intelligence. Before the Collosnon invasion, the wizard Heenmor had called at the High Castle and had requisitioned four horses and some supplies; his visit had been attended by the death of three men, all of whom had died from snakebite.
Jeferies, lord of the High Castle, had sent trackers to shadow Heenmor; they had lost him in the Kikashi Hills, to the east. The council of war decided to pursue Heenmor east, and take a slap at the Collosnon in Skua on the way back.
Everything was going well. Morale, in particular, was sky-high. Few of Comedo's men had any fire in their bellies, but they revelled in the slaughter of armies of magic-disabled Collosnon soldiers – and looting the bodies afterwards. Only one warrior was unhappy -Hearst – but he waited until he was alone with Elkor Alish before voicing his discontent: 'Blackwood,' said Hearst.
'What about him?'
'You know what I'm talking about. His wife. The castle. The mad-jewel. Why wasn't I told?' 'Prince Comedo wanted it that way.' 'You could've -'
'What? Told the prince his rights over his own castle, over his own subjects, over a man guilty of a crime against his law? Since when did we lecture princes on the governance of their realms? Did we speak against Tan Siander when he ordered the child sacrifice at Tanokavoy? Did we snub the Bailiff of Chi'ash-lan when he wanted -'
'Alish, this is different!'
'Different? How?'
'I owe a debt to Blackwood, I thought -' 178 'What? That I should help you pay your debts? Believe me, I owe you nothing!'
A banquet was held, celebrating the start of the adventure east. Everyone was in high spirits, ready to do justice to the feast, but eventually, one by one, even the mightiest trenchermen met their measure. At last, only a few were left in the Great Hall of the High Castle, the rest having been dismissed by a surfeit of food and drink. Since Comedo's army had captured a small Collosnon baggage train when they raised the siege of the High Castle, there was no shortage of either.
Finally the only men in the hall not dead drunk were those at the High Table, including Jeferies, Comedo, Comedo's ring-bearer Valarkin, the Rovac warriors Elkor Alish and Morgan Hearst, the wizards Phyphor, Garash and Miphon, and a few favoured warriors, including Durnwold, Hearst's protege. These worthies had restrained themselves earlier in the evening, but, with their social inferiors no longer present to bear witness, they were overindulging themselves with a vengeance.
Morgan Hearst, drunken, boastful, was telling how he killed the dragon Zenphos: 'Through the eye. The eye! You should have heard the bellow. Louder than thunder, hear me true. Then it thrashed like the big sea-sunder which snaps a ship's keel. Hope was just a jest then: I knew for certain its death-agony would kill me. By the singing knives, I sang my terror then. But luck – luck was with me.'
'So you lived,' said Jeferies.
'Oh, the night is young,' said Hearst. 'We've not even started living yet.'
'Of course he lived,' said Durnwold. 'And he threw down the dragon's false eye – a ruby as big as your head. I can vouch for it: I was there when the ruby fell.'
T lived, yes,' said Hearst. 'But coming down again -that was another story. Worm holes, drop shafts, stones and darkness, oh, there was no end to it. I could find my way back up again easy enough, even in the dark. But to find the way down in the first place – why, it was almost as bad as the climb.'
'But he made it,' said Durnwold. 'He made it. A toast, I say, to Morgan Hearst, warrior of Rovac, dragon- killer!'
Goblets were lifted and the toast was drunk, except by the wizards, who could hardly toast a Rovac warrior – history could not be forgotten as easily as that.
'Truly,' said Jeferies, 'We are fortunate to sit together at one table, wizards and warriors, heroes and princes. There has never been a gathering like this in Trest for ten generations.'
'Twenty!'
'Thirty!'
'Ever!'.
'For certain,' said Jeferies. 'Now, I wouldn't like you to leave here without some entertainment worth remembering. Fortunately, we have here something entirely unique, the magician Lemmy Blawert. Bring in the conjurer!'
In came Lemmy Blawert, a sly, greasy, dingy little man with a horse-hair wig, a forked beard, a silver earring and a tarnished lower-lip ring. He limped forward, grinning, his body shapeless under grey and greasy robes. He bowed to Phyphor.
'Who is this individual?' said Phyphor.
'One of the world's wonders,' declared Jeferies, smiling. 'I trust he'll not disappoint you.'
'He looks a regular rat-rapist,' said Phyphor, in idiomatic Estral; since reaching Estar, the wizards' close dealings with the people had given them a fair grasp of Estral, the native language of the region, besides improving their command of the Galish Trading Tongue.
'Laugh you may,' said Jeferies, 'but Lemmy Blawert will show you a thing or two.'
Lemmy Blawert took out a pack of cards and fanned them out so only their backs could be seen.
'Take a card, master, any card.'
Phyphor hesitated, then took one.
'It's the fool,* said Lemmy Blawert with a grin and a cackle.
Phyphor flicked the card over: it was the fool.
'Put it back, master, anywhere any,' said Lemmy Blawert, setting the pack down on the table. 'I'm not touching so there'll be no fiddling, no fooling.'
Again Phyphor hesitated, then he slid the fool into the middle of the pack. Lemmy Blawert produced a wand.
'Rowan this is this wand, rowan, sacred to the mysteries. You'll see a mystery now tonight.'
He passed the wand over the cards once, twice, thrice.
'No touching so no fiddling, as you see masters, see me see, no touching, no fiddling. Now pick the top card, master.'
Phyphor turned over the top card. It was the fool. There were shouts of applause. Lemmy Blawert aped a bow then tucked the cards away inside his robes.
'I'll see those cards,' said Garash, reaching into the magician's robes. Then he swore, wrenching his hand away. Bright blood flashed where one finger had been torn open.
'It's the rat, master,' said Lemmy Blawert apologetically. 'He don't like strangers much. But here's the cards for you, master.'
He reached into his clothing and with a flourish scattered cards over the table: emperors, dragons, heroes, soldiers and a single fool. He left them where they fell.
'Dice, anyone? I've two dice to roll for your money with even odds. For me, the one-eyed one, the six-eyed six. A one wins for me, a six wins for me, and any roll where there's one and one or one and six or six and six. Even odds I'll give you. I win if one shows or six shows or both show. Whoever rolls against me has the numbers two, three, four and five. Even odds and fair dice.'
Lemmy Blawert retreated to a corner to roll dice with those prepared to wager with him. Miphon bandaged Garash's finger with a strip torn from a napkin.
'So you're off tomorrow,' said Jeferies.
'Heenmor has stolen a long march on us,' said Elkor Alish. 'We must travel fast.'
Perhaps they would find Heenmor hiding out in the Kikashi Hills, but Phyphor had already suggested that the renegade wizard might be running for Stronghold Handfast. That abandoned castle in the east, deserted by its last owners in days long forgotten by both the written word and the spoken, lay on the Central Plateau within the circle of the Ringwall Mountains. To get there, Heenmor would have to reach the Fleuve River, travel downstream to Ep
