‘The three young princes of Cathra ascended to the summit together. The Heritor, Orrion, begged a boon of the Sky Realm while touching the second Moon Crag formation, which lies on that very mountaintop. Who’d have thought it was there? And what a strange coincidence it was found by those lads, after our own fruitless windsearching.’
‘Most peculiar, I must agree. What happened to Prince Orrion? Did the Lights strike him dead for insolence?’
‘Nay. Fortunately, the Pain-Eaters completely ignored his irregular attempt at conjuring. And so the Likeminded ventured to answer the boy themselves, almost without volition. In some way, they channeled their power to the Ground Realm through the crag, and thence to Orrion. It was little more than an experimental exercise to the Likeminded, and they were much surprised that it succeeded.’
‘God of the Heights and Depths,’ Thalassa whispered. ‘Then the Likeminded Remnant are no longer impotent! The scales of fate may be tipping in our direction at long last.’
Ansel Pikan’s cracked lips widened in a smile. His windvoice was as clear and incisive as ever, although it would not have reached beyond the bedchamber had he tried to project it.
‘Our dear Source’s chains of blue ice have weakened slowly over the years, as we gathered scattered sigils and brought them to him for destruction. And ill-fated though my own enterprise in the Barrens was, I did manage to deny the Salka most of the first Moon Crag. That has to count in our favor.’
She pulled the comforter more snugly around him. ‘I prayed it would, though the Source himself seemed uncertain…What did you mean when you spoke of our plan for King Conrig being endangered? Is it put at risk somehow by the Demon Seat episode?’
Ansel set forth the basic facts of the arranged marriage that had driven Prince Orrion to his unwitting conjuration of the Lights.
‘The consequences of Orrion’s loss will enfuriate and trouble the king, leaving him more vulnerable than he can possibly know. Long years of opposing the Salka, as well as contending against his human enemies, have turned him harsh and unyielding. Conrig sees his hope of extending his Sovereignty beyond this island fading away. He has always been a difficult New Conflict participant – all the more so because he doesn’t know he’s been enlisted! He’ll be harder than ever to control once his scheme for his son Orrion lies in ruins.’
‘Do you think the Source’s plan for influencing the Sovereign through Deveron Austrey might now be impossible?’
‘We must trust that the former spy can still find a way to regain his old master’s friendship. Conrig cannot defeat the Salka invasion through human military efforts alone. Convincing him of that will not be easy.’
‘Perhaps Cray will think of something,’ Thalassa said, ‘as she did so fortuitously in the matter of the worms!’ She considered for a moment. ‘I shall have to go to her at once. We two must soul-travel beneath the Ice and consult the Source together on these matters.’
The dying shaman gave a prolonged sigh. He spoke aloud in a voice as faint as rustling leaves. ‘How I wish I were able to go with you! At least tell the Source that I beg forgiveness for having defied him. I had no choice but to go to the Barren Lands and destroy the first Moon Crag.’
‘Of course I’ll tell him, even though I’m certain he already knows and agrees you did the proper thing. He tried to dissuade you because of a premonition that you would not survive the mission and an understandable desire not to lose you. As a Sky Being, albeit one trapped in a body of flesh, he sometimes fails to understand our stubborn groundling self-righteousness. To say nothing of our foolish courage and need for direct action.’
Ansel Pikan began to laugh, but broke off in a fit of painful coughing. Thalassa Dru held his head against her ample breast until Wix came with the new medicament. Two drops of the elixer in milk were sufficient to bring relief to the shaman, after which she placed the heated, flannel-wrapped rock at his feet.
‘And now I must go through subtle corridors to the Green Folk. I’m loath to abandon you, my dear, but I have no choice. I leave you in good hands. Wix will stay at your side this night, and his mistress is as good a physician as I am.’ Thalassa kissed Ansel’s brow.
He spoke to her voicelessly on the wind. ‘I know my life is nearly over. I’m content with what I have accomplished. Don’t fret about me. Save your energies for the Conflict. We’ll win out. I’m certain of it.’
‘And so am I,’ the sorceress said with as much confidence as she could summon, even though a lump of cold doubt weighted her heart. She stayed at his side for a few minutes more, until his eyes closed in sleep. Then she snuffed all of the candles save one and rose from the bedside stool.
‘Wix, build up a fire in here and see to the shutters. The wind is rising outside the lodge and there will be sleet very soon. I must set out on my journey without delay, and I’ve no time to give you detailed instructions. You must care for our dear friend as best you can.’
‘Don’t worry, my lady. I’ll see to everything. Shall I wake my mistress and tell her you’ve departed?’
‘She needs her rest. I believe Ansel will sleep quietly for some hours. But don’t hesitate to fetch her if there should be a need.’
‘Yes, my lady. May your magical journey be swift and safe.’
Thalassa Dru sha Lisfallon, elder sister of the late Conjure-King Linndal of Moss and the aunt of Ullanoth and Beynor, smiled at the little old man. ‘I only hope the weather is better at Castle Morass.’
It was Master Shaman Kalawnn, second of the Eminent Four of the Salka monsters and guardian of the Known Potency, who first found out what the Likeminded Lights had done on Demon Seat.
He was deep within the bowels of Fenguard Castle in Moss, the new center of the Salka Authority now that the Dawntide Citadel had been destroyed by the vile humans, supervising the lapidary workers. They were preparing to cleave yet another fragile piece of mineral gleaned from the debris of the shattered Barren Lands Moon Crag. All previous attempts had ended in failure as the flawed moonstone disintegrated.
Suddenly Kalawnn felt a warning tingle from the minor sigil named Scriber that hung around his neck. This was followed by a severe pain deep within his brain.
‘Ahroo!’
The shaman clasped his neck with both tentacles and flopped away from the cutting bench as the vision crashed into his mind like a storm-surge. For a moment, he was blind to all else. A second low-pitched howl escaped his maw. He subsided onto the floor of the cavern, an enormous amphibian creature nearly twice the height of a man and more than four times as bulky, helpless as a beached whale.
‘Eminent One – what’s wrong?’ Several artisans crowded about him, head-crests erect and great red eyes goggling with dismay.
‘Wait…wait,’ he managed to say. ‘A windsensed revelation! I must comprehend it fully.’
Nonplussed, the other Salka stood away from his quivering body. Those who wore strength-giving sigils conjured supportive power and channeled it to the Master Shaman. The others could only focus their healing talent and murmur prayers.
‘Look at his neck!’ a gem-carver exclaimed. ‘The skin covering his gizzard glows crimson. The Potency within is active! Perhaps it disapproves of what we were about to do. Perhaps it’s angry with us for trying to work poor-quality material into new sigils.’
The others picked up the portentous word and repeated it anxiously. ‘The Potency! The Potency –’
‘Silence!’ Kalawnn bellowed. The eldritch seizure that had so abruptly afflicted him was over. He rose to his full majestic height, eyes wide open and agleam like balls of fire. ‘There is no need to be anxious. The Potency is not angry. It had nothing to do with my vision.’
‘But, master!’ one of the lapidaries protested. ‘We saw