the thaw, could your Council Guard defeat them?”
“With the Icehammers, they’ve got about eight hundred armsmen. That is close to matching the strength of the Council Guard and the allied merchant companies.” Edelmark shrugged. “Of course, many of the Hulmaster troops are ill-equipped militia and wouldn’t stand up well to our professional armsmen. But we have to assume that any loyalists remaining in Hulburg would rise in support of a Hulmaster army, possibly shifting the odds against us.”
Rhovann thought that his captain was a little too quick to dismiss the quality of the Hulmaster troops, but he didn’t want the man starting at phantoms. “My runehelms are nearly a hundred strong now. They would make our victory certain, would they not?”
The mercenary captain twisted his mouth into a small smile. “Nothing is certain in war, my lord mage. But I have a hard time imagining how the Hulmasters could beat that many of your gray warriors. They’re formidable opponents. Could you commit so many to the field?”
“What else would I do with them?” Rhovann asked.
“Some forces must be left to protect Griffonwatch and Daggergard, and keep order in the town. I don’t trust the Cinderfists, regardless of what the Vaasans might promise. Valdarsel seemed to be the only one who could keep them in check, and now that he’s dead, they’re all too likely to riot and start looting the town as soon as our backs are turned. For that matter, I’m not sure that we’ve completely suppressed the Hulmaster loyalists. There may be more of them than we’ve seen so far.”
“The Cinderfists do not concern me.” An unruly mob in Hulburg’s poorer quarters was troublesome, but without the priests of Cyric directing their efforts, they were simply ruffians, and didn’t pose a lasting threat to Rhovann’s control of the city. In fact, leaving them to roam unchecked might prove useful, since they’d likely harass native Hulburgans who might otherwise rise in support of the Hulmasters. Despite all of the plunder the Cinderfists had been allowed to strip from the native loyalists, they still clamored for more. “Who else might side with the Hulmasters?”
“The Thentians might take a more active role,” Edelmark answered. “Some of the merchant companies are unreliable. And it’s possible that a third party like the Mulmasterites might attempt to seize the city while we’re busy fending off the Hulmasters. But that isn’t likely until the ice is gone and the port opens again.”
At least the Vaasans are dealing with me instead of the Hulmasters, Rhovann reflected. He gazed out of the arrow slit overlooking the gray-shrouded town below the castle, flexing his metal hand unconsciously. Geran’s army didn’t frighten him since he was clearly in the stronger position for now, but there were many interests colliding in Hulburg, and he couldn’t guarantee that some of them wouldn’t align against him if the right circumstances arose. If enough of them did so, it was far from inconceivable that Geran and his wretched family might unseat him. All things considered, Rhovann much preferred to deal in certainties. Perhaps he could take steps to fix some of the unknowns Edelmark feared, and eliminate variables that might otherwise provide the Hulmasters with a chance to succeed in their desperate gambit.
“Thank you, Captain. That is all,” he said. Edelmark touched his knuckle to his brow and went back to his duties; Rhovann stood on the battlements, gazing out at the town-his domain, to order and arrange as he saw fit- for a short time before returning to his laboratory to work on the next group of runehelms.
For the next few hours, he weighed Edelmark’s advice and the reports of his spies as he labored. It seemed likely that he’d have to commit many of his runehelms to meet the Hulmaster attack when it came, and that of course would leave the city vulnerable to the threats posed by the Cinderfists or the Hulmaster loyalists. The Cinderfists were in hand, or so he thought; it depended on whether he could trust Terov. But his mind kept turning to the unanswered question of Geran Hulmaster’s whereabouts. Geran had already demonstrated the ability to slip into Hulburg whenever it pleased him. He’d be wise to come up with a counter to that potential threat.
“Bastion, I have an errand for you,” he said, making his decision. “Bring me Mirya Erstenwold-alive and unharmed. I wish to have a word with her. If she is not at her home, return for further instructions.”
The golem inclined its head, then turned and padded away. Rhovann put Bastion out of his mind, and turned his attention to the work at hand. The latest group of runehelms was almost finished; he had one more crucial step to see to. He went to a circle of silver runes inlaid in the workroom floor, and began to chant an incantation. The room around him began to grow dim, the shadows lengthening and taking on strange new shapes, and the air grew cold; light and warmth had little power in this place. Dark currents of power that Rhovann could barely perceive under most circumstances suddenly twisted into sharply defined focus, ready to his hand. He bared his teeth in a cold smile; here, in this realm, he was at his strongest. The spell of transference complete, he stepped from his silver circle into the Plane of Shadow.
The shadow workroom resembled his own workroom in the harmach’s castle, but that was the way of the Shadowfell. It had little true existence of its own, and merely imitated the daylight world-although never perfectly. Many of the furnishings and accoutrements from his workroom weren’t present here, or stood in the wrong place. Likewise, there were things present in the Shadow that didn’t exist in the living world version of this chamber. Before him, a complicated apparatus of silver coils and dark glass seethed slowly with a thick black substance. Rhovann approached the device, placed a rune-carved mold of silver beneath it, and carefully decanted eight marble-sized drops of liquid ebon into the impressions. Within moments the drops congealed into lustrous shadowy pearls, fixed in their form. “Good,” he murmured aloud. Then he returned to the silver circle and reversed his incantation, shifting himself back to the normal world. The shadows faded, and the air grew warm again.
Rhovann looked down at his shadow pearls, studying them for any imperfections. He found none. Satisfied, he carried them over to the great copper vats in which his runehelms grew. Murmuring potent spells, he took a shadow pearl and pressed it into the damp gray clay of each runehelm’s uncovered face, otherwise devoid of any features at all. Setting his mold aside, he took blank visors and affixed them to the empty faces of each of his new creations, whispering more words of power over the creatures to awaken the shadow pearls that would animate them.
A small commotion by the door of his laboratory caught his attention. He ignored it until he finished the last of the spells required. Then he brushed off his hands and looked up; Bastion stood waiting with Mirya Erstenwold, one great hand clamped around her upper arm. Rhovann noticed that her hands were bound behind her back and she’d been gagged, but her eyes were bright and furious. “Ah, there you are,” he said. “You may remove her gag, Bastion.”
The golem obediently undid the gag. Mirya spluttered as it came free, working her jaw with a wince of pain. “What do you want of me?” she demanded. “You’ve no right to send your monster off to fetch me whenever you feel like it!”
“I thought we might have a brief chat, Mistress Erstenwold,” he answered.
“You sold my daughter and me to pirates, you black-hearted bastard. I’ve nothing to say to you!”
Rhovann shrugged. “It would have been easier to have the two of you killed, Mistress Erstenwold; it was a matter of some inconvenience to spare your lives. I did so because I take little pleasure in wanton killing.” She glared at him, but he thought there was a shadow of fear behind her anger now. He sighed, and went on. “You have seen Geran Hulmaster since his exile, haven’t you?”
“You know that I have,” she replied. “As I told Edelmark, he wanted to see how I was getting along. He didn’t share any of his plans with me.”
“I’m sure. Well, let me come to the point. I expect that sometime within the next few tendays Geran may slip into Hulburg and contact you again. You will inform me at once should he do so.”
“Edelmark’s already threatened me, Rhovann.”
“Oh, you don’t understand. This is not a threat. It is a statement of fact.” Rhovann stepped close, and drew his wand with his silver hand. Mirya’s eyes widened in fright, but he touched the tip of his wand to her forehead and began a spell of domination. She shuddered in sudden panic and tried to pull away, but Bastion held her motionless, unable to retreat. The mage locked his eyes with hers, and bent the full power of his magic against her. She fought, and fought hard, her will surprisingly strong for someone untrained in the magical arts. For sixty heartbeats or more they struggled in silence, until finally her defenses crumbled under the relentless pressure of his enchantment. Her eyes, blazing in anger before, suddenly went blank and glassy, and her chin drooped toward the floor.
“When next you see Geran Hulmaster, you will do everything in your power to betray him to me,” Rhovann whispered in her ear. “Delay him in your home, lure him into meeting you in a specific place, seduce him-whatever you must do in order to keep him or maneuver him to a place where he can be caught. All you need do to summon me is to tell any runehelm-the helmed guardians in the streets-to tell me that you have Geran. Do you understand so far?”
