Part 6 (1/2)

ChAptCR 4

Teylock sat dreaming in front of the fire. These were pleasant moments, the musings benign, the occa- sional drifts into sleep unhaunted. Not like the nights when he woke screaming against the entrapment of the grey void. These periods of rosy drifting were a wel- come respite, a restorative haven. He had resisted the lure of simples to achieve the same results. He had known too many Magicians over the years who had abused their knowledge. The only problem was that he would slip away into states like this when there were other people present, so where was the difference? He always pretended that he was contemplating questions beyond the mere mortal, but the truth was that he tired easily and most of their prattle bored him.

He would be Archmage one day, if Ragnor ever de- cided to die, and then he would need all his wits about him. It didn't seem terribly important at the moment, though. It was doubtful that he could do anything as Archmage that would eclipse his present notoriety-the Mage who came back from the dead. It wasn't a bad sobriquet. It would make a good t.i.tle for a ballad. Or was that one he had heard already? He really couldn't

remember.

His head came up off his chest, spurred by some noise.

He focused and saw the Duty Boy in the doorway.

”Saw” was a little strong; ”perceived” was closer to 35.

it. The boy's outline was fuzzy. Greylock's eyes had been getting steadily worse.

”Yes, what is it?” he asked, aware of the querulous note in his voice.

”His Excellence the Mage Courtak and the Honor- able Tokamo to see you, sir,” the boy said.

”Show them in. Give them a gla.s.s. Try to make them feel welcome,” he instructed, and watched the boy do his awkward best. The boys seemed to be getting stu- pider. He remembered when Courtak had been a Duty Boy; always falling over his feet trying to please. Still, he's turned out well, Greylock thought complacently, and he is the only one who doesn't treat me like a sa- cred relic. He screwed his eyes up and saw that the sec- ond shape was indeed Tokamo. Never did have much Talent, he thought. Still, Thorden swore by him; wrote good, clear reports, loo.

”Come in, come in. Make yourselves comfortable,”

he said.

Strange how different the two of them were, he thought. They had been inseparable as boys, Courtak always in the lead. The pattern hadn't changed.

”What can I do for you lads?” he asked.

”Sorry to barge in on you like this. Mage,” Jarrod answered, ”But Tok and I have just come from a rather unusual meeting with the Holdmaster of Gwyndryth and he brought up a very interesting point that we felt we ought to discuss with you.”

”I see,” Greylock said, ”and I daresay that the ter- ritorial settlement was the subject.” He caught Toka- mo's frozen stare. ”It isn't that difficult,” he added testily. ”Given the circ.u.mstances, it's downright obvi- ous.” The boy had always been slow.

”You're right as usual, sir,” Jarrod said, ”but I bet you can't guess what the thrust of his suggestion was.”

Greylock sat back and considered. He pursed his lips

36 and locked his fingers together. It was a familiar routine for both the younger men.

”That means,” the Mage said, ”that he wasn't plead- ing either Stronta's or Celador's case. Talisman, from the map you showed me, has no reason to complain and I can't see Darius supporting Isphardel. So, as the hero of Fort Bandor, he was espousing the cause of the Songeans.” He sat back, pleased with himself.

”A very deft a.n.a.lysis, sir,” Jarrod said, ”but, alas, not the fact. No, the Holdmaster feels that Magic has lost the respect of the ma.s.ses, no longer enjoys the au- thority it once possessed. In short, he believes that it is time that the Discipline reminded people of its power, performed some startling feat of Magic.”

”Oh he does, does he?” The old Mage was fully alert.

”Did he have any suggestions?”

”Aren't you going to challenge his a.s.sumption?” To- kamo asked.

”Of course not. The man's absolutely right. It's been years since we did anything dramatic. Did he suggest anything?”

”Nothing specific,” Jarrod said.

”Typical of the laity,” Greylock said dismissively.