altogether, or whether the amphibians were only biding their time before resuming their southward advance.
One by one, he lifted and caressed the small moonstone carvings resting on the rock: a miniature icicle, a translucent ring, and a fragile wand incised with the phases of the moon. So much power! If only he could tap into it safely.
Outside, daylight was fading. The cave was a two-hour ride from Elktor, which lay to the west. But he'd left nothing of value in his rooms there. If he followed the track directly eastward instead, he could reach the great frontier city of Beorbrook by midnight even in the rain. After spending the night at an inn, he could head out for Great Pass and Didion in the morning. Conrig Ironcrown, King Somarus, High Sealord Semin Donorvale, and all of their battle-leaders and high-ranking advisers were gathered in a Council of War at Boarsden Castle. They'd twiddled their thumbs up there for weeks, apparently unsure of how to proceed against the Salka invaders.
I could survey the situation, Beynor told himself. Make my final decision about approaching the candidate after studying the possibilities. The journey to Boarsden would take only three or four days.
He replaced the inactive sigils in the blackened leather pouch and stowed it securely inside his shirt. Then he buckled on Moss's Sword of State and hurried to the cave mouth to bespeak the horses. Both of them, along with Jegg's pony, had fled in terror when the Great Lights' green thunderbolt struck the boy dead. But the animals would return readily enough at the irresistible summons of his magic.
CHAPTERTHREE
In the dragon's devouring abyss, darker than night and shot through with giddy red sparks, Induna of Barking Sands waited passively for death. Meanwhile, she dreamed of the time she had finally found Deveron.
The tropical night had been well advanced when the three-masted clipper ship tied up in Mikk-Rozodh and she was allowed to disembark. It was not the most propitious hour for a respectable woman to be wandering the docks in an unfamiliar port city. The Andradhian captain of the speedy merchantman, a grandfatherly sort who had treated her with unfailing courtesy during the long voyage, offered to have his third mate escort her to decent lodgings; but she declined with thanks, asking only to be directed to the nearest place where a small boat might be hired. Even though she was bone-weary and hungry, she knew she could never rest until she passed on the message she had come so far to deliver.
'You'll find punts at yon waterstairs,' the captain said, 'beyond the last slip, along the canal where the four torches flare. But are you sure you want to travel the backwaters of Mikk-Town so late at night?'
No female shaman had anything to fear from ordinary men. 'I'll be fine. Thank you again for your great kindness.'
Induna descended the gangplank, cloaked and carrying her embossed leather fardel on a strap secured over her shoulder. The canal was only about a hundred ells away. Nautical loiterers on the quay snickered and elbowed each other as she passed. One called out insolently, pretending to admire her red-gold hair, which was uncommon in the south, and asking what a Tarnian wench was doing so far from home.
It was a good question, she thought, but one too late to worry about now.
The Source had told her the name he was using and said that anyone in the Andradhian city of Mikk-Rozodh would know how to find him. She studied the small group of men gossiping at the foot of the waterstairs and selected the oldest, a thickset greybeard neatly attired in green canvas breeches, stout sandals, and a curious mesh shirt that revealed the silver hair on his chest.
'Goodman, I would like to hire a boat. Do you know the dwelling of Haydon the Sympath?'
He stepped away from the others, smiling good-naturedly, and touched the wide brim of his hat, which was woven of black straw. 'Aye, mistress. He's a Tarnian - as you are yourself, I'm
One by one, he lifted and caressed the small moonstone carvings resting on the rock: a miniature icicle, a translucent ring, and a fragile wand incised with the phases of the moon. So much power! If only he could tap into it safely.
Outside, daylight was fading. The cave was a two-hour ride from Elktor, which lay to the west. But he'd left nothing of value in his rooms there. If he followed the track directly eastward instead, he could reach the great frontier city of Beorbrook by midnight even in the rain. After spending the night at an inn, he could head out for Great Pass and Didion in the morning. Conrig Ironcrown, King Somarus, High Sealord Semin Donorvale, and all of their battle-leaders and high-ranking advisers were gathered in a Council of War at Boarsden Castle. They'd twiddled their thumbs up there for weeks, apparently unsure of how to proceed against the Salka invaders.
I could survey the situation, Beynor told himself. Make my final decision about approaching the candidate after studying the possibilities. The journey to Boarsden would take only three or four days.
He replaced the inactive sigils in the blackened leather pouch and stowed it securely inside his shirt. Then he buckled on Moss's Sword of State and hurried to the cave mouth to bespeak the horses. Both of them, along with Jegg's pony, had fled in terror when the Great Lights' green thunderbolt struck the boy dead. But the animals would return readily enough at the irresistible summons of his magic.
CHAPTERTHREE
In the dragon's devouring abyss, darker than night and shot through with giddy red sparks, Induna of Barking Sands waited passively for death. Meanwhile, she dreamed of the time she had finally found Deveron.
The tropical night had been well advanced when the three-masted clipper ship tied up in Mikk-Rozodh and she was allowed to disembark. It was not the most propitious hour for a respectable woman to be wandering the docks in an unfamiliar port city. The Andradhian captain of the speedy merchantman, a grandfatherly sort who had treated her with unfailing courtesy during the long voyage, offered to have his third mate escort her to decent lodgings; but she declined with thanks, asking only to be directed to the nearest place where a small boat might be hired. Even though she was bone-weary and hungry, she knew she could never rest until she passed on the message she had come so far to deliver.
'You'll find punts at yon waterstairs,' the captain said, 'beyond the last slip, along the canal where the four torches flare. But are you sure you want to travel the backwaters of Mikk-Town so late at night?'
No female shaman had anything to fear from ordinary men. 'I'll be fine. Thank you again for your great kindness.'
Induna descended the gangplank, cloaked and carrying her embossed leather fardel on a strap secured over her shoulder. The canal was only about a hundred ells away. Nautical loiterers on the quay snickered and elbowed each other as she passed. One called out insolently, pretending to admire her red-gold hair, which was uncommon in the south, and asking what a Tarnian wench was doing so far from home.
It was a good question, she thought, but one too late to worry about now.
The Source had told her the name he was using and said that anyone in the Andradhian city of Mikk-Rozodh would know how to find him. She studied the small group of men gossiping at the foot of the waterstairs and selected the oldest, a thickset greybeard neatly attired in green canvas breeches, stout sandals, and a curious mesh shirt that revealed the silver hair on his chest.
'Goodman, I would like to hire a boat. Do you know the dwelling of Haydon the Sympath?'
He stepped away from the others, smiling good-naturedly, and touched the wide brim of his hat, which was woven of black straw. 'Aye, mistress. He's a Tarnian - as you are yourself, I'm
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