Storm Breaking

'Tre'valen and Dawnfire are Avatars of Kal'enel, Tarrn,' An'desha said, very quietly. 'And although I would not have claimed the privilege of saying they were my friends, they have been very good to me.'

Tre'valen laughed. 'Well, claim it or not, we are your friends, little brother. And more than that, we're here to help you as much as we can.'

That astonishing statement broke the spell holding everyone frozen in silence, and everyone in the Tower converged on the pair except for Karal, who sat abruptly down.

We have Altra for Vkandis, Florian for the gods of Valdemar—and now this. What is that Shin'a'in saying? Be careful what you ask for?

Well, he had asked for Divine aid; whether it would be enough remained to be seen.

Eight

'All I know is this,' King Tremane said, rubbing his temple in a gesture of nervous habit, 'I haven't even tried to light a candle magically for weeks, but my mage-energy is going somewhere. If you can tell me where, I'll feel a great deal better.'

Darkwind nodded, squinting a little against the brilliant sunlight streaming in through the windows of the King's Tower. That was what everyone called it now—'the King's Tower,' as Shonar had become, by default, the new capital of Hardorn. It was a small and slightly shabby residence for a King, but Hardorn itself had seen better days. It would do Tremane no harm to be seen putting the welfare of his new country above his own comforts.

After a frenzy of make-do preparations, there had been a tiny coronation ceremony, wherein Duke Tremane had become King Tremane, and had been presented with a crown that (like the country) was rather the worse for wear. It even appeared to have been flattened before someone managed to wrestle it back into shape.

Still, it was—at least now—the authentic crown of Hardorn, and there was something to be said for that.

Tremane had accepted it graciously, worn it for the coronation. then immediately went to his private possessions and had a few things melted down and made into a very slim, gold band with minimal ornamentation that bore a remarkable resemblance to his ducal coronet.

That, in turn, had borne a remarkable resemblance to the slender coronet that Selenay wore, but Darkwind didn't see any reason to mention that. Frankly, the thin band looked dignified on Tremane's balding head, as opposed to the heavy crown. Even if it hadn't been battered, the original crown still looked rather silly, at least to Darkwind's eyes.

Crowns. This conference isn't about crowns. He turned his attention instead to Tremane's statement. 'I think,' he said slowly, 'that your energy is going into the land—at least in making queries of where and what problems there are—and that where it goes tells you what places are most damaged. I suspect that those places producing monstrosities are the most heavily damaged, which is how you have been managing to pinpoint their lairs. You can probably stop the drainage if you choose.'

Tremane considered that for a moment, then shrugged. 'On the whole, I don't see why I should bother. It isn't a critical drain, and it isn't paining me or making me physically weaker. The only things I might want to do magically are things the earth-sense is giving me anyway. I just wanted to know where my energies were going; it could have been due to something more sinister.'

That was astute of him, and a reflection on the changes in his thinking that he did not immediately assume it was something sinister and begin looking for an enemy, 'Tayledras Healing Adepts can send their energies out to damaged land deliberately,' Darkwind told him. 'And they can redirect energy from elsewhere, using themselves as a conduit. You seem to have many of the same abilities, given to you by the earth-sense, rather than by accident of birth or because of training.'

'Interesting.' Tremane replied, his brows knitting slightly with thought. He leaned toward Darkwind as something occurred to him. 'You know, there's another thing; I had assumed that I'd have earth-sense for all of Hardorn, from border to border, but every time one of those groups comes in to give me their—their pledge—it seems as if I can sense more than I could before. It's difficult to explain; it's as if I knew the place was there, but it was blank or shadowed to me. It's analogous to seeing into a room that was darkened and is now illuminated.'

'That may be precisely what is happening,' Darkwind admitted. 'When someone has an affinity for a given area—usually a homeland, or at least the village they grew up in—a magical link naturally forms between them and the place. Location and divination spells work just a little easier when they involve that person's home area as a target, for example, over places the person may have been to only once. When these people open themselves up to your rule, they may also very well be opening up their home-affinity connection to you, too. Or, well, it could also be that the earth you take from them in the seisin ceremony links you to that place. It's fairly obvious to me that the seisin ceremony itself is a primitive piece of contamination-magic. As for details of how you can use that to advantage, I don't know; you'd have to ask someone who already has the sense.'

He hadn't missed the hesitation before Tremane picked the word 'pledge.' Poor Tremane was enduring a great deal of personal embarrassment for the sake of these people, if only they knew it. Little groups were trickling in all the time to swear fealty to their new king, and they were using an ancient ritual they referred to as 'seisin,' a ritual probably as old as the earth-taking ritual. There was no doubt in Darkwind's mind that it was just as potent as the earth-taking, and just as primitive.