With an effort Death mastered himself, and when next he spoke, his voice was calm again. “But this one last time, my children, I will let you pass.” Bowing low, he gestured toward the path they were to take. “The Well of Souls is there, Mage. See what you will, then take your lover and depart.” With that, he disappeared.
“That was a sudden change of heart.” Anvar glowered suspiciously at the spot the Specter had just vacated.
“Too damn sudden for me.” Aurian, too, was frowning. “All this sweetness and cooperation strike me as not only out of character, but just a bit too easy....”
Anvar felt a frisson of unease. “We’d better not waste time,” he said hastily.
“Let’s see whatever you want to see, then maybe we can get out of here before he changes his mind.”
“And springs his trap,” Aurian finished the thought for him. As Anvar looked at her his heart was kindled with a blaze of courage, confidence, and joy.
“Gods, but I’ve missed you,” he said softly.
“And I you.” The Mage took his hand and clasped it tightly. “Come on, let’s go—and as we walk you can tell me how you managed to get into this mess,” she added soberly.
Hand in hand with Anvar, Aurian entered the sacred grove and bowed to the trees, who stood aside to let the Mages pass. Within moments they came to the clearing where the Well of Souls lay cradled in its bed of soft, deep moss.
“Will you watch over me?” the Mage asked Anvar softly. “I don’t want to go falling in—who knows where I might end up.”
“Or as what,” said Anvar soberly. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you go.”
“Keep a sharp lookout for Death, too. He’s up to something, I’m sure of it....” She knelt reverently on the pool’s cushioned brink and laid the Staff down on the moss beside her. Lowering her head, she peered down into the infinite starry depths. Great spears of light lanced up from the surface, dazzling the Mage’s eyes. When her vision cleared, the galaxies within the pool were whirling; spinning, in a maelstrom of streaked light. Biting her lip with concentration, Aurian dipped a finger into the Well of Souls and bent her thoughts upon her enemy....
The winged priest lay twisted on the floor of the Temple precincts, a long spear transfixed through his heart. Eliseth knelt over him, the grail clutched in her hands. “He’s dead all right.” She smiled up in satisfaction at the winged warrior who stood over her, wiping the blood from his hands. “Nice work, my Lord Sunfeather. He won’t have known what hit him. Now, for the second part of our plan—if you would just pull out the spear first.” She gave a short and mirthless laugh. “I doubt if even the Caldron of Rebirth could keep him alive very long with a spear stuck through his heart....”
The winged man planted a booted foot on the High Priest’s chest and wrenched the bloody spear loose with a vicious twist. “And get rid of the accursed thing,” Eliseth hissed at him. “When Skua returns he won’t have any memory of what happened, but we might find that a little difficult to explain.”
Quickly, the Magewoman poured water from the chalice into the gaping hole in Skua’s chest, and watched with satisfaction as the mangled flesh and splintered ribs began to piece themselves together again. She was accustomed now to the fact that the grail’s magic took a few minutes to work, and sat back on her heels to await the outcome with confidence. “There,” she said with great satisfaction. “Skua is ours. Now that I’ve brought him back with the Caldron, I can control his every move—and he’ll never know a thing about it.”
“He was ours in any case,” Sunfeather grumbled. “I don’t see why it was necessary to go through all this—I don’t think ...”
“I told you before—leave the thinking to me!” Eliseth snapped, with a flash of irritation. A plague on this innocent who lacked the subtlety for intrigue!—This thickheaded warrior might know military strategy but he had absolutely no feel for the finer nuances of plot and counterplot!
Seeing Sunfeather frown, the Magewoman reined in her temper. “I already explained,” she said with labored patience. “Skua was getting too many ideas of his own about what the Gods wanted and didn’t want. He was beginning to actually believe those powers he’s been using are his own—a gift from Yinze.—The Father of Skies, indeed,” she snorted. “In whose name he would eventually have betrayed us both. Well, we’ll have no more of that!”
The Skyman looked doubtful. “You think he would have betrayed me?” he asked.
“I know he would have betrayed you, you idiot. He was already trying to persuade me that he could handle things, and we didn’t need you to command the Syntagma.” Eliseth glanced up shrewdly at the warrior. “And if he was conspiring with me against you, it’s almost a certainty that he was plotting with you against me.”
“Nay, Lady—there was never any suggestion ...” But Sunfeather could not quite meet her eyes, and Eliseth knew, with malicious glee, that her words had hit their target, and she’d been right about Skua all along.
Sunfeather was scowling and shuffling his feet—just like a young lad caught out in mischief, the Magewoman thought. “And what about me?” he demanded sulkily. “What if you decide that I am a danger to your plans? Do you intend the same dire fate for me?”
“You?” said Eliseth dismissively. She turned away from him and back to Skua, who was beginning to stir and groan. “You won’t betray me, Lord Sunfeather.—You have more sense—and you’ve just had a demonstration of exactly what will happen to you if you try.”
Aurian, looking at the scene through the Well’s clear, glassy surface, saw the High Priest open his eyes. She remembered Skua—a malign, ambitious, treacherous piece of work if ever there was one. Though these developments boded ill, and she viewed them with grave concern, she was spitefully glad that a nemesis such as Eliseth had been wished upon the base perfidious, self-serving ...
“Aaaah . . .” Skua opened his eyes. “In the name of Yinze, what happened to me?”
“Hush, High Priest,” Eliseth soothed him. “You were taken ill—I have warned you often of the dangers of overextending yourself in your zeal.” She laid a hand on his arm. “We must take better care of you—you are far too valuable to be allowed to jeopardize your health in this fashion.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine—just help me up. That is, if you please, Lady.”
“I’ll do it.” Sunfeather extended a brawny arm and hoisted Skua to his feet.
“Now, High Priest, you must rest,” the Weather-Mage insisted, swirling the remains of the water in the grail. “There will be time enough later for you to tell me how went the meeting between your courier and the Queen-Regent of the Khazalim....”
“What?” Aurian gasped in shock. “Where in the name of all the Gods does Sara fit in with this particular vipers’ nest?”
“Sara?” Anvar leaned over the Mage’s shoulder to look into the pool. “She’s viper enough to fit right in with the worst of them. What are they sayi.. .”
“Now, I have you both at last! And this time you will be reborn!”
Aurian caught a glimpse of the Specter’s dark, looming figure, then she felt Anvar stagger against her, pushing her off balance, down toward the surface of the Well.
The Mage got one flailing hand deep into the moss beside the brink. Clenching her fingers, she hung on with all her strength and braced herself, giving Anvar a split second to get his legs beneath him and hurl himself to one side.—Then Aurian saw movement from the corner of her eye. The Staff of Earth, dislodged by their struggles, was rolling into the pool. She made a desperate grab with her free hand. Her fingers brushed the Staff even as it splashed into the Well and she clamped them tight around the very end of the serpent-carved shaft. But the Well clung to the Staff of Earth, holding it tightly and sucking it deeper beneath the surface. Leaning perilously out over the waters, Aurian held on until she thought her arm would tear loose from its socket. She was damned if she’d let go of the Artifact. Once it vanished into the Well of Souls it could end up on one of a million worlds and would be lost forever.