Angus Wells - The God Wars 01 (55 page)

 
          
"He'll
tell us where the army lies," Anomius promised, settling himself
comfortably on the grass.

 
          
"And
warn the Tyrant's wizards that magic's abroad?" Calandryll asked.

 
          
Anomius
shrugged negligently. "Likely they'll assume him a spy of Sathoman's—they
know I'm lieged to the Fayne lord, so they'll think him sent from the
highlands."

 
          
"And
if they send out their own

 
          
"Aha!"
Anomius clapped his hands delightedly. "You are familiar with
the    
quyvhal!"

 
          
Calandryll
dropped his saddle, spread his blanket.

 
          
"I
have read of them. Both Samium and Medith mention them, Corrhum, too."

 
          
Anomius
nodded, smiling. "I knew you were a remarkable young man," he
complimented. "We must talk of this—Sathoman and his followers are more
interested in conquest than erudition and I long for civilized discourse."

           
Once—in a life left
behind—such a complunent might have flattered Calandryll. Had flattered him,
when Varent paid it, but now he said only, "We must get a fire going
"

           
"By all
means," the wizard agreed, "but after, let us talk. Perhaps over
roast venison?"

           
This latter was directed at Bracht,
who met the tacit suggestion with a look of surprise.

           
"You're not afraid I'll
flee?"

 
          
Anomius
shook his head.

 
          
"You
gave your word as a warrior of Cuan na'For—nor do I believe you'd quit your
comrade." He chuckled, his smile a challenge. "And the spell I set
upon you would bring you back. Stray too far and you'll know pain beyond your
imagining."

 
          
"The
deer may not know my limitations.

 
          
Calandryll
saw fury spark in the Kem's blue eyes. An- omius shrugged again and said,
"Find one within the aegis of my spell, then."

 
          
Bracht
stared at him a moment longer, then nodded, stringing the bow. Calandryll moved
to join him, but the wizard waved him back. "We need but one deer and
you've no bow." He accepted, mind returning to the thoughts of that
afternoon as Bracht faded into the undergrowth. Was the sorcerer's desire to
keep him there based on need, rather than the wish for conversation? They could
neither of them attack him, save that they
figh
t together, but were they
able to escape the wizard's observation ... might his spells be useless then?
He said, "I'll gather wood," and when Anomius nodded, set to scouring
the edges of the clearing for the makings of a

 
          
A
cheerful blaze begun, Anomius motioned him to the blanket and he squatted, setting
a kettle to heat water for

 
          
"So"
the wizard declared, his tone conversational, amiable, as though they were two
friends idling away the hours before sleep, "you have read the
classics."

 
          
“The
library in Secca is extensive,” he murmured, “and I've a love for books.”

 
          
"Mandradus
built a sizable library." Anomius s voice was nostalgic. "But
Sathoman has little concern for books. You've read Dashirrhan?"

           
"No." Calandryll shook his
head, busying himself with the kettle. "Though I've heard of him. Wasn't he
a mage?"

 
          
"One
of the greatest," Anomius nodded, "and a historian, to boot. His
Treatise
on Magick and Gramaryes
is a marvelous work. It mentions Tezin-dar, of
course. But oddly says nothing of the grimoire we seek."

 
          
His
voice was mild, but behind his seeming affability Calandryll heard the scrape
of steel: he shrugged, adding herbs to the infusion.

 
          
"Yet
your Lord Varent den Tarl sent you seeking the book. Even thought it is not
mentioned by Dashirrhan. Or Samium. Or Medith."

 
          
Calandryll
assumed an expression he hoped was guileless. "I know only what I've told
you," he said.

 
          
Anomius
scratched thoughtfully at his grandiose nose. The eyes he turned on Calandryll
reflected the fire's light, suddenly akin to the glowing orbs of the golem.

 
          
"Perhaps
Varent lied to you. Or you to me."

 
          
"Would
you not know, had I lied?"

 
          
He
forced himself to return the wizard's stare, eyes locking for long moments.
Then Anomius smiled, chuckling.

 
          
"The
stone protects you, boy—I cannot see past it. Were you to remove it, however
..."

 
          
"I
cannot!" Quickly, Calandryll shook his head, desperately extemporizing.
"Lord Varent made that clear to me, in Secca, when he explained what we
must do. The stone itself is magical, and Lord Varent set further spells on
it—he impressed upon me that should I remove it, or it be removed, I can no
longer locate the grimoire. To remove the stone is to lose the book."

 
          
Anomius
was silent for a while. Calandryll stirred the kettle, hoping the lie was
convincing. Then the wizard sniffed. "So be it—I shall not attempt to
coerce knowledge." He chuckled again, his casual tone returning. "But
tell me more of this mysterious grimoire."

 
          
"I
have only Lord Varent's word," Calandryll said, resisting the impulse to
express his relief with a sigh. "He said that the grimoire is one of the
forgotten books—that it contains gramaryes used by the gods themselves, and
must invest its owner with power unimaginable. He risked my father's wrath,
perhaps even war between our cities, to bring me out of Secca, and—as you've
seen—he furnished the coin to finance our travels. I took him on his
word."

           
Anomius's eyes flickered, hooding:
Calandryll hoped he saw greed rekindled.

 
          
"And
so you set out for Gessyth. You and the Kern, alone."

 
          
"Lord
Varent feared a larger party must alert Azumandias. That he would endeavor to
seize the map."

 
          
"You
forget the stone. You say the map is useless without the stone."

 
          
"Azumandias
has no need of it. Lord Varent said his powers are such that he could locate
the grimoire without its aid."

 
          
"Then
so might I."

 
          
Despite
the fire's warmth a chill raised hairs on Calandryll's neck: he shrugged,
fighting alarm to answer the wizard with some kind of logic, some reasoning
that would persuade him.

 
          
"Perhaps.
But if not..."

 
          
Birdlike
laughter twittered, then Anomius's voice grew cold with threat. "If this
Azumandias has no need of the stone, then likely nor do I," he said.
"And if I have no need of the stone, I have no need of you or the Kern."

 
          
"No,"
Calandryll agreed, the chill joined by sweat now, "but I think that
without the stone it must be harder to find the grimoire. And surely Tezin-dar
is guarded— Medith speaks of sentinels; Samium of demons at the portals."

 
          
"Aye,"
Anomius nodded, "there is that."

 
          
 
 
"So likely the finding must be
rendered easier by the stone."

           
Again the wizard
nodded. "You argue well, Calandryll den Karynth. Stop trembling now, for
I'll keep you with me. Unless I find you've lied."

           
He ducked his head, licking
lips gone suddenly dry.

           
"And when you've
the book?"

           
"If what you say
is true I'll be the mightiest sorcerer in all the world."

           
"And us?"

           
Anomius shook his head; effected a
casual wave.

 
          
"You'll
find me generous. Why should I harm the two who bring me to such power? You'll
be under my protection."

 
          
"In
Kandahar
?" he asked. "What of Sathoman?
What of the Chaipaku?"

 
          
"With
such power at my command you'll be safe from both," Anomius promised.
"I'll make Sathoman Tyrant and buy off the Brotherhood. Perhaps I'll make
you Domm of Secca; Bracht Overlord of Cuan na'For. You see? You've as much to
gain from this as I. We're allies, we three."

 
          
It
seemed the moment of danger passed: lust for power seduced the wizard.
Calandryll smiled and said, "And yet you don't trust us."

 
          
The
birdlike laughter trilled again. "Our alliance is bom of necessity, rather
than choice," the wizard tittered. "Neither you or the Kem seem
overfond of my company—would you not, in my place, tread cautiously?"

 
          
"I
would," Calandryll agreed; honestly.

 
          
"Nonetheless
we remain allies, so we'd as well make the best of it."

 
          
"Aye,"
he said.

 
          
"So
we travel together and there's an end to it. Serve me well and you'll be well
rewarded. Seek to betray me and ..."

 
          
The
wizard's right hand moved and flame gouted high, the kettle seething. It was
demonstration enough: Calandryll sprang back, measuring his length on the grass
as Anomius laughed.

 
          
"Now
let's forget such depressing matters and speak of books, of learning," he
said cheerfully. "We'll while away the time until Bracht returns with
scholarly talk. What do you say to Samium's proposition that life began north
of the Borrhun-maj?"

 
          
Relieved,
Calandryll bent his mind to these easier matters and they talked until Bracht
appeared, a bloody haunch of venison slung on his shoulder.

 
          
"Well
done," Anomius applauded, "this talking's given me a rare
appetite."

 
          
The
Kem drew his knife and began to carve the meat, spitting strips over the fire.

 
          
"Your
creature's not returned?" he demanded.

 
          
"Unless
he finds urgent need he'll not be back until dawn.” Anomius replied, "The
quyvhal
range far, and they love the night.”

 
          
"And
if he sights the Tyrant's army?”

 
          
"He'll
tell me where it stands and we'll avoid it."

 
          
"And
was Calandryll's question answered?"

 
          
"Which
one?" Anomius asked.

 
          
"What
if the Tyrant's warlocks send their own
quyvhal?"

 
          
"The
creatures have no magical aptitude of their own, the wizard beamed. "They
are eyes in the night, no more—should one sight us it will see three travelers
feasting on roast venison, not magic."

           
"You knew of Calandryll's stone
through the creature," argued Bracht. "When it found us in Octofan's
barn."

 
          
"Calandryll
made reference to the stone then and the
quyvhal
reported that to me,"
Anomius responded. "That was how I knew."