I was gradually recovering my mobility as the weeks passed, and shared some of the later watches as the Spring gave way toward Summer. Morfew had warned Nolar not to speak to the Alizonder lad when he appeared; it was necessary that he should hear only male voices speaking Alizonian, so that he would not suspect he had left Alizon.
Late on the Second Day of the Month of the Willow Carp, Duratan and Jonja splashed through Lormt’s gate during the first Summer rain. They were weary and disheartened. Duratan would have made his report at once, but Jonja demanded that both of them change into dry clothing.
When we gathered in Morfew’s study, Duratan could not sit still. He paced back and forth, his frustration plain in every bitter word. He and Jonja had been allowed to address the remaining members of the Council of Witches at Es Castle several times over the five-day period of their stay . . . but to no avail. Duratan was convinced that if Koris had been there, he would have listened to and joined in Lormt’s plea for action—but Estcarp’s Seneschal was absent from Es City, traveling through the countryside to assess the progress of recovery from the Turning. Jonja reluctantly agreed that we should not depend upon any aid from the Witches. Almost all of the prominent Witches had been killed or injured during the Turning, and those who now attempted to rule Estcarp were racked by division. One faction argued for a cloistered withdrawal from all worldly affairs to bastions such as their Place of Wisdom, where over time, the Sisterhood could be replenished. Even those Witches who desired to continue ruling from Es Castle as before were unwilling to make any commitments for concerted action, especially when the request for assistance came from Lormt, and stemmed originally from a hated Alizonder. Duratan told us sourly that the only useful fruit from the trip was his chance hearing that Simon Tregarth was back in Escore. Simon’s two sons, Kyllan and Kemoc, were also presumed to be in Escore at present, but the Witches had no good opinion of them, still keenly resenting their rescue three years ago of their sister Kaththea from the isolated Place of Wisdom, where Estcarp’s girls gifted with Power were trained to become Witches.
Duratan abruptly stopped pacing, and exclaimed that we must alert Simon Tregarth to the threat posed by Escore’s resurgent Dark mages, who might employ magical means to erupt at any time into Estcarp or Alizon. Jonja offered—after a night’s rest—to attempt a Sending to the Valley of the Green Silences, Escore’s stronghold of forces devoted to the Light. Not being a fully empowered Witch, Jonja could not convey our entire, complex warning, but she believed she could express our urgent need to reach Simon Tregarth. Early the next day, Jonja concentrated upon our desire that the Lady of the Valley would dispatch to us one of her blue-green message-carrying birds to fetch our written forewarning.
Jonja had scarcely completed her effort when, to our surprise, Duratan suddenly cried out, not in pain or fear, but with fierce joy. He sat rapt for a few moments, then shook himself as if rousing from sleep. He explained to us that Kemoc, his former shield comrade, had become aware of Jonja’s Sending. On a previous occasion, Kemoc had appeared to Duratan in a dream, but this time, Kemoc achieved a waking linkage with Duratan’s mind. He now informed Duratan that Simon was presently scouting the northwesterly border area between Escore and Alizon in response to troubling rumors that evil was stirring in that quarter. Alarmed by our distress call from Lormt, Kemoc pledged to leave the Valley of the Green Silences immediately and ride to confer with us. His journey across the intervening mountains would likely require five days, but once at Lormt, Kemoc could establish a mind-link with his elder brother Kyllan back in the Valley, thus eliminating the delays and hazards of trying to communicate by bird-borne messages.
While we waited for Kemoc to arrive, a further significant interruption occurred only two days later, during the evening of the Fifth Day of the Month of the Willow Carp. Ouen was most fortunately serving on watch in Lormt’s cellar when the postern from Krevonel Castle abruptly flared into activity, delivering among us a groggy, docile Alizonder lad who was clutching Elsenar’s key in one hand and a tightly-wrapped message roll in the other.
At once, Ouen guided the lad to a bench and intoned Morfew’s admonition in Alizonian: “Wait here in silence. This message may require an instant reply.”
Leaving the lad under the wary observation of a fellow scholar, Ouen hurried to confer with us in a distant corner of the cellar. Kasarian identified his messenger as Deverian, a pup of his eldest littermate’s Line. His message was brief, but deeply disturbing. Upon his return to Krevonel Castle, Kasarian had launched discreet inquiries that had just recently confirmed his worst fears. The leadership of Gurborian’s faction had been seized by two barons, Balaran from Gurborian’s own Line Sired by Reptur, and Ruchard of the Line Sired by Gohdar. They feigned complete cooperation and agreement with one another, but each was secretly vying to be the sole leader of the faction. Kasarian had taken advantage of their concealed rivalry by bribing underlings in each camp in the name of the opposing side, so that his own interest would remain unsuspected. He had learned that very soon a meeting was to be held just across the border in Escore with a Dark mage known to the barons as Skurlok. Kasarian was apprehensive that neither baron could successfully confront a Dark mage—that without the positive advantage afforded by Gratch’s cunning, Alizon’s interests would likely be betrayed. Kasarian promised to obtain more details, but meanwhile urgently desired word from us concerning our “southerly venture,” as he delicately termed Lormt’s plea for aid from Estcarp’s Witches.
Morfew quickly composed a reply, using purposefully obscure language of his own in the event our message might be seen by enemies in Alizon. “I regret,” he read aloud to us, “that our southerly venture appears to have come to naught. The parties we appealed to are unwilling to commit themselves on our behalf. Within a few days, however, our agent has arranged for a meeting here with his former shield comrade, the second puissant pup of that formidable sire we mentioned to you earlier. You will rejoice to hear that very sire is even now investigating rumors concerning the activity you have reported; he is tracking the matter from the far side of the border. In view of our impending receipt of important further information from the second pup, pray therefore dispatch your messenger to us again in four days’ time so that we can share the news with you. We shall expect him at that time, but will also keep watch should you need to send a message before then.”
We hastened back to the postern site, where Morfew sternly addressed the blindfolded lad garbed in Krevonel’s dark blue livery. “Hear me, Deverian of the Line Sired by Krevonel. Bear this message to your Master as carefully as you bore his to us. On your feet, now . . . I shall guide you to the opening of the passage-way. Do not drop the key!”
Putting a hand on each shoulder, Morfew firmly aligned the lad with the marked paving slab, and gave him a gentle push as the familiar but still eerie postern oval formed soundlessly in mid-air.
When Deverian had disappeared, Ouen remarked, “If the fine weather holds, Kemoc should arrive at Lormt in three more days. We shall assemble all of our documents for his examination.”
Duratan was grimly gratified that Simon Tregarth was already aware of a suspicious disturbance near Escore’s border with Alizon. There was no question in Duratan’s mind that Simon Tregarth and Kemoc would believe our warnings and would take prompt action to counter the threat.
I thumped my staff on the paving and wrote for Nolar to read aloud, “With the aid of this fine new staff that Master Wessell has shaped for me to replace the one I had to leave at Krevonel Castle, I am now well able to move about once again. Should it be necessary for us to send a sudden message to Kasarian, I believe that I can travel through the postern. It would not be prudent, however, for me to wander about in Krevonel Castle by myself. I shall take with me a well-stocked scrip and a pallet so that my period of waiting for Kasarian in the postern chamber may be moderately comfortable. It would be useful to know whether we of Elsenar’s blood can activate the postern spell without the presence
of Elsenar’s key to the chamber in Krevonel Castle.”
Duratan smiled. “Lady,” he said, “Simon Tregarth himself could not ask for a more spirited ally than you have proved to be. Although our situation is grave, with you and the sons of Tregarth on our side, I begin to see grounds for hope.”
“May we remove this discussion to a warmer location?” Morfew asked in a plaintive voice. “Mereth’s bones may have mended, but mine are growing stiffer each hour I spend in this cellar. Besides,” he added, as we began our long upward progress, “I distinctly heard Master Wessell say something about a cask of well-aged wine he found recently amid all the upheaval. The least we can do is taste a sample to see if it is suitable to serve to young Kemoc when he arrives.”
As I followed behind the others, I looked forward to the wine, the fellowship, and the challenge that lay before us. The Dark mage Skurlok would find himself confronted by the iron-hard, unified resolve of forces from Lormt and Escore . . . and even from Alizon. We would be prepared to defend our lands.
Andre Norton, The Magestone
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