Vorn was taken aback. “Leave?”
“You must. Yes, I know, Highness. The prospect of abandoning your conquest so quickly disturbs you. But shortly after you take leave of this place of evil, it will cease to exist forevermore. You will have wiped it from the face of the earth. Expunged it. And on the clean spot where it once stood, its fabulous treasures will lie waiting for you. You need only stoop to pick them up.”
“But if we leave, the castle guards …”
“They have gone, vanished through a thousand different portals. They will not return. And even if some do, they will be hard pressed to defend a castle that does not exist.”
Vorn nodded. “Aye, true enough.” A smile spread slowly across his face. “Can it be true, then? Have we triumphed?”
“Yes, Highness.
Althair said, “Would it not be better to say that we have all triumphed?”
“Of course,” Melydia said brusquely.
“It is to you whom we owe this conquest,” Vorn said. “Were it not for your expertise —”
“My sorcery,” she corrected. “I do not balk at the word.”
“Truly, sorcery such as the world has never seen.”
“In the service of the world’s greatest conqueror.”
Vorn took her hand. “My lady.”
Dax and Althair exchanged glances. Dax said, “Your pardon. I have many pressing duties. My men —”
“Yes,” Althair said. “If we may have your leave …?”
“Go,” Vorn said.
They left. At that point Vorn noticed Osmirik’s presence. “Scribe, do you agree with your mistress’s predictions?”
Osmirik took a moment to compose his answer. “Her Ladyship is wise beyond measure, Your Royal Highness. Everything that she says will happen, will likely happen. Even more than she says may happen.”
Vorn cocked an eyebrow. “What more?”
Osmirik glanced at Melydia, conscious of her glare.
“Alas, I cannot say, Highness.”
“Can not, or will not?”
“He is free to speak his mind,” Melydia said.
Osmirik’s dark eyebrows went up slightly.
“Then speak,” Vorn commanded.
“There is much danger,” Osmirik stated.
“I said as much,” Melydia said sharply.
“True, my lady,” Osmirik said. “You well know that this castle’s existence is maintained by great forces, forces that, once unleashed, may prove devastating.”
Melydia addressed Vorn. “That is why, Highness, you and your men must be well away.”
Vorn asked, “But what of you, my lady?”
“Do not fear for me. My sorcery will provide ample protection.”
“Scribe? Is she right?”
“Sire, I, too, will be in the castle when the Spell Stone’s enchantment is nullified. I am reasonably certain of my continued existence after that event.”
Vorn nodded, looking at Melydia. “So be it, then. I will do as you have asked. I am yours to command, my lady.”
“It is you who command me, sire,” she said.
Vorn offered his arm. “Come, we will dine. We have much to celebrate.”
“I would be honored.”
They left the chamber. Osmirik laid down his burdens, sat on a crate and let fall the hood of his cloak. He sighed, rubbing his eyes.
“However,” he said to no one in particular, “there is some question as to the continued existence of the world.”
Elsewhere
The bazaar was near deserted that day. A few street urchins chased each other up and down the aisles between the stalls. Here and there a prospective buyer haggled with a vendor. In a nearby stockade shaggy, thick- legged pack animals brayed complainingly, tails swishing at biting insects. The sun was high and the day was hot.
The book vendor awoke from his nap and cast a mercenary eye on the tall, well-dressed man who approached his stall. He liked what he saw. “Books, honored sir?”
The man nodded and picked up a parchment scroll. He read the title and put the scroll aside.
The book vendor smiled. “I took the honored sir for a man of culture and learning the moment I saw him.”
“Indeed? I thank you.”
The book vendor moved closer, eyeing the man’s choices.
“That’s an especially interesting volume. Rare.”
The stranger laid it aside and examined another, then another.
Presently the book vendor said, “Is there anything in particular …?”
“Yes. I am in search of a book of some repute, a work dealing with a certain aspect of the Recondite Arts.”
“Magic, is it?”
“More or less. Demonology.”
The book vendor looked thoughtful. “Ah.”
“Be you Durstin, the book vendor?”
“His honor knows of me? I am he.”
“I was told you possessed a copy of this particular work.”
“Does the honored sir know its title?”
“It is simply called
The book vendor’s eyes did not betray his surprise. “I have … heard of it. It is a rare item indeed. Very old.”
“Then you have a copy?”
“Regrettably, no. A thousand pardons.”
“A pity.” The man turned to go.
“I …”
“Yes?”
Durstin looked away. “I am curious as to who told the honored sir that I possess a copy of a banned work … an allegation which I most emphatically deny.”
“I was unaware that the book was proscribed.”
“It is indeed, and has been for centuries on the List of Forbidden Works. As I said, I am curious —”
“Khaalim sent me.”
The book vendor nodded. “There is an inn near the stockyards called the Pale Eye. Be there at sunset.”
“I have little time.”
“We can’t do business in broad daylight. Not this sort of business.”
“I will pay you double what the book would ordinarily fetch. Do you have it here in your stall?”
Durstin cast his eyes from one end of the bazaar to the other. “I have been hauled before the Suzerain’s magistrate on one previous occasion. The charge was selling vulgar and immoral literature. The scars still twinge when the weather turns. For a work on the List —”
