The Ninth Talisman by Lawrence Watt-Evans

Summer Palace? Is it—why is it called that?”
    â€œI would think
that
would be obvious,” the Wizard Lord said. “Especially when you’re standing here in the Winter Palace on a warm day.” He dabbed a finger against his brow, and Sword could see a faint sheen of sweat.
    â€œThen it’s for
your
use?”
    â€œYes, of course. I’m tired of sweltering-hot summers, and as for using magic to keep myself cool—well, you’d be amazed how difficult itis, and how much it disrupts the natural patterns, and the fact is, I’m trying to use as little magic as possible. It’s much simpler to just go somewhere that’s cooler to begin with, and the high plateau is definitely cooler. Not to mention the breeze, and the spectacular view. You can see a hundred miles from up there! So I’ve had the Summer Palace built. In fact, we’ll be leaving to go there for the season in a few days; you almost missed me. It’s only been completely finished this year, and this is the first time I’ll be using it properly. Until now I’ve only visited.”
    â€œBut it’s in the Uplands,” Sword protested.
    â€œYes, it is. But the Uplanders agreed to let me build it there.”
    That missed the point, and Sword tried again. “But it’s not in Barokan!”
    â€œYes, I
know
that,” the Wizard Lord said gently, as if talking to a child.
    â€œBut you are the Wizard Lord of
Barokan!”
    â€œAnd I can see more of it from up there than I can down here. I’m hardly going to be abandoning my duties just because I’m on top of the cliff instead of below it. I can ride on the wind, remember, and fly down here if some emergency requires my presence.”
    â€œBut . . .” Sword groped for words. Building a palace atop the cliff did not break any laws, so far as he knew, nor did it harm anyone, but it didn’t seem
right.
This was all so strange!
    He knew there was some simple, basic reason that the Wizard Lord should not leave Barokan for the Uplands, but before he could put his finger on it, the Wizard Lord spoke again.
    â€œIf you’d like to see it, I’d be happy if you would accompany us there,” he said.
    Again, Sword was caught off-guard; he stared at the Wizard Lord for a moment, then at Farash, and then at Lore, trying to read their expressions.
    He saw Farash was nervous, Artil welcoming, and Lore . . . pleading? But why? Farash probably feared having his past revealed, and the Wizard Lord clearly wanted a chance to show off his accomplishments and ensure that the Chosen approved of them, but why were Lore’s eyes so desperate? What did the Scholar want to tell him, or want him to do?
    Well, accompanying them up the cliffs would give Sword a chance to talk to them all, to learn more of just what was happening, not to mention that seeing the Uplands was an experience he had never had. And he did wonder what the view would be like from up there. Even the view from an ordinary ridge could be beautiful; what would it be like looking down from thousands of feet above Barokan?
    The Wizard Lord was watching him expectantly, waiting for his reply.
    â€œI would be delighted,” Sword said at last.

[ 5 ]
    â€œIt’s natural enough for the Wizard Lord and the Chosen to avoid befriending each other,” the Wizard Lord said, as he flung aside a well-gnawed bone. “After all, the Chosen may find themselves called upon to kill the Wizard Lord, and you can’t expect an executioner to seek out the condemned. But if you think about it, natural or not, there’s a great deal to be gained if we work together.”
    â€œOh?” Sword said, reaching for his mug of beer. He had the impression that wine was more commonly served at meals in Winterhome, and suspected that the beer was in his honor, since he came from a barley-growing community.
    They were seated next to one another at a long