Katharine Kerr - The Silver Mage

For some while they discussed the crystal and the dragon book, until Salamander felt he knew everything Laz had learned about them – not that such amounted to a great deal. Laz, however, seemed pleased with their talk. When Salamander stood up to leave, Laz joined him and invited him to come back whenever he wanted.

‘It’s a relief to find people who’ll talk openly of dweomer matters,’ Laz told him.

‘No doubt, after being surrounded by Alshandra’s believers.’

Laz laughed and agreed.

When Salamander left the camp, two of the men followed him, both pure Gel da’Thae from the look of their long black hair, braided with charms, and the brightly coloured tattoos on their milk-white skin. His heart pounded briefly in fear, but they bowed to him, then knelt at his feet.

‘Big sir,’ one of them said in a language that was more or less Deverrian. ‘I speak little words, but we –’ he paused to gesture at the other man’ – now want leave Laz. Go with Drav. We ask, safe?’

‘It is. The prince has taken Drav into his service.’

The man stared at him in desperation. Salamander tried again.

‘Safe,’ he said. ‘Come see Drav with me.’

At that they both smiled.

As they followed him back to the Westfolk tents, Salamander saw Grallezar and hailed her. She took these new recruits to Drav while Salamander sought out Dallandra to give her his report.

‘Laz thinks the spirits of the book may be aware of his mind trying to reach them, but he couldn’t be sure,’ Salamander finished up. ‘And they wouldn’t know if he were a friend or an enemy.’

‘That’s very much too bad,’ Dallandra said. ‘I keep wishing I’d seen the wretched thing myself.’

‘Me, too. You know, it’s an odd thing about Laz. Is Rori truly sure he knew this soul as Alastyr?’

‘Well, he’s told me so a couple of times now. Why?’

‘He doesn’t seem as horrible as he should.’ Salamander shrugged with an embarrassed laugh. ‘I suppose that’s what I mean.’

‘You know, some people do learn from their lives. It’s one of the things that keeps my faith in the Light strong, actually, that some people really do see the evil they’ve done and do their best to redeem themselves. The opportunity’s offered to every soul in the Halls of Light.’

‘Of course.’

‘You sound doubtful.’ Dallandra cocked her head to one side and considered him.

‘In a way I suppose I am. I’ve never had grand memories of my past lives, you know. I assume I must have had some, but without actual memories, the assumption’s – well – bloodless.’

‘You should talk less and meditate more.’

‘Why am I not surprised you said that?’

When he grinned at her, she scowled at him, then softened and returned the smile. Still, he told himself, she’s right, you know – you should.

‘Besides,’ Dallandra continued, ‘Laz also had that miserable life without a shred of dweomer in it, where he was nothing but a renegade Deverry lordling, and I think he truly learned something from that, too.’

‘Which reminds me. Laz said you told him that he owned the crystal in a former life. He certainly did – as Alastyr.’

‘Yes, I know, that was a nasty slip on my part. I’ll have to think of a way to tell him without evoking that life in his mind.’

‘Good luck! Better you than I.’ Salamander hefted the crystal. ‘Shall I give this to Valandario?’

‘By all means. It rightfully belongs to her.’

Valandario was sitting in her tent, studying an array of her scrying gems, when Salamander called to her from outside.

‘Oh esteemed teacher, may I enter?’

‘Yes, certainly.’

Salamander ducked under the tent flap and came in, carrying something wrapped in what looked like an old shirt. Val smiled at him, then began picking up the gems and putting them back into their pouch. He hunkered down and waited until she’d finished.

‘I brought this back to you.’ Salamander laid the bundle down in front of her. ‘It’s the black crystal. I know you asked me to smash it, but it occurred to me that you might enjoy doing it yourself.’

‘Most likely I will,’ Val said. ‘My thanks.’

She unrolled the wrapping – indeed, an old shirt – and set the crystal down on the tent cloth between them. At the moment it appeared so ordinary, just a carved bit of obsidian, that she wondered if it were the correct crystal. Salamander supplied the evidence without being asked.

‘Every time I look into it,’ he said, ‘I see Haen Marn and Evandar.’

‘That seems to be its one power,’ Val said. ‘I wonder why Loddlaen wanted it so badly.’

‘Doubtless he didn’t know how limited it is, and besides, he was fetching it for the man called Alastyr.’

Val nodded. She was remembering Jav, laughing at some jest as they walked together down by the ocean. With a shake of her head, she banished the memory.

‘Well, what to do with it?’ Val said briskly. ‘I’d enjoy smashing it to bits, certainly, but since we don’t truly understand this bit of work, I’m hesitant. Besides, it doesn’t seem evil to me, now that I look at it.’

‘Was the crystal evil, or was it the lust for the crystal that brought the evil?’

‘A very good point.’ With a sigh Val wrapped the black stone up again in the shirt. ‘Well, I’ll keep it for a few days at least, to study its emanations. Evandar’s little gifts – by the Black Sun, how much trouble they’ve caused! The rose ring, this crystal, and now that wretched book.’

Some words they had, for dealing with those, either spiritfolk or flesh-folk, who knew Elvish words, but among themselves, the spirits of the dragon book used shape and colour to convey what thoughts they needed to share. Some leapt up in long iceblue lines, others agreed in a dim blue glow: danger, terrible danger, despite the smothering dark around the book they guarded.

Evandar, where is Evandar? They asked each other repeatedly by creating images of his various shapes, flashing like lightning in the dark. They summoned their lords and petitioned them. They brazenly asked their king, when at last he deigned to notice them. Where is the spirit known as Evandar?

Answers never came. No one knew.

‘You know, it’s odd,’ Branna said, ‘but I keep thinking about the dragon book. I wonder if we’ll ever find it?’

‘I do hope so,’ Grallezar said. ‘Without it, I doubt me we can ever turn the silver wyrm back into his true form.’

‘I’ve been thinking about that, too. Since dragons have some kind of instinct for dweomer, couldn’t we just teach him how to transform himself?’

‘After many a long year, mayhap. And mayhap the turning would fail and kill him, too.’ Grallezar sucked a thoughtful fang. ‘Did Dalla ever tell you how Evandar worked the dweomer?’

‘She did. He made some kind of dragon-shaped mould out of astral substance and wound it round Rhodry. Then the physical matter poured into it.’

‘Just so. And here be the crux of the thing. The turning itself may well be simple enough, once we find the key. But what then do we do with the astral substance that did make the mould? It be heavily charged with dweomer – twice so charged, once we free it from the man inside. I doubt me if a simple touch of a pentagram will turn it harmless and send it on its way.’

‘Oh. I’d not thought of that.’

‘The problem be a bit much for an apprentice, truly. I know you be eager to help with this working, but dealing with that dragon simulacrum had best be left to me and Dalla. Other work will come your way.’

‘Very well, then. Of course I’ll do as you say.’

Grallezar smiled briefly. ‘It gladdens my heart to see you listen to your master in the craft.’