The Wizardwar (32 page)

Basel believed him, but Farrah’s death had had dire and far-reaching impact on the uneasy wizards. In these uneasy days, the trial of one wizard for another’s murder was like a match to oiled timber. The sooner they sorted through this tangle, the better. He wondered if perhaps Tzigone might be able to ferret out the true story from the potion bottle, as she had with the noblewoman’s necklace.

Suddenly a bolt of orange light sizzled up into the sky and exploded like festival fireworks. Droplets of bright magic spread into a brilliant fountain and sprinkled down over Basel’s tower.

The wizard broke into a run. He’d never seen such magic, but he suspected its purpose. A protective shield surrounded his villa, keeping Mason in until his fate was decided. It also kept people out, but no magic was inviolate-there were spells that could eat through this shield as surely as a black dragon’s acid melted through a northerner chain mail.

He burst through the arbor gates and sprinted down the street leading to his home. All the while, brilliant bursts of colored light exploded over his tower.

Clever, he thought grimly. Festival fireworks had been common occurrences since the recent victory. No one would find it odd to see them over Basel’s tower, and he had apparent reason to celebrate. No one would suspect the true purpose of these lights until after the deed was done.

He pulled up short as three off-duty guardsmen sauntered out of a posh tavern. “Sound an alarm,” he panted out, pointing up at the lights. “My tower is under attack.”

The men exchanged puzzled glances, but they were not in the habit of arguing with wizardlords. They executed the proper bows and set off at none-too-urgent a pace.

Basel rounded the corner to find his estate besieged. At least a dozen wizards ringed the walls, hurling one sparkling spell after another into the evening sky. All of them wore the Noor insignia, and many had the glossy blue-black hair common to Farrah’s family.

Small, shimmering gates ringed his tower, standing ready to grant the attackers a quick retreat. With so many wizards against a single apprentice, no doubt they expected a swift and easy victory. Indeed, the glowing yellow aura surrounding the estate had worn as thin as a soap bubble. It shimmered perilously under the continuing magical assault.

“So it begins,” Basel murmured as he reached for a wand in his sleeve. He leveled it at the nearest Noor wizard and unleashed a spell he’d never thought to wield against a fellow Halruaan.

Tzigone stood by the window in Matteo’s chambers, gazing moodily out over the city. They’d just come from the tower. Her visit with the queen-she could still not equate that still, sad woman with the mother she remembered-had left her uncharacteristically subdued.

In the background, Matteo and Andris talked softly, planning not only the queen’s defense, but Andris’s as well. Matteo expected that his friend’s alliance with Kiva would be forgiven in light of his service to Halruaa, both before and after his fall. Andris seemed less convinced of this. Tzigone suspected that in this regard, Andris was more on target.

A brilliant orange sunburst caught her eye. For a moment she watched as fireworks soared, blossomed, and faded. Suddenly the niggling uneasiness in the back of her mind exploded into realization. She whirled toward Matteo.

“That’s over Basel’s tower,” she said, pointing.

The jordain looked up. “So it is. Basel is fond of festive things. He has reason to celebrate.”

“He lost an apprentice,” Tzigone retorted. “Basel loved Farrah-he wouldn’t send up sparklers to mingle with the clouds from her funeral pyre!”

The two men exchanged glances, then came to flank Tzigone. “Cinibar rain,” Andris said grimly, nodding to the descending orange sparklers.

“Most likely,” Matteo agreed. Moving as one, the two jordain strode to the wall and took their weapon belts from the hooks.

“What? What?” she demanded.

“Cinnabar rain could dispel the magical shield the council placed over Basel’s tower.”

Tzigone dug into a small bag at her belt. “Meet me there,” she said, and she hurled a handful of bright sand at an open window. The frame filled with shimmering light. Tzigone leaped through it.

She landed lightly in a battle-ready crouch just outside the walls of Basel’s villa. Her eyes narrowed and swept the battlefield. Two wizards lay dead, charred beyond recognition. Basel tossed aside the spent wand and took another from his sleeve. As she watched, a thin stream of water erupted from it, splashed a spellcasting wizard, and arced up to intercept a lightning bolt of glowing cobalt blue.

Water and magical energy converged with a searing hiss. The blue bolt split in two. Half sizzled back down along the stream of water toward the wizard who had cast it, the other sped toward the water wand.

Before Tzigone could shriek out a warning, Basel tossed the wand to a nearby wizard and dived to one side.

Lightning stuck, simultaneously charring the discarded wand and the attacking wizard. A stench of burned meat filled the air, and two wizards-now nothing more than statues of coal-toppled to the ground and shattered into ash.

Keeping low, Tzigone ran over to Basel’s side, dodging the bolts directed at him. Together they dove through a portal in the seemingly solid wall and rolled through to the garden side.

“Nice trick with the wand,” she said. “With that timing, you should have been a bard.”

Basel nodded absently and glanced up at the thinning shield. “We don’t want to be in the open once that shield goes. Where the Nine bloody Hells is the militia?”

A distant percussion, the rustle of many feet running in rhythmic formation, brought a sigh of relief from the wizard, but before he could speak, the soft yellow light of the protection spell began to flow downward, like melting treacle sliding over an invisible dome.

Basel took a wand from his belt and pressed it into her hand. “Farrah’s family wants vengeance. Make them earn it.”

Before Tzigone could protest, the wizard enfolded her in a quick embrace. She felt a touch nearly as deft as her own, and the cool pressure of a delicate chain around her neck. When Basel released her, a silver talisman glimmered over her heart, and her world began to blur and shimmer. For a moment Tzigone’s world looked like two illusions cast into a single place. She could see the garden, and also the highest and most secure room in the wizard’s tower.

She struggled against the spell like an insect caught in sap, desperate to stay where she was, to fight at Basel’s side. But suddenly the world snapped back into focus, and she stood at the window of the tower armory in guard position, wand raised high and clenched in her fist like a ready knife.

Mason whirled toward her, relief and guilt struggling for possession of his countenance. “Lord Basel?”

“In the garden,” she said grimly, and brought the wand down in a stabbing motion.

A dark line poured from the wand, quickly broadening as it went and changing into a swarm of fire ants. The winged horrors spun down toward one of the attackers, in moments they engulfed the wizard, who rolled shrieking amid the stinging cloud. His agony was brief. Death followed swiftly, and the fire ants scattered into the night.

Again Tzigone stabbed, and the wand spat another swarm at a wizard who was employing a spell of levitation to breach the wall. The fire ants surrounded him in midair. In response to his agonized screams, one of his kin hurled a small green bolt at the dying man. The magic struck the roiling black cloud, and the shrieking ended in a burst of magical energy. Green droplets fell to the garden, along with a faintly rattling hail of fried insects. Oddly enough, the spell of levitation survived. The corpse floated above his kin like a grim banner.

The wand yielded two more killing swarms. Tzigone tossed aside the spent weapon and looked around at the arsenal. Mundane weapons of wood and steel stood ready, and many conical, faintly glowing vials lined several shelves. A wooden rack held battle wands, lined up neatly as the swords. There was even a small ballista, mounted on wheels so it could be moved to any of the several windows.

“Load that,” she snapped, pointing toward the giant crossbow.

Mason quickly put a bolt into place and cranked it back. She took one of the vials, fell quickly and deeply into a brief trance to check its nature and use, then gave a curt nod. She yanked the cork out with her teeth and fitted the vial over the bolt’s point, securing it with a twist. The vials had been cunningly fashioned to fit over the points of the giant arrows.

Tzigone stepped behind the ballista and leveled it at a point just beyond the wall. Several Noor wizards converged there, their hands moving in unison as they mingled their magic in some great spell. She took a deep breath, held it, and pulled the ballista trigger.

The giant bolt hissed free and plunged down toward the spellcasting wizards. It shattered on the ground nearby, sending a tremor through the tower and a flash of orange-red light over the wizards.

Suddenly the light separated into three distinct, frantic fires. The conflagration spell caught all three, setting them aflame.

Tzigone’s gaze snapped back to Basel. A faint glow around him spoke of a sphere of protection. Colored light rained down on him as two wizards hurled one colored bolt after another into the air directly above him. The portly wizard had already fallen to one knee, struggling to maintain the sphere as long as he could but unable to return the attack.

By now the militia were visible, coming at a dead run. Tzigone caught a glimpse of white among the blue-green uniforms and knew that Matteo came with them. He was, however, coming far too slowly for her peace of mind!

She looked to the enormous bilboa tree at the edge of the public garden, and began to sing. Her voice soared out into the sky, carrying into the complex city hidden among the leaves and branches.

The exploding lights reflected on enormous gossamer wings and scales the color of gemstones. Starsnakes, compelled by the sorceress’s call, spiraled down from the glittering night sky. Two of them entwined a wizard in a sinuous, deadly embrace. His frantic, defensive spells slid off their scaled hides like water. A burst of energy sizzled through him. Tzigone glimpsed a blue-white flash of bone beneath the burning flesh.

She glanced back at Mason. “You should get out of here. Basel is drawing fire away from the tower to buy you time to escape.”

As if they divined Basel’s intention, the two wizards bombarding him changed tactics. The female advanced toward the tower, wand pointed toward the window framing Tzigone and Mason. The other kept the barrage of magical fireworks raining down on Basel’s protective shield to keep the powerful wizard pinned down.

A ball of light began to grow at the end of the Noor woman’s wand, expanding until it was wider across than the wizard’s shoulders. Instinctively, Mason and Tzigone backed away from the window.

“That’s going to hurt,” Tzigone muttered.

At that moment Basel dropped the shield and pulled a throwing knife from a wrist sheath. The knife exploded into glowing crimson in his hand and spun toward the gathering sphere of destruction.

Basel’s attacker kept up the barrage. Blue and gold rain showered over the exposed wizard, searing into flesh and sending his oiled braids leaping into flame. Fire surrounded Basel, turning his countenance into that of a burning medusa. His eyes met Tzigone’s frantic gaze, and he lifted his fingers to his lips as if to blow her a kiss.

The fireball exploded.

The magic, interrupted in its casting, spilled down over the wizard and flowed over the garden like lava. The tower shook as a second explosion shuddered across the burning magic, and the flame winked out. Nothing remained of the garden or any of the wizards who had fought there.

Tzigone was dimly aware of the sizzle of small fire spells, the clatter of weapons, and the shouts of fighting men. Several of the Noor wizards fled through their gates, but most were subdued by the militia.

Swift footsteps wound up the stairs to the tower. Matteo burst into the room, his eyes quickly scanning the scene.

Mason seized a sword and lunged. Almost absently, Matteo drew a dagger, parried the attack, and disarmed the man with a quick twist. He kicked the sword aside, shouldered past the burly apprentice, and went to Tzigone.

She fell into his arms and clung, dry-eyed and stunned. “Basel,” she whispered.

“I saw.”

Several uniformed men clattered into the room. Their eyes widened as they took in the arsenal. “Look at all this,” one of them murmured in awed tones. “Lord Basel was expecting an attack.”

Tzigone stepped away and placed a restraining hand on Mason’s chest. The young man glanced into her face, then dropped the sword. Matteo faced down the man who’d just spoken.

“Don’t be absurd. There’s not a wizard’s tower in all Halruaa that hasn’t a room like this.”

“They were after this man,” Tzigone said, nodding at Mason. “I’ve seen a couple of those wizards before, come to visit Farrah Noor. Mason is suspected of her murder.

“That was her family, and they were too impatient to wait for justice.”

“Wizard fighting wizard,” muttered the man wearing captain’s braid. “This is a dark day, the first of many.”

“The tower was besieged,” Matteo retorted. “Basel’s apprentices merely defended it. The law allows any man or woman to defend their lives and homes. Do not make this into something it was not.”

He spoke with the guards for several minutes more. Finally they left to deal with the captured wizards and send messages to western Halruaa. Those who escaped would be rounded up and brought to trial.

When at last the militia left, Mason belted on a sword and began to gather up glowing vials.

“What, precisely, do you intend to do with those?” Matteo inquired.

The apprentice shot him a quick, grim look. “Basel is dead. I’m going after the Noor family.”

“Put those vials down before you drop them,” the jordain said sharply. “If you haven’t the vision to see how far these flames could burn, at least consider the practical details. How far do you suppose you’d get in your quest for vengeance? You have not yet been absolved of Farrah Noor’s murder. If you’ve an hour to spare, I値l list all the spells that could track you down in less time than the recitation of them would take.”