“I’ll wager you wouldn’t be so interested in Mina if she were an old hag like myself,” said Jenna, giving Dalamar’s hand a teasing slap.
Dalamar took her hand and brought it to his lips. “You will never be an old hag, my dear. And you well know it.”
Jenna, who did know it, smiled at him and returned to business.
“Do you have anything to add, Mistress Coryn?”
“Judging by the clue the Beloved gave you, the way to destroy these things will not be easily discovered by anyone—cleric, wizard, or sorcerer. I would suggest that those apprentices currently studying in the Tower be instructed to search among the old records for some mention of similar beings, particularly in regard to Chemosh.”
“They are already at work,” said Jenna. “I have also contacted the Aesthetics and asked them to research the books in the Great Library. I do not believe that they will have much success, however. So far as I know, nothing like these Beloved have been seen upon Ansalon. Is there anything else? Any other questions?”
Jenna cast a glance around the table. The wizards sat in gloomy silence, shaking their hooded heads.
“Very well, then. Let us move on. The Conclave will now consider the guidelines that wizards will be required to follow if they come upon any of these Beloved. First and foremost, we must find some means of detecting them.”
“And of protecting the innocent, who are bound to be falsely accused,” added a White Robe.
“And of protecting ourselves, who are bound to be falsely accused,” said a Black Robe.
“And so it seems to me . . .” said a Red Robe.
Nuitari turned away. Such discussions would likely go on for hours before consensus was reached.
“My cousins,” he said. “I would speak with you.”
“You have our full attention, Cousin,” said Lunitari, and Solinari, coming to stand by her side, nodded his head.
The three gods had been watching the proceedings from their heavenly plane and, despite the fact that no mortal eye could see them, each took on his or her favorite aspect. Lunitari appeared as a vivacious, red-haired woman wearing red robes trimmed in ermine and gold. Solinari took the form of a young and physically powerful man. His robes were white, trimmed in silver. Nuitari took his usual form, that of a man with a moon-round face, heavy-lidded eyes and full lips. His jet-black robes were plain and unadorned.
Lunitari guessed immediately that something was up.
“You have information about these Beloved, Cousin,” she said, excited. “Chemosh has said something to you.”
Nuitari was scornful. “Chemosh is too busy strutting about being cock of the walk to talk to me. He believes he has done something quite clever. Personally, I am not all that impressed. A way will be found to destroy these shambling corpses, and that will put an end to that.”
“Then what do you want to speak to us about?” Solinari asked.
“I have built a Tower of High Sorcery,” said Nuitari. “My own tower.”
His two cousins stared at him blankly.
“What?” demanded Lunitari, unable to believe she had heard correctly.
“I have built a Tower of High Sorcery,” Nuitari repeated. “Or rather, rebuilt an old Tower—the one that used to stand in Istar. I raised up the ruins and added a few of my own touches. The Tower is located beneath the Blood Sea. Two of my Black Robes now inhabit it. I plan to invite more wizards to move in later.”
“You did this in secret!” Lunitari gasped. “Behind our backs!”
“Yes,” said Nuitari. What else could he say? “I did.”
Lunitari was furious. She lunged at him and there is no telling what she might have done, had not her cousin, Solinari, grabbed hold of her and dragged her back.
“Down through the centuries, since the time of our birth, we three have stood shoulder-to-shoulder, side-by-side,” said Solinari, keeping fast hold of his raging cousin. “We have been united in the cause of the magic and, because of our unity, magic prospered. When your mother betrayed us, we grieved together and joined forces to try to find the world. When we did find it, we acted in concert to restore magic to it. Only to discover that you have betrayed us.”
“Let us ask which of us is the true betrayer,” Nuitari said. “My mother, Takhisis, was deposed for her crime, made mortal, and then ignominiously slain by a mortal’s hand. Your father, Cousin Solinari, was once a god. He is now a beggar who roams Ansalon living off charity.
Nuitari shook his head. “And what of Nuitari? My mother gone. My father, Sargonnas, the rampaging bull, is intent on his minotaur ruling Ansalon! He has driven the elves from their homeland and is now sending out shiploads of minotaur settlers. He cares nothing for me or what I am about. We all know minotaurs think little of wizards, and that includes my father.”
His heavy-lidded eyes shifted to Lunitari. “Whereas your father, Gilean, is now the most powerful god in the heavens. Is it any coincidence that his daughter’s Red Robes run the Conclave?”
“The balance must be maintained!” Lunitari said, still smoldering. “Let me go, Cousin. I’m not going to harm him. Though I would like to snatch his black moon from the sky and shove it up his—”
“Peace, Cousin,” said Solinari soothingly. He turned to Nuitari. “The fact that the Red Robes are quite powerful may well be true, though I’m not saying it is,” he added as an aside with a cool glance at Lunitari. “Still, it doesn’t excuse what you did.”
“No it doesn’t,” Nuitari admitted. “And I want to make amends. I have a proposition. One I think will be agreeable to you both.”
“I’m listening, Cousin,” Solinari said. He seemed more grieved than angry.
Lunitari indicated, with an abrupt nod, that she was also interested to hear what he had to say.
“There are now three Towers of High Sorcery on Ansalon,” said Nuitari. “The Tower of Wayreth, the Tower of Nightlund, and my Tower in the Blood Sea. I suggest that, as it was in the days of the Kingpriest, each of the Robes be given its own Tower. The Red Robes will take control of the Tower of Wayreth. The White Robes will be ceded control of the Tower in Nightlund. My Black Robes will take over the Tower of the Blood Sea.”
The other two gods pondered this suggestion. The Tower of Wayreth was, to all intents and purposes, under the control of the Red Robes, since Jenna was Head of the Conclave and the Tower was the Conclave’s seat of power. The Tower of Nightlund had been closed since Dalamar had been banned from it as punishment. No wizard had been permitted to enter it, precisely for the reason that the gods feared the Tower would become a bone of contention, with both Black Robes and White Robes seeking to lay claim to it.
Nuitari had just provided a solution to the problem. Lunitari reflected on the fact that her cousin’s new Tower stood at the bottom of an ocean. It would not be easily accessible and was therefore not likely to pose much of a threat to her own power base. As for the Tower of Nightlund, it was located in the middle of one of the most deadly places on Krynn. If the White Robes did claim it, they would have to first battle their way to its threshold.
Solinari’s thoughts on the Blood Sea Tower were much the same as those of his cousin. His thoughts on the Nightlund Tower were also similar, except he was intrigued by the possibility of restoring the accursed land that now lay languishing beneath dark shadows. If his White Robes could remove the curse that lay over Nightlund, people could live there once again and prosper. All Ansalon would be in the debt of his White Robes.
“It’s something to consider,” said Lunitari grudgingly.
“I would like to think it over. But I am interested,” said Solinari.
Nuitari glanced around, as though he feared other immortal ears might be listening, then, with a gesture, he drew his cousins close.