Dawnbringer

“I knew it,” said Ivor. He reached for the girl’s arm, then seemed to think better of it, and stood, looking awkward, his hand splayed near her elbow. “I knew that thing was cursed.”

She cocked her head up at him. “Cursed? I don’t think so. But that’s a powerful-and potentially very dangerous-nexus of magic. I was across the room, and I could feel it.”

She glanced at the door nervously. “Magaster sent me to spy on you, and to steal the bracelet if I could.”

A thrill of anger went through Gareth-and more: a not-unpleasant prickle of anticipation. “That old cheat. I should go and shake the coin I paid him out of his pockets.”

She shook her head. “That would be unwise. Magaster’s negotiating an alliance with the Dark Lord’s sect, and he seeks to become a power in Mulmaster. It’s easy to sink a trackless wanderer or two past the mouth of the bay with a boulder at their heels, and what possessions they have divided between Bane’s minions.”

Gareth paced the floor. Ivor was still staring at the girl, goggle-eyed as an astonished frog. “If he wanted the thing, why not strike me down there, within his bailiwick, and take it?”

“He didn’t know what to do. The kind of magic that thing manipulates is unlike anything he’s ever encountered. He wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about it even if he was honest, even if he wanted to. The mystery of it confounded him, and he’s not used to that. He told me to follow you, to find out what I could about it, where you might come from, where that thing you showed him came from. And if the opportunity arose, I was to steal it from you.”

Her gaze flickered over to his bed, and then down, to where his boots stood side by side at the foot. She pointed.

“It’s there, isn’t it?”

Gareth was impressed. He had secreted the bag with the bracelet in one boot, and the coin pouch in the other, and he didn’t think the mage’s apprentice meant his coin.

“You can tell where it is?”

“Yes-mind you, I know less than my master about such magic. But it has a powerful aura about it. And also …”

“What?”

She looked again, almost longingly, at the bracelet’s hiding place. “May I look at it?” Gareth saw her fingers twitch.

“Very well.” His knife was close at hand in case he needed it. He moved to stand beside Ivor at the door.

The mage’s apprentice stepped quickly across the room and picked up the left boot, upending it over his bed. The pouch landed on the mounded coverlet. She made a gesture with her forefinger and the blue glowball lowered, spreading its azure glow on the bed. Hesitantly she shook the bracelet out of its pouch and it lay there, looking, as the mage had said, like nothing impressive. She reached out her hand to the thing, hesitated, and drew back.

“And also?” queried Ivor.

She sighed and looked up. “You might have noticed I’ve a knack for locks.”

“It had not escaped our attention,” said Gareth.

“Locks and wards, making and breaking them. It’s my only talent, really. I may not know much, but I know about locks. And this”-she indicated the dull metal semicircle-“this is a lock, and also a key.”

Gareth and Ivor looked at each other quizzically. Ivor lifted an eyebrow, and Gareth turned back to the girl. “Why warn us? Why defy your master? I can’t imagine he’ll look on you kindly after this.”

She made a face. “I want to get away from the stink of Mulmaster, with its fish and rust and smoke,” she said. “And I know my master plans to join the devout of Bane, and if I’m to prosper here, I must bend my neck to them as well. And the thought turns my stomach.”

She sat on the bed, suddenly looking very young. “Magaster sees little use for locks and keys save to secure a room, and little use for me. He tolerates me against those times he needs me to steal something. He can’t understand the beauty of a well-constructed trip latch or a spell that works, bit by bit, on opening a door starting from the very grain of the wood. He certainly can’t appreciate this.” She picked up the bracelet gingerly between two fingers and placed it in her palm. “I can’t begin to imagine the skill of the people who constructed this.”

There was a pause.

“What’s your name?” Ivor asked her.

“And what do you want from us?” said Gareth.

She grinned up at them, looking even more catlike. “Jandi, Jandi M’baren. I thought if you had something like this, you might want to use it. And if you wanted to use it, that I might be able to help you.”

“Why would we need your help, Jandi?” asked Gareth. He felt Ivor stir by his side. Fool, he thought indulgently, to be charmed by a pair of pretty cat eyes.

She pursed her lips. “Do you know anything about locks? Do you know how a key can be made that will unfasten a man from the liver outward, and unlock his flesh with a word? Do you know how to ward a house so that each lock will whisper the name of the last being that opened it?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Well, I do,” she said. “And while I admit that the secrets of your pretty trinket here are beyond my knowledge, they won’t be for long. Just give me a little time.”

Gareth was intrigued. “What can you do with a key-or a lock-like that?”

She turned it over in her fingers. “There’s a great Power that runs through it. It keeps something shut and enclosed, and it is able to tap into it and magnify its own strength, and its ability to keep it imprisoned.” Jandi tilted her head and considered. “That’s very clever, you know. If it imprisons a living being, the entity’s struggles will only strengthen the lock. It would trap itself further, like a bird caught in a wire.”

Gareth felt a flare of excitement. He stepped closer to her. “Could you use it to secure something against all comers? A ship, maybe?” He thought of a ship of his own, a merchantman proofed against all of Ping’s ilk.

Why stop there? “Or a house. A big house. A …” Dream big. “A fortress.”

“Using the Power of whatever it imprisons?” She lifted it and looked through it like a keyhole. “I bet I could do it,” she said reflectively. “I bet I could.”

“I bet you could, too,” said Ivor, staring at her.

“Then Jandi M’baren and Ivor Beguine,” said Gareth. “By the Nine Hells, I think it’s time all of us got out of Mulmaster.”

Again he experienced awareness, like a flaming whip. This time Fandour seized it, ignoring the pain, and the burn faded away along with his connection to the Rhythanko. But before it did, he had a clear image graven on his mind-a creature of the strange plane held the Rhythanko and knew its nature-he knew it as few ever could. He clutched at the image, but it slipped away, leaving him bereft. For a long time Fandour floated static in the iron egg of his prison.

Then he turned his consciousness back to the Nexus, the place in the strange plane where over the centuries he’d been able to make contact, to touch those alien minds, and to begin to understand them. With understanding camecontrol. From one mind, if he was sufficiently rooted, he could reach out and touch another, both gathering information and influencing behavior.

In Faerun, his mind grew. He had infinite patience. It had taken an eon to realize he was imprisoned and to remember how that came to be, another to learn to send his consciousness to the plane where his avatar had wandered, another to begin to manipulate, one by one, the inhabitants there.

Eventually the net would be cast wide enough. Eventually he would find the Rhythanko and make it remember. Eventually he would be free.

Chapter Three

THE GIANT’S FIST, LATER JADAREN HOLD

1461 DR-THE YEAR OF THREE GODDESSES BLESSING

During the birthing of the land that mortal and fey would eventually call Faerun, the earth twisted and