expended most of his genuinely potent spells already. His rival's next assault was likely to finish him off.
Brom supposed he wouldn't have been human if he hadn't been tempted to turn tail. He imagined that if he fled the box, he'd probably survive, for after all, he wasn't the victim the other wizard actually wanted to kill. The masked man-dead man, if what he'd said before was true-had only engaged him for tactical reasons, to pin him down and keep him from magically preventing Master Talbot's murder.
But Brom vowed he wouldn't run. Lord Uskevren had trusted him to serve and defend his House, and he intended to do his duty.
He extracted a grubby cotton glove from his mantle, and then, although he hadn't dared to pay much attention to the fracas onstage since he started fighting himself, something about the situation below snagged his attention.
Mistress Thazienne had appeared to support her brother, and together, they flung his assailants back, turned, and fled for an exit. A backdrop smashed down behind them.
If only the masked wizard didn't realize they were escaping! But no. Perhaps he'd noticed where Brom was peering, or maybe it was simply the prompting of instinct, but in any case, he turned his head and looked, also.
'Well,' he said to his fellow spellcaster, 'it would appear that we don't need to continue our contest.' He floated upward, seemingly intending to soar over the tiring house and intercept the Uskevren when they came out the other side.
Brom would have liked nothing better than to let the other mage depart. But he knew Talbot and Thazienne needed a longer lead on their most formidable enemy to have any real hope of survival, and so he chanted and snapped the glove as if he were cracking a whip.
A huge, white, ghostly hand appeared in front of the masked wizard, hurtled at him, and shoved him backward through the air. For a moment, the spellcaster floundered helplessly against its luminous palm, then used his power of flight to distance himself from it. That gave him the space and freedom of movement to shout a word of power and swing his staff in an arc. The knob at the end slammed into the product of Brom's magic, and the hand vanished in an explosion of magenta fire.
The masked man turned toward Brom. 'That was pointless. The Uskevren cadets are dashing headlong into a trap. Even if you slew me, it wouldn't save them. But if you insist on fighting to the bitter end, so be it.' Snatching a packet from one of his pockets, he began to conjure.
Brom frantically did the same. If he could finish first, somehow slip a bit of countermagic past his enemy's wards, and disrupt the enchantment that held him aloft, the pale-eyed man would plummet-
He didn't finish first. Purple and emerald fire leaped from the other wizard's staff and engulfed him. For an instant, Brom had the terrifying impression that his flesh was attenuating, deforming, flying apart into particles finer than dust, and then he knew nothing more.
Talbot and Tazi plunged through the exit onto the snowy ground behind the playhouse, where the bodies of several more ettercaps lay motionless. The Wide Realms possessed an enchantment that held inclement weather at bay, and now Tal gasped at the bitter chill in the night air.
He and his sister sprinted toward a holding area where the palfreys and carriages of folk currently inside the theater awaited their owners' pleasure. Evidently the hostlers understood that something was amiss inside the walls, for they gaped at the newcomers. Or perhaps they were actually gawking in horror at the spiders, ettercaps, and ruffians charging over the open ground behind them. For though Tal hadn't looked back to check, he was confident his pursuers had yet to abandon the chase.
'Run!' he shouted to the hostlers, coachmen, footmen, and other servants loitering about.
True, the bravos and conjured creatures weren't actually hunting these innocents, but that was no guarantee that the hostile force wouldn't attack them if they were still lingering when it arrived.
The attendants scattered. Talbot untied his brown gelding, scrambled onto its back, and Tazi leaped onto the snow-white mare Brom had ridden.
Now that Tal was actually astride a mount, he risked a glance back at the playhouse. Sure enough, here came several spiders and ettercaps scuttling after him, and one or two toughs as well. Meanwhile, a spark of purple fire rose above the tiring house like a star of evil omen. Tal assumed it was the masked wizard, likewise taking up the pursuit.
The young noble shivered, and then he and Tazi spurred their steeds. They galloped for Stormweather Towers and left their foes behind.
Chapter 14
Had Nuldrevyn not already known it was morning, he could never have divined it from looking into Marance's suite. With the heavy, musty-spelling draperies still covering the windows, the hearth cold, and only a pair of candles burning, the parlor was as gloomy and chilly as ever.
The Talendar patriarch supposed he should have been glad of that, for he'd wanted his resurrected brother to dwell here discreetly, without doing anything to reveal his presence. Now he wished the chamber seemed a bit more like the abode of a living man and rather less like a tomb.
Marance himself sat before a chess table, the edges of the board set with the dusty, colorless crystals that adorned so many articles in the room. Fingering one of the ebony rooks, he was evidently playing a game against himself, albeit with the distracted air of a man who was devoting most of his thought to weightier matters. Meanwhile, occupying one of the divans, the loathsome Bileworm was a writhing, contorting mass, constantly shifting from one twisted, crippled-looking shape to another for some purpose Nuldrevyn couldn't comprehend, unless it was merely the familiar's amusement.
After a moment, both occupants of the suite sensed the presence of the visitors standing at the doorway. Marance turned, and, rising, gave his brother and nephew a smile. Bileworm rearranged his tangled substance into something more nearly resembling the shadow of a human being. 'Come in, kinsmen,' Marance said. 'Sit down.' Nuldrevyn kept a wary eye on Bileworm as he settled onto his chair, making sure the spirit wouldn't attempt another prank. As if divining his erstwhile victim's thoughts, the familiar gave him a leer.
'Can I pour you some wine?' Marance asked. 'Thank you, no,' Nuldrevyn said. 'Brother, we need to talk.'
The wizard arched an eyebrow. 'That sounds ominous.' 'I don't mean it to,' Nuldrevyn replied. 'It's just that I'm concerned about what happened yesterday.'
'Because my prey eluded me?' Marance strolled back to the chess table and retrieved his staff. 'Then in all candor, I have to say that if I were you, I could find it in my heart to be patient. After I died, you had thirty years to exterminate the Uskevren, and you never succeeded in killing a single one of them. I've only been back in the world of the living for a few weeks, and already I've accounted for Thamakm and Shamur. And I would have bagged the youngsters yesterday, except for the Uskevren family mage. He was a better spellcaster than I expected, but he's out of the picture now.'
'I don't think Father is upset that you haven't killed Thamalon the Second and the others yet,' said Ossian, a bit diffidently. 'Rather, he has concerns about your methods.' 'Indeed,' Marance said. 'Then speak on, Nuldrevyn. I never close my ears to sound advice.'
'I wasn't happy with that attack you conducted in broad daylight on a public street,' Nuldrevyn said, 'but it wasn't entirely reckless, so I held my tongue.'
Bileworm opened his mouth, stuck out a waggling length of shadow stuff three feet long, and grabbed it with both hands.
'Stop that,' Marance rapped, and the spirit obeyed. 'As usual, brother, I apologize for my idiot servant's impudence. You were saying?'
'I feel that the attack inside the theater was too reckless,' Nuldrevyn continued doggedly. 'Your bravos and spiders hurt a number of innocent people.'
Marance shrugged. 'Since no one knows to hold the House of Talendar accountable, what difference does it make?'
'None, perhaps,' Nuldrevyn said, 'but my concern is that if matters had fallen out just a little differently,
