Arch Wizard

produce. That it has three lords who all claim to be Lord of Ironthorn, but that you, Burrim Hammerhand, stand foremost. That Ironthorn seems to be all river-valleys.' Rod shrugged. 'That's all. Truly.'

The Lord Leaf pounced again, his sharp words coming out in a rush before Lord Hammerhand could ask something else. 'Yet you claim the Forestmother sent you here for some holy purpose?'

Rod shrugged. 'No. As I said, magic that was not my own brought me here. I know not whose magic, or why. I am trusting that the gods did this, and now await their message to me, to tell me what I should do. I will be happy to talk with you-all of you here-honestly and openly, to learn all I can of Ironthorn. I am seeking a particular Aumrarr, wherever she may be. I intend no blasphemy, nor any attack on any Hammerhand or ally of the Hammerhands.'

'Doesn't sound like a wizard to me,' a courtier muttered, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

'Liars never do,' someone else grunted.

Lord Hammerhand cast a sharp look in the direction of that comment, and silence fell again in his throne chamber.

'Lord Archwizard,' he asked Rod, 'how well do you know your fellow Dooms, and what do you think of them?'

'Not much,' Rod replied, 'and… not much.'

Someone chuckled, in the courtiers crowding the tiers of benches.

'Lord Hammerhand,' Rod added, 'all of the Dooms, I think, have tried to kill me. One imprisoned and tortured me. That was Arlaghaun-'

There was a collective intake of breath that almost rose into a shriek. Rod rushed on.

'— and he is dead now, I believe, though what Lorontar-'

Another gasp that was almost a shriek. There was open, quivering fear on the Lord Leaf's face, and he was drawing back from Rod as if from a snarling wild beast.

'— has done this last little while hints that dead Dooms can be as active as the living. The one called Malraun is openly my foe-'

This time, an almost-approving murmur arose from the benches.

'— and I only know Narmarkoun exists at all because he and Malraun fight each other so fiercely. All of the Dooms, so far as I can tell, are cruel and manipulative tyrants, and I like none of them. I am not like them.'

'Oh? How so?'

'Power seems to be everything to them,' Rod replied, casting a meaningful look at the priest. 'Power, and destroying their foes. I come from… very far away, where we do things differently.'

Lord Hammerhand merely lifted his eyebrows in query to that, and Rod explained, 'All men and women have rights-are held to be equals, under the law-and those who wield power ruthlessly must do so with more subtlety. Where I come from, we see magic very, very rarely. If the Dooms behaved there as they do here, they would be regarded as dangerous madmen.'

'Very much as they are here,' the lord said gravely. 'Do you think your spells can defeat them?'

Rod met Lord Hammerhand's gaze and said firmly, 'No.'

That caused another stir among the courtiers, and made the Lord Leaf's eyes flash.

'I… believe one or more of the Dooms has cast fell magic on me,' Rod lied, choosing his words carefully as the priest strode forward again, triumph clear on his face. 'Magic that prevents me from remembering all of my spells. Yet as your two guards who found me can attest, I can work magic. Powerful magic. Not wanting to blast down castles unintentionally, change something that should not be changed, or kill someone who may be a friend, I am trying to be very careful. Which is why those who threaten me, like the Holy Lord Leaf-'

Rod bowed gravely in Jaklar's direction.

'— endanger us all. I have no desire whatsoever to do any harm to Hammerhold or anyone in it, but I fear smoking ruin may be its future if someone wounds me or tries to do me harm.'

Some of the bowmen had started to raise and aim their weapons, but lowered them again hastily, frowning and casting looks at their lord, to learn his will.

Lord Hammerhand was frowning. 'Your spells-can you bring the dead back to life?'

Sudden, tense silence gripped the room.

'No, Lord,' Rod said sadly. 'Though more than once I have fervently wished I could.'

Courtiers sighed, and the lord's shoulders slumped, as if he'd been clinging to a slender hope that had now been snatched away.

'You came out of the forest,' he said quietly. 'Tell me; aside from Briszyk and Urlaun, did you see or fight any armored men there?'

There was a sudden, tense silence in the throne chamber.

Rod shook his head, knowing his answer was very important yet not hesitating. The truth. All I dare give is the truth. 'No, lord. I saw an Aumrarr-not the one I seek-killed and eaten by a lorn. I attacked and wounded it, but it flew away.'

His words had caused another murmur of excited talk. The lord of Hammerhold raised his eyebrows as if he wanted to hear more, but instead asked, 'So this Aumrarr you seek to rescue is the captive of the Doom called Malraun?'

Rod nodded.

'And magic brought you here to Ironthorn-that you know so little about-when you sought to reach her?'

Rod nodded again.

'Then, Lord Archwizard, be aware that we see little of the Dooms in Ironthorn, but all Ironthar know this much: that Malraun openly aids Lord Magrandar Lyrose, our hated rival. If this Aumrarr is in Ironthorn, she is in Lyrose hands, and can only be won free by your spells-or force of arms. We would welcome your doing battle with Lyrose knights, and so will aid you, if you dare go a-seeking her. Food we can give you, and guides; some few of our knights who face punishments, and can step aside from such fates if they do us this service, rendering you aid and the strength of their swords. Go with these bowmen now; they will take you to one of my most trusted warcaptains, Syregorn. Though grief hangs heavy on us just now, Hammerhold welcomes you, and will aid you in all you do against Lyrose.'

'Grief, lord?' Rod asked gently. 'I-'

'I do not wish to speak of it,' Lord Hammerhand said curtly, and turned away. 'May you prevail, Lord Archwizard, and destroy our foes in doing so.' He strode across the throne dais, heading for the leftmost of the closed doors opening onto it.

'Amteira, Lord Leaf? Attend us in the Map Chamber,' he ordered, laying his hand upon its handle.

Then he was gone, and courtiers were rising from their seats to stare curiously at Rod. The bowmen closed in around him, grim-faced, almost rushing him back out of the chamber again.

'What happened?' Rod asked. 'Who died?'

The nearest bowman gave him a curious look, half disbelief and half disgust. 'Thought you were a mighty wizard,' he snapped. 'Y'sound more like an idiot outland drover lost in Irontarl, to me.'

Rod shrugged and looked away. I AM an idiot of an outlander lost here and just blundering his way along. I wonder when everyone will realize that, and pounce?

Chapter Nine

A large, painstakingly-detailed map of Ironthorn sprawled across the circular table that filled the center of the room. More maps hung from the low rafters in cloth dust-gowns, each sewn to fit the map it guarded.

Among these dusty hangings, the warcaptains of Hammerhold stood silently waiting in the still air, their thoughts hidden behind guarded faces, just as they had stood in this map chamber many times before. Along one side of the table they stood: Syregorn, balding, scarred, and senior; swift, capable Darlok; and darkly handsome, stolid Tarlkond. Three patient statues.

A door opened and Lord Hammerhand shouldered in, his daughter and the priest of the Forestmother silent