body.”
“What about a hard way?” asked Miranda.
“What do you mean?”
“You said he has no easy way to take over a new body. I understand that, since you destroyed his soul jar, but he still has the knowledge of how to inhabit another’s body, and might there not be other means, perhaps less convenient, but equally effective?”
Pug said, “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Miranda could barely contain her smug expression.
“Then we must be both meticulous and stealthy,” said Pug, ignoring his wife’s superior expression. “I shall make inquiries of some less than highborn sources in Kelewan, and you see what you can find out in the Assembly while I travel to the Hall. Trust only Alenca.”
“How can I trust anyone?” asked Miranda. “After he took possession of the Emperor of Kesh, I think it safe to argue that Varen can be anyone on Kelewan, including their Emperor.”
“I think not,” said Pug. “Consider how he placed his soul jar in the sewers near the Emperor’s palace. I suspect location has much to do with who he can reach. In any event, without the jar, I think he had to leap blind and inhabit the body of whoever was closest. As his ‘death rift’ acted in many ways like normal rifts, I would expect it propelled him to a point near the Assembly, if not within its halls. As he would have been a disembodied spirit, the Assembly’s usual defenses would have been useless—that’s the reason, by the way, Ithink it unlikely he would ever be able to occupy a high-level cleric on either world; wards against spirits are common in temples.”
“Very well,” said Miranda. “I’ll speak with Alenca when I go. Now, one more question.”
“Yes?” said Pug, obviously impatient to be under way.
“If you’re going to visit Kelewan without the Assembly being aware, just how do you propose to go through the rift without being noticed?”
Pug smiled, and years seemed to fall away from him. “A trick, as Nakor would call it.”
He left the room and Magnus started laughing at the consternation on his mother’s face.
Miranda glared at her older son. “That annoying little man is such a bad influence around here!”
Magnus laughed even harder.
Pug crept down a side street, his face hidden beneath a deep hood. Beards were rare in the Tsurani Empire among freemen, being worn for the most part by those of Midkemian birth and a few rebellious youths. Being out late at night and sporting facial hair was likely to mean being stopped by any patrolling city watch, and while his rank as a member of the Assembly of Magicians meant instant obedience from any soldier or constable, Pug wished to avoid drawing attention to his clandestine visit.
The domicile he sought was modest, off a side street in a section of the city of Jamar that was only a slight improvement over the slums and docks. The houses here were modest, the whitewash traditional to the Tsurani home kept somewhat clean, and the streets not too littered with refuse. There was even a street lamp some way behind him.
Pug reach the desired house and knocked loudly on the wooden door. From within a voice said, “Come in, Milamber.”
Pug pushed his way into the small house, which was barely more than a one-room hut, and said, “Greetings, Sinboya.”
The old man sat on a rush mat on the floor behind a small, lowtable upon which rested a single lamp, its flame barely illuminating the room. A small woodstove in the corner provided heat for cooking—the weather in the Empire rarely got cold enough for anyone to worry about heating the house. A curtain sectioned off a sleeping pallet, and a rear door led to what Pug knew to be a small vegetable garden and an outhouse.
The old man behind the table was rake-thin, looking every minute of his eighty-plus years of age. His wispy hair was white and his blue eyes were covered with film, yet Pug knew his wits were as sharp as they had been thirty years before when they had first met.
“You
“What about a hard way?” asked Miranda.
“What do you mean?”
“You said he has no easy way to take over a new body. I understand that, since you destroyed his soul jar, but he still has the knowledge of how to inhabit another’s body, and might there not be other means, perhaps less convenient, but equally effective?”
Pug said, “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Miranda could barely contain her smug expression.
“Then we must be both meticulous and stealthy,” said Pug, ignoring his wife’s superior expression. “I shall make inquiries of some less than highborn sources in Kelewan, and you see what you can find out in the Assembly while I travel to the Hall. Trust only Alenca.”
“How can I trust anyone?” asked Miranda. “After he took possession of the Emperor of Kesh, I think it safe to argue that Varen can be anyone on Kelewan, including their Emperor.”
“I think not,” said Pug. “Consider how he placed his soul jar in the sewers near the Emperor’s palace. I suspect location has much to do with who he can reach. In any event, without the jar, I think he had to leap blind and inhabit the body of whoever was closest. As his ‘death rift’ acted in many ways like normal rifts, I would expect it propelled him to a point near the Assembly, if not within its halls. As he would have been a disembodied spirit, the Assembly’s usual defenses would have been useless—that’s the reason, by the way, Ithink it unlikely he would ever be able to occupy a high-level cleric on either world; wards against spirits are common in temples.”
“Very well,” said Miranda. “I’ll speak with Alenca when I go. Now, one more question.”
“Yes?” said Pug, obviously impatient to be under way.
“If you’re going to visit Kelewan without the Assembly being aware, just how do you propose to go through the rift without being noticed?”
Pug smiled, and years seemed to fall away from him. “A trick, as Nakor would call it.”
He left the room and Magnus started laughing at the consternation on his mother’s face.
Miranda glared at her older son. “That annoying little man is such a bad influence around here!”
Magnus laughed even harder.
Pug crept down a side street, his face hidden beneath a deep hood. Beards were rare in the Tsurani Empire among freemen, being worn for the most part by those of Midkemian birth and a few rebellious youths. Being out late at night and sporting facial hair was likely to mean being stopped by any patrolling city watch, and while his rank as a member of the Assembly of Magicians meant instant obedience from any soldier or constable, Pug wished to avoid drawing attention to his clandestine visit.
The domicile he sought was modest, off a side street in a section of the city of Jamar that was only a slight improvement over the slums and docks. The houses here were modest, the whitewash traditional to the Tsurani home kept somewhat clean, and the streets not too littered with refuse. There was even a street lamp some way behind him.
Pug reach the desired house and knocked loudly on the wooden door. From within a voice said, “Come in, Milamber.”
Pug pushed his way into the small house, which was barely more than a one-room hut, and said, “Greetings, Sinboya.”
The old man sat on a rush mat on the floor behind a small, lowtable upon which rested a single lamp, its flame barely illuminating the room. A small woodstove in the corner provided heat for cooking—the weather in the Empire rarely got cold enough for anyone to worry about heating the house. A curtain sectioned off a sleeping pallet, and a rear door led to what Pug knew to be a small vegetable garden and an outhouse.
The old man behind the table was rake-thin, looking every minute of his eighty-plus years of age. His wispy hair was white and his blue eyes were covered with film, yet Pug knew his wits were as sharp as they had been thirty years before when they had first met.
“You
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