They raised their hands and lowered them in the pre shy;scribed movements. Each wizard inscribed upon the fog a different portion of the magical traceries. The gestures of their fingers left blue, green, and red lines on the mist. Ancilla had stressed that each segment of the total was crucial, but to Tarscenian, each mage's work appeared to be nothing but errant scribbling.
The fog began to glow. The white robes gleamed like burnished silver.
"Bilum merit ayhannti," Calcidon sang in his elven tenor.
"Achet shiral pescumi. Relaquay," came the chanted reply of the group. The men's voices rumbled. The women's tones floated like feathers.
Suddenly the forty robes glittered like diamonds. They scattered light until tears streamed from the mages' eyes. Ancilla had been adamant: the mages' eyes must remain open, whatever their inclination to close them against the brilliance.
"Ayhannti, shiral liwix xhalot." Calcidon sang on. "Polopeque."
The shine that had transformed the robes now leaped out of the cloth as though it had life of its own. The glitter shone silver and white. Ice blue appeared in the swirling fog. The lines that the mages had traced formed into figures-a tree, a dragon, a lance, a crown.
Then they muted to nothingness.
The mist evaporated around the ring of mages and intensified above Ancilla's still form. The air filled with the clattering and chiming of bells.
"Shiral liwix trassdiv dhellil" Calcidon shrieked the words. Yet the other mages could barely hear him over the noise from the twisting tendrils of fog.
"Reveese rou ripow nad borrah rou carpeh," the mages shouted in unison. "Reveese rou ripow nad borrah rou carpeh!"
The fog enveloped all the mages. The light from a thousand stars exploded within the circle. Wooden bells, silver chimes, steel cymbals could be heard. Some of the mages began to bleed from the ears. Others cried out with pain and made as if to clap their hands over their eyes.
Then all disappeared. The fog vanished with them, revealing a late-afternoon mountaintop without tree or living beast.
All was silent.
At that moment, Ancilla shivered and awakened. Her green eyes stared blankly at Tarscenian for a moment. "I am alive?" she finally whispered. "They agreed to help us?" At Tarscenian's nod, the old woman accepted his hand and stood. She wobbled at first, then sup shy;ported herself without aid. Ancilla waved away Tarscenian's arm.
"By the Old Gods, Tarscenian, the power!" she whis shy;pered. "I have the might of two score mages inside of me."
Her companion waited while Ancilla composed herself. She closed her eyes, and her lips moved, but Tarscenian could not divine whether she spoke spell or prayer. After a few moments, Ancilla seemed to gain some control over the magical forces raging within her.
"This is our last chance, Tarscenian," Ancilla said res shy;olutely, looking up at her longtime friend and compan shy;ion. "We go now to Erolydon-to challenge my brother.
Chapter 4
Pounding and shouting at thc front door of their treetop mansion in Solace shook the Vakon family from their beds just after midnight. Jeffers, the manservant, was the first to the door, but Ceci Vakon, mistress of the home, followed a short distance behind.
"Is the master home?" Jeffers whispered to Ceci. He clutched a small axe of the variety normally used to chop kindling.
She shook her head. "Mendis isn't home yet. Perhaps something has happened to him."
A resonant voice boomed through the locked door. "Death to heretics!" Ceci recognized the booming bass voice as that of the high priest of the Seeker temple in Solace.
"High Priest Dahos!" she whispered. "And Hederick's
goblins. What are they doing here?"
Jeffers's face was young, pale, and defiant. "I'm the only man in the house," he said staunchly. "I will protect you."
"No. This must be a mistake," Ceci replied. "The High Theocrat promised us protection. Open the door. I'll speak to them."
The young servant followed her orders but kept the small axe in view and stood stubbornly in the doorway next to his mistress. Clutching her lacy nightrobe at her throat with one hand, she surveyed the tall, robed Plains shy;man and the half-dozen goblins who ranged on the walk shy;way just outside the door. Behind them was nothing but the forty-foot drop from the walkway to the forest floor. The Vakon home, like most in Solace, was built in the branches of a vallenwood tree, linked to the other treetop buildings by snakelike wood-and-rope walkways.
"What do you want?" Ceci demanded. "It's the middle of the night, Dahos. You've frightened my servants and my children."
Dahos inclined his head, and replied. "The High Court of the Seekers of the New Gods in Solace has convicted you and your family of heresy, Mistress Vakon." The for shy;mal tone could not mask the gleeful triumph in his dark eyes. "We are here to take you into church custody. Come outside."
"I will not!" Ceci Vakon retorted. "There's been a mis shy;take. We are under the protection of the High Theocrat of Solace. My husband will take care of this misunderstand shy;ing in the morning. Now go!" She turned on the ball of one foot, dismissing the dark-robed priest with a toss of her head.
Thus it was that she missed the signal that passed from Dahos to the six goblins. A half-dozen maces and spears came up to the ready.
But Jeffers saw. He drove his shoulder into Ceci's side
and sent her sprawling onto the walkway. He lifted his axe. He never got a chance to use it.
Out of the darkness flashed a spear-hurtling side shy;ways, like a long-handled sword, not point forward like an ordinary spear or lance. It was a movement peculiar to the Plainsman tribe from which Dahos hailed. The wea shy;pon slashed above the maces of several chattering goblins and cut through the manservant's neck like a cleaver through a round of cheese. Mendis Vakon's young sons piled into the room in time to see the loyal servant's head spin over the railing of the aerial walkway. His body crashed to the doorstep. Ceci Vakon and her children screamed in terror.
Several months ago, the cacophony would have brought dozens of neighbors running to their aid, but no one appeared now. All of Solace cowered under the boot heel of Hederick, the new High Theocrat of the treetop village.
"Yellow Eyes, take two goblins and empty the house," Dahos snapped at one of the goblins, whose broad nose twitched at the smell of Jeffers's blood. "There may be other servants within. If they resist, kill them. If not, bring them along. They'll bring more money to Erolydon's cof shy;fers. Find the daughter. Assemble them on the walkway, next to the railing, with their backs to the drop."
It was a complicated command for a goblin, but the one called Yellow Eyes was smart for that species. The leader of sorts, he scurried to obey. The high priest turned toward the far walkway.
"People of Solace!" he shouted into the darkness. "Bear this in mind! This is how Hederick, High Theocrat of Solace, rewards heretics and other sinners!"
Ceci Vakon, her young sons, teen-age daughter, and serving maids lined up on the walkway. The goblins scrambled through the dwelling, gathering platinum candlesticks, jeweled chalices, polished steel serving plates, and anything else that seemed valuable. The rest of the furnishings they destroyed.
"These precious objects will be better used in the holy setting of the temple Erolydon than in the lair of heretics," Dahos proclaimed. "We will consecrate them first, of course."
"My husband will avenge this!" Ceci snapped. "What are you going to do with us-pitch a woman and children off the walkway, pious coward that you are?" Ceci's daughter burst into tears, but her mother continued her brave but foolhardy speech. "My husband will have your head for this, High Priest. He'll go to the Highseekers Council in Haven! We are under Hederick's protection, I tell you!"