While Amirantha descended the stairs that led to the common room, he let out a long silent sigh. He knew his foster son understood that his argumentative impulse was only borne of frustration. After the destruction of the villa there had been a flurry of activity. The dead had been cremated, the wounded tended to, and then the long conferences between Pug and his most trusted advisors had drawn to a close. Those discussions had animated the Warlock in a way he rarely experienced; they had made him happy.
Continuing down the stairs, Amirantha realized that some of his current irritation was brought forth by the contrast between that initial period of reorganization on the island, and what he was now forced to endure here. It had changed one night, two months ago; Pug and Magnus had simply vanished, along with more than thirty of their most powerful colleagues. What had been a somewhat crowded keep was all of a sudden occupied by fewer than a dozen souls.
The month Brandos had travelled south to fetch Samantha had been the loneliest time in Amirantha’s life, and he was vexed to discover how lonely he could feel. He had strong feelings on matters concerning his own conduct and appearance, and the extent to which he had missed his foster son did not sit well with them. He had cursed himself for such a feeling more than once. It was not wise to grow close to anyone, especially as he was destined to outlive most people, assuming he survived the approaching struggle.
Reaching the floor of the tower, they entered the common room and were met with an unexpected presence.
‘Jim Dasher!’ said Amirantha in greeting.
Jim turned and rose from his seat before the warming fire and said, ‘You’re still here, Amirantha.’ He extended his hand and they shook.
He exchanged greetings with Brandos, as Amirantha said, ‘My lingering was at Pug’s request. He can be most persuasive.’
‘Ah,’ said Jim, nodding. ‘He wouldn’t let you leave.’
Brandos snorted, and Amirantha said, ‘He was insistent, but truth to tell, I have found many things here interesting.’
Glancing around the stark hall, Jim said, ‘Really?’
Amirantha smiled, ‘Well, not so much lately, but the first nine months were fascinating.’
He motioned for Jim to move with him towards the large doors. ‘My quarters are adequate, but hardly commodious, so I thought to step outside for a breath of air now that the rain has nearly stopped.’
Jim nodded, pulled his boots on, and fell into step behind him. ‘I just came in from the…’ Jim began, and then stopped himself. ‘Actually, I’m supposed to report directly to Pug on this matter.’ He looked hard at Amirantha, then said, ‘Still, much of what I’ve seen concerns you, too.’
‘Really?’ said the Warlock. He said no more, content to let the mysterious noble-turned-spy speak when he was ready.
As they reached the entrance to the yard, they paused, feeling the occasional rain-drop blown in by the freshening wind, then continued on, leaving the relative warmth of the keep entrance for the soggy ground of the marshalling yard. The rain had almost stopped and the wind was freshening a little; it already felt dryer.
‘So, you were about to say?’
Jim appeared annoyed. ‘I can never tell who knows what around here.’
Amirantha laughed. ‘I can tell you this much, my friend: all of us here have some power and ability, despite appearances to the contrary. Pug ensured all the vulnerable students were safely away within a day of—’
‘The attack,’ Jim finished.
‘I was going to say the death of his wife and son.’ Amirantha sighed. ‘Never having had children, I can only imagine what he’s going through. I had little experience of him to judge what he was like before that, scant hours really, but…’ He shrugged.
‘You sense he’s changed,’ said Jim. He looked to the west where somewhere behind the clouds the sun was lowering toward the horizon. ‘He knew I was engaged on important business, and yet he has left no apparent means of contacting him; that is most unlike Pug. It’s as if he’s…’ Jim shrugged.
‘Distracted?’ offered Amirantha.
‘More,’ said Jim. ‘He’s distant in a way that troubles me.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Jim smiled slightly. ‘I don’t expect you to. I hardly know the man well, despite our tenuous kinship.’
‘Kinship?’
Jim said, ‘My great-grandmother was his foster daughter.’
Amirantha raised his eyebrows in slight surprise. ‘Tenuous by blood perhaps, but otherwise?’
‘We are not close. It is a long story, a family matter, and really not pertinent to the discussion at hand.’
Amirantha shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but we have ample time to fill. Enlighten me.’
Jim stared off into the darkening afternoon gloom and said, ‘While Pug and I may not be close, I do know a great deal about him; his role in Kingdom politics has been significant, since long before I was born.’
‘Obviously,’ agreed Amirantha. ‘Given the rank and status of those who have visited here since I was first made aware of the Conclave’s existence.’
‘So in my other duties to the Crown, I’ve been required to study a great deal of history, much of it penned by my own forbearers. I know Pug to be a man of strong convictions and one who pays attention to detail. He is not the sort to let impor-tant things slip by. Yet lately…’ Jim took a deep breath.
‘I assume you mean this,’ Amirantha said, indicating the cold, nearly empty castle around them with a wave of his hand.
‘I would have expected the man I knew, the one I studied, to have begun reconstruction on the villa at once, defiantly, to let his enemies know that they would not prevail.’
Amirantha nodded, pursing his lips in thought. He remained quiet for a moment, then asked, ‘How much time do you think his enemies spend studying him?’
Jim inclined his head slightly as if conceding the point.
‘Would it not seem, given what has happened here, that Pug knows he’s under a great deal of scrutiny? By such accounts, his enemies have been coming at him for years, in one form or another.’
‘Only if you assume that there is a single intelligence behind the series of assaults on this world going, yes. But that can only be an assumption.’
‘A better one,’ observed the Warlock, ‘than thinking that this land has been beset by a string of coincidental afflictions.
‘I may not be a master of magic on Pug’s scale, but I know enough about the other realms to suspect this is not a series of random occurrences.’ He paused, and Brandos recognized his expression. Amirantha was frustrated. ‘Over the last year I’ve heard frequent reference to things such as the Pantathian Serpent Priests, the Riftwar, the Great Uprising, and all the rest of it; enough of them to believe there is one agent behind all of this, one intelligence that has targeted this world, perhaps this very nation, even perhaps this island, for reasons known only to them; but irrespective of those reasons, the consequences for this entire world are bound to be dire.’
‘I agree,’ said Jim, ‘but explain your reasons.’
‘The Pantathians exist in the distant mountains to the west of my home, yet stories of them travel; they are a strange race, and their obliteration has been assumed numerous times, yet they linger.
‘They serve an ancient hate, a female idol they call “the mother of us all”. They kill without remorse any who refuse to serve her.
‘The Emerald Queen, whose army savaged my homeland before travelling half-way around the world to come to the Kingdom, was a demon in disguise.’