By reflex, he made to catch it. The ball sailed over his outstretched hand. It unravelled and became a streamer. Then it grew indistinct, and seemed to alter in form as it fluttered against his upper body.
Grentor gave an audible intake of breath. The scarf was wrapped around his neck. Only it was no longer a scarf. What had been embroidered silk was now a three-headed brimstone-coloured viper with a black zigzag stripe running the length of its scaly body. It constricted, choking off the priest's air. Forked tongues whipped from each of its hissing heads. Wickedly sharp fangs sought his flesh.
Despite knowing it had to be a glamour, Grentor began to panic. He tried to cry out, but only managed a croak. His face turned ashen. The snake squeezed tighter.
Hacher had looked on in horror. Now he moved in the priest's direction.
Jennesta made a casual hand gesture.
The viper disappeared. Grentor let out a sigh of relief. He staggered a few steps to the room's large oak table and leaned against it, palms pressed on its surface, head down. He was panting.
The scarf was in Jennesta's hand. She put it back on, heedless of the little drama playing out in front of her. 'There's no excuse,' she said. 'The magic flows strong through this land, pure and powerful. Unlike some places I've been.'
If Hacher and Grentor wondered what she meant, they were too awed or too discomfited to comment.
'Heed me, priest,' Jennesta continued. 'Things will improve. Because High Clerics can find themselves demoted to humble brothers. And worse.'
Grentor nodded, still dazed. He rubbed at his neck, and there was fear in his eyes.
A silence descended. It didn't seem to bother Jennesta, but Hacher found it awkward. For want of anything better to say, and incongruous as it sounded, he heard himself mouthing, 'You must think me a poor host, my Lady. Can I offer you refreshments?'
She fixed him with a stare he had difficulty holding. 'The refreshments I take are of a special order, and something I enjoy privately. But that does remind me…' She looked to the doors and, as if bending to her will, they opened.
Her pair of mindless bodyguards hobbled in. One had an ornately carved wooden box under his arm. This was presented to Jennesta. When she opened it, the minders' usual sluggish manner became something like excited. They licked their cracked lips with black, mottled tongues, and began to drool.
Jennesta fished something out of the box. It was russet in colour, and looked like a chunk of desiccated meat, or perhaps a greatly engorged worm. She dangled it at arm's length. In what appeared to be a well practised movement, the bodyguards sank to their knees, as though begging. She tossed the morsel.
There was a brief scuffle. Then one of the minders was stuffing the meat into his mouth and crunching it with pleasure. His companion was aggrieved, but brightened when she threw him a titbit of his own. They sprawled on the floor, chewing earnestly, brown juice running down their chins.
Jennesta noticed Hacher staring at the open box. 'They require sustenance,' she explained. 'I also find it convenient to neuter my subordinates. So in a spirit of waste not, want not…'
Hacher gaped at her. 'You mean…'
'Privy parts are very nutritious. I can attest to that myself.' She continued feeding them like dogs.
Grentor's complexion went grey. He put a hand over his mouth and turned his head.
Hacher steadied himself with a deep breath. 'What do you want us to do about the situation here, my lady?' he asked.
'I know orcs of old. However placid this Acurial variety may seem, I know what they're capable of. Particularly when exposed to a malignant influence from elsewhere, as I've reason to believe is happening.' Jennesta flung another piece of meat. 'What Taress needs,' she said, as her minions bit noisily into their treat, 'is a reign of terror.'
19
The sun rose blood red. A run of fine days looked threatened by drab clouds and chill breezes.
The weather was of no concern to a group concealed among the trees on the peak of a hill overlooking Taress. They were a motley collection of beings that would have dismayed both humans and orcs had they been seen. Which was why they employed means both practical and magical to make sure they weren't.
One of their number required solitude for the task she had to perform. At a distance from the others, she knelt by the edge of a pool. She had sprinkled certain herbs and compounds over its still waters while reciting the necessary incantation. The pool had bubbled and seethed, and took on the quality of a finely polished mirror.
Now Pelli Madayar of the elfin race looked down at the image of the human Karrell Revers. Through the power of sorcery she and the principal of the Gateway Corps conversed across dimensions.
'I think I made a mistake, she confessed. 'I should have approached the Wolverines in Maras-Dantia.'
'Why didn't you?' Revers asked.
'There was little opportunity. The land was in such turmoil. I was afraid that if we revealed ourselves to them it would have been seen as hostile.'
'If that was your best judgement you acted wisely.'
'But because things in Maras-Dantia were so chaotic it might have been a better place to approach the warband, and do battle with them if necessary. Here, the potential for harming innocents is greater.'
'That you want to retrieve the instrumentalities by peaceful means does you credit, Pelli. But bear in mind that retrieve them you must, by whatever means.'
'Let me try it my way.'
'I'm content with that. But should you meet opposition you have what it takes to overcome it.'
'This is a much more regulated, oppressed world than Maras-Dantia. There are only two races, orcs and humans; and the orcs are cruelly subjugated. Our freedom of movement is greatly restricted. We wouldn't last a moment here without being spotted.'
'Then use the art to cloak yourselves.'
'We will if necessary. But you know how draining that can be.'
'I trust your discretion. And Pelli… I appreciate that you feel some sympathy for downtrodden orcs, and that's praiseworthy. But you must put that out of your mind. These creatures have a potential for savagery unmatched by virtually any other race. Be sure your compassion isn't misplaced.'
'I understand.'
'This is all the more important because of something that's just come to our attention.'
'Sir?'
'Our seers have picked up an anomaly in your sector.'
'Another set of instrumentalities?'
'We're not sure. But it's certainly a source of great magical power, and not far from your present location. It could be an individual, or a group. We can't tell at this stage.'
'Another player?'
'Perhaps. Whatever it is, you need to be doubly cautious.'
'We will.'
'What are your plans?'
'At the moment the group's recovering from the transference. We'll begin our surveillance shortly. As soon as an opportunity arises to confront the warband, we'll take it.'
'Good. Meantime, let's hope the Wolverines don't do anything that might lead to the instrumentalities falling into even more malign hands.'
'So we're agreed,' Stryke whispered. 'If either of us falls, the other takes the stars. If we both go down, it's Dallog's job.'
'And if he's not around?' Coilla wondered.
'One of the grunts.'
'Anybody but Haskeer, eh?'
'I'd trust Haskeer with my life. The stars are something else.'
