the sword a surfeit of killing, but that was not a method he cared to employ; it was to avoid unnecessary killing that he wanted to dispose of the thing.
He spent the following day sitting in the King's Inn, drinking and talking with Scram. The reconstruction was continuing, but only slowly; the cold had made work difficult, and materials were running love-stone excepted. The embassy had been sent to Kholis, as planned. The petrified thief had been set up in the center of the marketplace on an elaborate pedestal of stone blocks from the Baron's dungeon. Galt, Garth, and the other overmen considered this to be a mistake, but Scram and Frima insisted that the pitiful figure was appropriate and admirable.
Another petrified villager had been found in a ruin nearby; apparently someone had had the misfortune to look out a window while the basilisk was being moved through the streets. This figure was not to become a public statue; even had it not broken in half when the house it was in collapsed in flames around it, it was much less attractive. The person in question had been a plump matron, bent over to peer around a shutter.
No one had known that this second petrification had occurred until the rubble had been cleared from the house. The victim had been a recluse, little liked by those who knew her at all. Garth still thought it odd that her absence could have gone unnoticed for the intervening months.
'I had hoped,' he remarked to Saram, 'that the death of the basilisk would remove the spell that it had cast upon its victims.'
'It would seem that magic is not as transitory as some tales would have it,' Saram replied.
'I suppose that if it were, then Shang's death would have ended the usefulness of his charms, and thereby freed the basilisk from my control.'
'And if that had happened, you might be a statue now yourself.'
'But on the other hand, these two, innocents would not.'
'Oh, you can't be sure; what if the basilisk had begun roaming, once freed, and eventually reached Skelleth?'
'That seems extremely unlikely.'
'Yes, it does. But then, the very existence of such a creature seems unlikely.'
'It does, doesn't it? Everything that's happened to me since I first came south seems unlikely. One strange event has followed another, almost as if they were planned.'
'Perhaps they were.'
'Perhaps they were, but by whom and how? Is it all a scheme of the Forgotten King's contrivance? If so, how did he influence me to ask the Wise Women of Ordunin the questions that would send me to him in the first place? If not he, then who? Have I become a pawn of the god of destruction? Is there some other power manipulating us all?'
'Perhaps it's fate; or destiny.'
'The Wise Women mentioned fate when last I spoke with them, fate and chance; I have never believed in fate, but only in chance.'
'Yet now you say that events don't appear to be shaped by chance. That would seem to leave fate, if your oracle's words were complete.'
'They probably weren't.'
'You don't trust these women?'
'They're overwomen, actually, despite their name, and I am not sure whether I trust them or not.'
'Perhaps you should go and speak with them again, and settle the matter once and for all. They might know how you can be freed of the sword.'
'They might, at that. They are, however, in Ordunin, where I am now an outlaw.'
'Do you know of any other oracles?'
'I'm not sure; I once met a seer, of sorts and of course there is the Forgotten King, who knows more than he should. There was also a priest in Dыsarra who was said to have special knowledge. None of these are even as trustworthy as the Wise Women.'
'I would say, then, that you would be well-advised to return to Ordunin, outlaw or not, and speak with your oracle. If you travel by night and stay clear of the city, can you not manage it?'
'Probably. I will think about it.'
He did think about it and by morning he had resolved to make the attempt.
Unfortunately, by morning the winter snows had begun, blowing down from the northern hills. This storm was wholly natural, but fierce enough that he decided travel would be foolhardy. He would wait it out, he told himself.
It was only after two days of tedium, sitting in the King's Inn worrying about the warbeasts' food supply- five of eleven, including Koros, had stayed in Skelleth when the others had returned to Ordunin-that it occurred to him that, if the sword could create storms, it might be able to control natural ones as well.
It could. He ripped the storm into tattered shreds of cloud and sputtering gusts of wind in ten minutes of concentration.
A foot of wet snow lay on the ground, but he thought Koros could handle that without undue difficulty. He set about gathering supplies.
With the ground under snow, game would be scarce along the way, and foraging difficult; furthermore, he did not dare to visit his home, which meant that he needed supplies for a round trip. Saram was reluctant to part with so much of the village's meager provisions.
Garth also wanted another sword, a more ordinary blade that he could use without worrying about whether he was controlling it or it was controlling him, a knife for skinning and dressing whatever game he might find, an axe to cut firewood, and various other tools that were in short supply in Skelleth. His friendship with Saram did not provide unlimited credit, and he found himself spending part of the Aghadite gold to purchase what he needed.
It took another two days before he felt himself properly equipped; but at last, one morning, he mounted his warbeast and rode out the North Gate toward the hills that marked the border of the Northern Waste.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The party sent to Ur-Dormulk consisted of Deriam, since he knew his own city better than anyone else; Shandiph, since he alone could use the spell that would show them the way to the crypt that held what they sought; Karag, who insisted upon accompanying them; and Thetheru of Amag, who refused to remain behind if Karag went. The four rode the finest horses in the High King's stable; Chalkara, with the aid of a subtle spell, acquired retroactive approval for this from the King an hour or so after the quartet had slipped quietly out.
The stealth was considered necessary because of the presence of the Baron of Sland. He had already protested the existence of secret meetings of wizards in the High King's castle and tried to force Karag to tell him what was under discussion. Only the presence of the other wizards had kept him from resorting to violence.
Two of his six soldiers had vanished since their arrival, and Karag suspected that the Baron was keeping his own secrets. His men did not desert; they did not dare.
Therefore, the four wizards had begun their journey an hour before dawn, while the Baron and his men slept. A simple spell of drowsiness kept the gatekeeper from noticing their departure.
Once out of the castle, they rode night and day, using invigorating spells to keep their horses alive and moving. Such travel was hard on the older two, Shandiph and Deriam, but did not seem to bother Karag at all-and Thetheru concealed his own fatigue rather than admit that Karag was more fit. Ordinarily, each would have avoided the use of so much magic so quickly, but with such a threat hanging over them and such a promise of greater power before them, it seemed foolish to worry about conserving relatively trivial resources.
They were slowed by the necessity of crossing the Great River, which they reached early in the second day, but they nevertheless managed to arrive at the gates of Ur-Dormulk by the sunset following their ferry ride.
It then became necessary to conceal their haste, and they struggled to appear as if nothing unusual were taking place-as if the four of them had decided on a casual visit to Deriam's home. They received curious glances from pedestrians as they made their way through the streets, while Karag and Thetheru displayed their own
