slight bow that both knew held no deference. “Thank you kindly for the offer, but I fear there is no time. We must speak on a matter most urgent.”
King Tyr’s smile didn’t waver as he let his arm fall to his side and turned to Phillip. “Leave us,” he said. “I will call upon you when you are needed.” He glanced at the stocky little wizard and added, “Fetch a bottle of wine from the finest vintages in my personal cellar.”
“At once, Sire,” Phillip said, almost stumbling over his feet as he made haste to comply.
“Now,” King Tyr said, gesturing to the table again. “Perhaps you will tell me the purpose of your visit?”
Grand Master Thom walked at his side and said, “A major nexus has been disturbed.”
King Tyr’s steps faltered, but he quickly recovered.
“I see you understand the significance,” the Grand Master coolly said.
King Tyr sat down and met the Grand Master’s stern eyes. They were a steely gray-blue that were as hard and fine as any steel he had ever seen. “The Taming,” he said. “It could fail?”
The Grand Master considered for a long moment before nodding. “Perhaps,” he said. “Its impact is yet to be determined. We are seeking a resolution, but there may be none.”
“Surely there is time to restore it?” King Tyr said. “The safeguards—”
“Are nonexistent,” the Grand Master interrupted. “The nexus was lost long ago and was only recently rediscovered.”
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