About a hundred years earlier, through subterfuge, the Unknown Potency and six other notable sigils had passed from the Dawntide Salka into the hands of an extraordinary human wizard named Rothbannon, who used some of the stones to establish himself as the first Conjure-King of Moss. Although Rothbannon did eventually learn the spells that would activate the Unknown Potency, he and his descendants were disinclined to make use of the dubious sigil—as had been Beynor himself, even when the security of his throne was at stake and the fickle Beaconfolk turned against him. As the Great Lights repudiated and cursed the young king, they unaccountably left in his possession the “dead” Unknown Potency, at the same time forbidding him to make use of it, or any other sigil, on pain of instant annihilation. But the Lights had not stopped Beynor from handing over the Unknown to the Salka.
Nor had they prevented him from engaging in studies concerning the nature of the cryptic stone while he lived in the Dawntide Citadel under Kalawnn’s protection…
“We give you leave to approach us, Beynor,” the Master Shaman now said, “and to speak to me and my august colleagues about your researches.”
He came forward, and without preamble pointed to the Unknown Potency on its golden tripod. “Eminences, I’ve discovered what this thing does.”
The leaders uttered undignified whoops of astonishment. The Supreme Warrior, who was the largest and most physically imposing of the Four, surged up from his couch and slithered across the dais with astonishing speed. He plucked from its resting place the small object resembling a hard translucent ribbon twisted into the form of a figure eight, and held the thing high while bellowing into Beynor’s impassive face.
“You have discovered the operation of the Unknown Potency? The secret that eluded the most learned of our shamans for over eleven hundred years? How dare you say such a thing? You’re lying!”
“I studied your own archival tablets, Eminence—documents that have lain neglected in the bowels of this citadel since the defeated remnant of the Salka host took refuge in these forsaken isles. The work was very difficult, even though I am fairly fluent in your language. But I persevered. I succeeded. And now I propose to share my hard-won knowledge of the Potency with you.” Beynor paused. “As is only just, I ask something in return for my labors.”
“Now we come to the heart of the matter!” exclaimed the Supreme Warrior, with a vicious clash of teeth. “He intends to trick us in some fashion, as the wretch Rothbannon did! Kalawnn—explain how this miscreant was able to pry into our sacred archives. How long have you been aware of this alleged discovery?”
“Calm yourself, Ugusawnn,” the Master Shaman replied equably. “I myself gave Beynor leave to investigate the Unknown Potency’s history not long after his arrival. Why not, since our own scholars seemed unaccountably tepid in their reaction to the precious sigil’s return? As to Beynor’s discovery, he told me of it just hours ago, saying he had finally marshaled sufficient evidence to support his hypothesis. I commanded him to wait on us Four without delay and explain everything.”
“And now the insolent groundling thinks he can barter his so-called knowledge!” roared the Warrior. “I say he should be tortured until the truth is wrung out of him!”
“The journeyman is deserving of his wage,” said Beynor, who seemed unfazed by the threat. “Forgive my saying so, Eminences, but your shamans— with the shining exception of Master Kalawnn—are a timid and lazy lot, fearful of arcane matters outside the range of their limited experience. They flatly refused to help with my researches, so I undertook them alone, working for four years under conditions inimical to human good health. Eventually I uncovered the Potency’s secrets. It may no longer be called Unknown, Eminences! I know its true nature. And while the Great Lights have forbidden me to empower it—or any other sigil—they have not constrained you Salka. I’m willing to show you how to bring the stone to life. What’s more, with my help, this one small moonstone can restore to you your lost homeland on High Blenholme island, avenging your defeat by Emperor Bazekoy.”
“Astounding, if true,” said the First Judge. He was a rotund personage who snacked on tidbits from the refreshment table as he observed Beynor through shrewd, half-closed eyes.
The ancient Conservator of Wisdom whispered, “If there is the least chance that the groundling does speak the truth, we must weigh his proposition.”
“I am truthful,” Beynor stated. “And I’ll reveal everything I know if you pledge to help me attain my own heart’s goal.”
The Supreme Warrior gingerly replaced the precious piece of moonstone on its golden stand and loomed over the young man. Two boneless arms as thick as beech trunks, each having four digits armed with daggerlike talons, reached out in menace as the Salka general spoke with ominous gentleness. “You’ll tell what you know without making demands, carrion-worm, or I will first disjoint your limbs piecemeal, then slowly slice open your belly and consume your throbbing entrails while you watch with dying eyes.”
“That will do, Ugusawnn,” said the Conservator of Wisdom. He was an individual of wizened stature, plainly infirm and weighted with years, but his red eyes burned with an authority that quelled the Supreme Warrior like an upstart child. “Please resume your place. I will question the former Conjure-King of Moss myself.”
“Huh!” said Ugusawnn. But he crawled obediently back to his slimy kelp couch as the Conservator beckoned for Beynor to come closer.
“It pains me to speak loudly, groundling. But listening to lies pains me even more. Do you swear by your human God to tell me the truth about the Unknown Potency, on peril of damnation to the Hell of Ice?”
“I do indeed, Eminence.”
But not all of the truth… no more than I told it to Kilian!
“Then say first what favors you seek in return for your discovery.”
Beynor took a breath. “My principal desire is vengeance upon my evil sister Ullanoth and her accomplice Conrig Wincantor, the Sovereign of Blenholme. They conspired to humiliate me and steal my throne, and are ultimately responsible for my losing the friendship of the Beaconfolk. To achieve the ruin of these two persons I would renounce all hope of ever ruling Moss— or any part of High Blenholme Island. Instead, I offer to restore your original homeland to you, after which I intend to pursue my own destiny on the Southern Continent.”
“He offers Blenholme to us!” the Supreme Warrior scoffed. “As though he ruled it rather than Conrig’s Sovereignty.”
“The Unknown Potency can enable your army to destroy both the Sovereign and my sister,” Beynor said. “With my help.”
“Tell us how,” the First Judge demanded, picking his glassy teeth with one talon and examining the result with a frown.
“Before I do that, I require tangible proof of your goodwill. It’s only just, Eminences—and my request isn’t difficult of fulfillment. As a first step in subverting Conrig’s Sovereignty, I believe we must undermine his control in the region where the island is most vulnerable: the vassal kingdom of Didion. Did-ion is a keystone state whose lands adjoin those of the other three realms. It is susceptible to a Salka sea invasion from the east, the west, and most especially from the north, through the Green Morass. Its king, Honigalus, is a weakling, but he is unswervingly loyal to Conrig.”
“What has this to do with us?” the Conservator hissed impatiently.
“As the first step in achieving my revenge, and your reconquest of Blenholme, I ask you to help me assassinate Honigalus, his three children, and his wife, who stand in line to the throne. If this is done, the king’s younger brother will inherit—a hothead prince named Somarus who is violently opposed to the Sovereignty. I’m very well acquainted with Somarus and his ambitions. He’s highly susceptible to my coercion. And if this princely creature of mine were perceived by neighboring Tarn to be a legitimate heir to the throne and not a fratricidal usurper—as would be assured if Salka were clearly seen to be responsible for his brother’s death—then Sernin Donorvale and the Sealords of Tarn would ha
ve no scruples about allying with Didion in an attempt to throw off Conrig’s hated dominion. The Sovereignty would be plunged into chaotic war, making it easy for your own army to seize the advantage.“
“It sounds like a clever scheme, if somewhat convoluted.” The Conservator of Wisdom spoke wistfully. “But history has shown that our fighters have not the physical agility nor the military competence to withstand human beings on land. This is why most of us have remained in the Dawntide Isles for these many centuries, only venturing to attack the groundlings on rare occasions, from the sea… and why the Salka who still dwell in Blenholme’s Little Fen and the northern estuaries inhabited by humans live furtive, inconspicuous lives.”
Beynor said, “The high sorcery of the Known Potency will make you superior to any weapon humanity can wield, be it natural or supernatural.”
“Tell us how this can be,” said the First Judge. He uncorked a flask and poured a viscous fluid into a gold cup, sniffed it, and took a tentative lap. His tongue was purple, and nearly the length of Beynor’s forearm.
The young sorcerer strode to the golden tripod and cupped his hands beneath the inactive sigil. “Look upon it, Eminences! Apparently naught but a finely carved little stone ribbon, twisted to resemble a figure eight. But a finger slid along its surface discovers that the thing has but a single side and a single edge! A twofold wonder…”
“Do not touch the Potency!” the Supreme Warrior bellowed. “Never touch it again!” Beynor froze but did not flinch. After a moment, he let his hands fall to his sides and withdrew from the tripod, smiling.
“Continue,” said Master Kalawnn, with a reproachful glance at his colleague.
Beynor nodded. “Properly conjured, this small object defies the Beacon-folk’s control of their own sorcery. It forces them to yield up arcane power through moonstone sigils without causing pain to the conjurer. The mere touch of the living Potency liberates any other active sigil from the Lights’ control, as well as from the control of the former owner. A liberated sigil retains its efficacy, without exacting the former pain-price. Think what this might mean to wielders of minor-sigil weaponry such as flame-stones and stunners.”
“Incredible!” Kalawnn exclaimed.
“Not at all, Master. I’ve also discovered that the Potency can instantly activate dead sigils without the usual agonizing ritual, whether the Lights will it or nill it. You Salka might also use the Potency to safely empower newly fashioned Great Stones. Just imagine what ten Weathermakers could do to Conrig’s army and navy! Or even one Destroyer…”
“At the present time, we are unable to make new sigils,” Kalawnn admitted, shaking his ponderous head. “All that we have left are those minor stones brought to the isles by the refugees fleeing Bazekoy.”
Beynor kept a lid on his elation with difficulty. The chief sorcerer of the Salka had confirmed what Beynor and Kilian had previously only deduced to be true: the monsters would already have used Great Stones as weapons against humanity if they had owned any.
“Still,” Beynor said, “the Potency can be a great boon to you. Even the lesser sigils conjure more powerful sorcery than talented humans are capable of. King Conrig’s alchymists and warriors will flee in terror before your conquering magic!”
The Supreme Warrior gave a skeptical grunt. “That remains to be seen. In my opinion, if we have only minor stones to assist us, humans might retain a strong advantage—especially on land—as they did in Bazekoy’s day. Even our Great Stones did not deter his warriors for long. They slew the sigils’ owners from afar with their arrows, then were able to smash the dead stones before we could retrieve and reactivate them. Only three Great Stones ever came to the Dawntides, those that Rothbannon took away from us. They eventually were handed down to you. In your incredible stupidity, you misused them, and now only this Unknown Potency is left.”
“A more prudent course is open to us,” the Conservator of Wisdom said.
“As Kalawnn observed, we lack the ability to make new Great Stones at the present time. But that situation could change.”
Beynor forced himself to speak nonchalantly in the face of this shocker. “And how might that come to pass, Eminence? Nothing I’ve studied so far in your archives tells of the origin of moonstone sigils.”
The Conservator turned to the Master Shaman. “Colleague, please explain matters to this groundling protege of yours. My voice grows weary.”
“Thousands of years ago,” Kalawnn said, “our people discovered that a certain precious mineral had the power to conjure the magic of the Coldlight Army. The mineral was never abundant, and obtaining it was a difficult and dangerous business. With the passing of time and the changing climate, the two sources of the mineral, known as the Moon Crags, became inaccessible to our people. Indeed, the very location of the smaller crag has been lost—we know only that it lies atop a mountain—while the larger crag is situated deep within the Barren Lands of the far north, in a place now colder and more inhospitable than it was in ages past.”
The Conservator said to Beynor, “If the Unknown Potency does indeed have the power you describe, we might undertake a special effort to reach the Barren Lands Moon Crag once again. It might take a number of years to accomplish the task. But if we fashioned powerful new Great Stones and activated them through the Potency, then our victory against humanity would be certain rather than problematic. The Lights would have no way of betraying us, as they did so perfidiously when Bazekoy first threatened our homeland.”
The other Eminences murmured in agreement. Beynor stood like a statue, fighting the nausea swelling inside him. He’d been so certain that they were ready to acquiesce to his scheme—and now this!
Well, there remained one bargaining tool that could mend the situation. Mentioning it now might lead the Eminences to suspect—rightly enough— that he was planning treachery after the action in Didion; but he had to risk it.
“It’s understandable that you feel you must hold off reclaiming your heritage until you obtain Great Stones,” he said carefully. “However, I might point out that there are three other Great Stones already in existence that could be used to further the Salka cause without delay. In my opinion, these sigils alone would enable you to secure a strong initial foothold on High Blenholme while your valiant shamans simultaneously undertake the Moon Crag quest.”
Kalawnn said, “I presume you refer to those owned by your sister, Conjure-Queen Ullanoth, which supposedly came to her as a gift from your dead mother, along with four minor stones.”
“Hmm. I’d forgotten about those,” the Conservator said. “The young witch was said to have found them hidden among the roots of a swamp tree, after being guided by a dream.”
“That’s so,” Beynor said. “The important sigils are called Sender, Weather-maker, and Subtle Loophole. My sister rarely uses their high sorcery these days, since she has accumulated an enormous pain-debt employing them in the service of her lover, King Conrig.”
“She uses them against us!” Ugusawnn snarled. “In our failed attack last year, the Conjure-Queen employed her Loophole sigil to see us coming, and smote our landing force with a great storm conjured by Weathermaker. After that, even with the queen disabled by pain, human ships attacked these very isles. Our fighters were crushed like fishlice!”
“I’m aware that recent Salka assaults against Moss were repelled.” Beynor gave the Supreme Warrior an apologetic shrug. “Forgive me, Eminence, for saying that the actions were poorly planned, using insufficient numbers of warriors who relied upon brute strength rather than appropriate magic.”
The huge eyes of Ugusawnn gleamed like baleful rubies. He bared his crystalline teeth at Beynor, and each was twice as long as a man’s hand. “Do you know a better way to fight the Conjure-Queen and her allies?”
“Suppose your forces were equipped with numbers of Concealers and Interpenetrators. I know your people possess such minor stones, as well as many others, but they are reluctant to use them because of the price. Liberated by
the Potency, these sigils can assure victory! If you mount a stealthy attack on Royal Fenguard from the upstream side, using my special knowledge of the castle’s defenses in that area, you could penetrate the fortress walls and move about under cover of invisibility. Queen Ullanoth’s Great Stones would be yours before she or her ally King Conrig realized what was happening… because, with the Potency, you would not have to kill the queen before taking her Great Stones for yourselves.”
The First Judge was aghast. “What are you saying?”
“As you are aware, Eminence, a living sigil will ordinarily burn or even kill an unauthorized person who ventures to seize it. Even if the bonded owner is separated from the sigils, the owner can often command it from a distance— perhaps causing great harm or mischief. But a moonstone liberated by the Potency is severed from its former owner at once. Recall what I said: a liberated stone becomes rebonded painlessly to the Potency wielder without the usual lengthy and painful ritual.”
The Conservator of Wisdom spoke with heavy sarcasm. “It is good that we need have no fear that you might manage to appropriate your sister’s three Great Stones for yourself, Beynor of Moss!”
“Alas, no, Eminence,” Beynor lied. “The curse of the Beaconfolk places them beyond my reach forever. But not beyond yours.”
“All this sounds like a splendid course of action,” the Supreme Warrior sneered, “but in my opinion it has as many holes as a sponge. It relies too much on this groundling’s help and I don’t trust him. We can’t even be sure he’s told us the truth about the Potency.”
The Master Shaman said mildly, “Beynor is the son of my departed friend, Conjure-King Linndal. He has never given me reason to doubt his friendship toward the Salka people. He returned the Potency to us without condition. We know for a fact that he is incapable of using sigil magic himself. His assessment of the situation in Moss coincides with my own knowledge of Ullanoth’s affairs. I think we should consider the proposal to invade Moss very carefully. That isolated corner of High Blenholme would provide us with a perfect staging area for the main attack upon the rest of the island. Numbers of our people already reside in Moss’s fens and in the swamps along its principal rivers. And I agree with Beynor that the Conjure-Queen’s three important sigils would immediately give us an enormous advantage over human enemies.”