Tythonnia stretched and stifled a groan. The hot bathwater soaked through her, numbing her muscles and edging her toward exhausted sleep. There was still much to do, but until the water grew cold or black with filth, she would stay here.
As she luxuriated in its steaming warmth, she examined the bone-lace key that Berthal had given her. She turned it end over end and marveled at its delicate design. He’d been loath to part with the three books stolen from the Black Robes, but what the key promised to unlock was of far greater value. Tythonnia had happily offered her help and was grateful when he told her he knew about them and their mission. That thrust everything out into the open, and Tythonnia couldn’t wait until she was reunited again with the renegades. She tired of the duplicity, but slowly, she was ridding herself of the lies.
The next two days were spent in a blur of activity. Tythonnia, Ladonna, and Par-Salian, with barely a word to one another, spoke to Highmage Astathan together then each in private. They related their journey, including their encounter with the animated dolls and the flight through the High Clerist’s Tower. They told him everything they knew about the renegade hunters, about the attack at the tower and again in Palanthas and about the murder of Thoma at the hands of Dumas. That troubled Astathan deeply. He promised to speak with the other masters about the attacks, but as of that moment, he had no choice but to send out more hunters to bring Hort and Dumas back for questioning.
Unfortunately, he could not address the incident with Dumas directly until he’d cleared up other matters first. In particular, he had to mend fences with Palanthas following the debacle with the Thieves Guild and the fire in Smiths’ Alley. The Wizards of High Sorcery were also dispatching scouts from Palanthas to track Berthal’s camp.
Afterward, the three companions made their reports to the masters of the orders. Ladonna reported to Reginald Diremore through a scrying crystal in Arianna’s study. He didn’t hide his displeasure when she told him about securing one book only and was about to dismiss her for having performed “barely well enough to remain in the order” when she interrupted him. It was a moment of panic, of seeing her hard-earned position slip away. She couldn’t allow that to happen.
“I seduced Par-Salian,” she said. Immediately, the words sank down into the pit of her stomach, and she almost burned with shame.
I don’t care for him that way, she thought. I don’t-I mean …
Reginald cocked an eyebrow in intrigue, but Ladonna wasn’t about to let him steal her moment.
“I have his ear. Me … nobody else,” Ladonna said. “If you want me to influence him in the future, I suggest we discuss what the order can offer me in exchange for that influence.”
That brought a smirk to Reginald’s face. That was twice she’d backed him into a corner and twice he was smart enough to know when he was beaten. He would discuss it later with her, he said, as he studied her under his black eye, but her future was more promising than it had been a few minutes earlier.
Ladonna continued staring absently at the scrying crystal long after it had gone dark.
Par-Salian performed exactly as was expected of him, which was to say he met with the highmage’s lofty expectations. He had kept the group together, survived several brushes with death, he was able to give them the position of Berthal’s camp, and he had returned everyone home safely. But it was obvious Par-Salian didn’t consider the mission successful. They had located Berthal but were in no position to capture him. The group almost shattered apart on several occasions. Indeed, they had almost died and Par-Salian’s sympathies for the enemy forced him to question himself.
Highmage Astathan listened, never nodding or shaking his head, never smiling nor frowning. He listened while Par-Salian confessed to those terrible things, and only when the younger man was done did Astathan speak.
“Never apologize for the hardships you face. Never apologize for questioning. The test we take is but one of many life throws our way. What matters is weathering it intact, regardless of the scars you earn from the experience. What matters is having the strength to ask the questions and to face the answers with a straight back. You did both. Par-Salian, I am proud of you. I may not have been your
“But I questioned my own loyalties. I questioned the test.”
“As well you should,” Astathan said. “The test is a choice, and all choices demand examination. You were not forced into it. You took it willingly, as a show of devotion. But you took it knowing what to expect. That was a choice, to take the test to show others you earned the right to learn the secrets of the greater arcane. Berthal is smart and compassionate, but his demand to rid us of the test is the cry of an over-protective mother. Nobody learns by being sheltered their entire life. Nobody respects something if it’s given to them without struggle. Rarely has a great thing been given away. It’s always been earned. And you, my boy … you earned your place here today. You should be proud.”
Par-Salian nodded gratefully and contemplated Astathan’s words and praise. Still, some doubt shadowed his heart, for there was one thing he kept to himself: he said nothing of his affair with Ladonna.
Tythonnia’s brush with Belize was decidedly less pleasant. She had no love or patience for the ridiculous little man, and he was not impressed with her performance. As master of the order, he proved himself the petty tyrant others knew him to be.
“One book?” he said through the scrying crystal, his pinched face hovering in the murk. “I’m glad Yasmine wasn’t here to see this travesty,” he said. “All that wasted effort for one book. I pray you will beg for the highmage’s forgiveness because this failure is unacceptable.”
Tythonnia’s patience had frayed thin, but she couldn’t afford to annoy the master of her order.
“I beg your forgiveness,” Tythonnia said, looking down at her feet. “I failed you, Master, and I failed the order. Please … give me a few more days to see if I can get the books back.”
“I should recall you right now,” he said.
“I can get the books back. I know I can,” she said.
“How?”
“Leave that to me,” she responded. “Better you don’t know in case this goes badly for me. You can say I acted on my own.”
Belize pondered it a moment before nodding. “Very well. But get caught, and I’ll personally push for your execution. Understood?”
“Yes, thank you!” Tythonnia said, doing her best to feign gratitude.
“You have two days,” he said. He waved his hand in front of the scrying crystal, and his image was swallowed by the mists.
Tythonnia spit on the floor and was glad to be rid of him. Soon she would be free of all pretenses. She hoped it would happen before Amma Batros came to Wayreth to visit her. Tythonnia knew she could lie to the others, but Amma Batros-and perhaps even Ladonna and Par-Salian-they were another matter.
The Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth was one of the few remaining legacies of the power that the Wizards of High Sorcery once held. Its four sibling towers were either destroyed or sealed against all intrusion, leaving Wayreth as the last of the great repositories of knowledge. Before the Cataclysm, it had been the first one built, but afterward, it was a sanctuary for the beleaguered orders. It was a haven against all the spite and hate the world possessed against wizards for their perceived role in bringing about the Cataclysm; it was the one place they wouldn’t be harried and murdered.
That was, until Astathan became highmage and rebuilt the respectability of the wizards. He forced them to leave the confines of Wayreth and again to travel the world, where Wyldling magic and renegade sorcery had blossomed to the benefit of a select handful. The wizards sought students and opened academies. More important, they showed the world they would no longer hide but neither should they be feared. The world went on fearing them, however, though they stopped murdering them.
Because of its history and significance in a wizard’s life, the tower’s crypts also housed some of its greatest members. Not everyone who called himself a wizard was laid to rest there, but most masters and highmages were.
