have no idea why he’s coming. No one’s had the courtesy to tell me. Yes, it is absolutely outrageous. What’s that?’
He listened, head tilted, fingers on temples.
‘I’m not sure I agree, father. My inclination is simply to refuse him entry. It’s not as though there’s any official business that…Why should I let it go ahead? I understand the need for caution, but…Hmm? Ah, yes. I see.’
Melyobar pondered the King’s counsel. ‘You’re right,’ he decided. ‘He can come. Whether he leaves is another matter. And as you say, soon that won’t matter. Nothing will.’ He bent to listen again. ‘Yes, very close. But I take your point. The sooner it gets underway, the better.’
He rose. ‘Thank you, father. As ever, your guidance has proved most valuable. Pardon? Yes, of course I’ll keep you informed.’
The Prince backed away respectfully, then turned and left the room.
On exiting, his entourage fell in. Eight hand-picked bodyguards, a personal secretary, a manservant, a scribe, a senior mage, the mage’s apprentice, a healer, two message-carriers, and a pair of baton-wielding vanguards to ensure his way was clear. The usual complement of personnel.
He stated his destination and the mob moved off with him cocooned inside.
It didn’t take them long to arrive at the sorcerers’ quarters. As they approached the very door Welst and Nechen had used earlier, it opened and the sorcerer Okrael stepped out. Seeing the procession bearing down immobilised him, but he had the presence of mind to bow.
‘Just the man,’ Melyobar puffed, winded from the short trip. He let his entourage scrutinise the wizard for imposture, then waved them aside.
‘Sire,’ Okrael greeted him uneasily.
‘How goes the work? Are we on schedule?’
‘It’s progressing well, Majesty. Only…’
‘Yes? There are no hold-ups, I hope?’
‘No, sire. It’s just that…’
‘Spit it out, man!’
‘It’s dangerous.’
‘I know that.’
‘I mean, sire, it presents a danger to everyone, not just whichever enemy Your Highness may choose to turn it on.’
‘This isn’t the first time you’ve dared to question the workings of the project, is it…’ The Prince blanked.
‘Okrael, sire.’
‘…is it, Okrael?’
‘I wouldn’t presume to question anything, Highness. My only concern is the safety of our own people.’
‘Do you presume to think I’m unconcerned about the well-being of my subjects?’
‘No, sire, of course not.’
‘Don’t force me to question your loyalty, wizard. You’re a very small cog in the wheel I have turning here. It’ll spin as well without you.’
‘Yes, Majesty.’ The colour had gone out of Okrael’s face.
‘There’s no reason why what you’re creating shouldn’t be effective?’
‘No, sir.’
‘And the work is going well, you say?’
‘There have been no hitches, sire.’
‘Good. Then there shouldn’t be a problem about speeding up the timetable.’
‘Sire?’
‘You adepts have spent far too long on this. I’m minded to set a date for deploying your handiwork.’
‘May I ask when, Your Majesty?’
‘I’m thinking that around the time of the new moon would be suitable.’
‘That’s…just a few weeks, sire.’
‘Yes.’ Melyobar’s face cracked into a gleeful grin. ‘Wonderful, isn’t it?’
19
The sun hadn’t risen high enough to burn off the mist clinging to the ocean.
Despite the hour, the quayside was buzzing with activity. Three ships were at anchor; one was the packet that had brought Caldason to the Diamond Isle, the others were similar sized vessels. A line of men chained provisions to them.
Further along the quay, five people were gathered: Caldason, Serrah, Kutch, Darrok and Pallidea.
‘Do you really think this is going to work?’ Serrah said.
‘It should,’ Darrok replied. ‘It cost me a small fortune.’
‘Then it’s good of you to contribute it.’
‘I was keeping it for emergencies. I guess that’s what we can call this.’
‘How will it know where to go?’ Caldason wondered. ‘The Resistance are hardly going to be using the same hideouts, are they?’
‘It’ll be attuned to a person, not a place. As I said, it’s a top-quality glamour.’
‘Who’s it going to search for? Karr?’
‘With the best will in the world, he wasn’t in good health when we last saw him. So I thought we’d go for someone younger, fitter; and in a position to pass on the message. Quinn Disgleirio seemed a good choice.’
Caldason nodded. ‘Makes sense.’
‘Ironic, though,’ smiled Darrok.
‘Why?’ Serrah asked.
‘I don’t think Disgleirio’s overly fond of me.’
‘He’s a traditionalist,’ Caldason explained. ‘Not the kind to approve of somebody with a reputation like yours.’
‘He wouldn’t be the first to think ill of me. It goes with the territory.’
‘So what are we waiting for?’ Serrah said.
‘Phoenix. This isn’t the kind of glamour anybody can prime. It needs a sorcerer.’
‘He’ll be here,’ Kutch volunteered. ‘He was finishing off his studies when I saw him earlier.’
‘Well, I wish he’d get a move on.’ Darrok shivered. ‘It’s damn cold out here.’
‘You won’t freeze,’ Caldason told him. ‘Here he comes.’
A wagon arrived, depositing Phoenix. He swept up to them with the vigour of a much younger man, robes whipping in the wind.
‘You have it?’ he said without preamble.
‘Here.’ Darrok held out a cube on the palm of his hand. The cube was reddish, and made of no easily recognisable material, though it most closely resembled a soft wood. Its surfaces were inscribed with intricate symbols.
Phoenix took it and cupped it in his hands, as if warming wax. When he opened his hands, it was malleable. He produced a thin black strand and began gently working it into the softened material.
‘What’s that?’ Caldason said.
‘A lock of Disgleirio’s hair,’ the sorcerer replied.
‘That was something you just happened to have, was it?’
‘I’ve quite a collection of body-sheddings from Resistance members-hair, nail clippings, flakes of skin-against an eventuality like this. It ensures the glamour homes in on the right target. I can see what you’re thinking, Reeth. Don’t worry; I haven’t got anything of you filed away.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘Now, if you don’t mind…’
They fell silent while Phoenix continued with his preparations. Once he had the strand of hair embedded, he
