Isolated at Lormt, I felt simultaneously burdened and challenged by my sudden opportunity to influence the course of Alizon’s future existence. Elsenar’s journal could not be gainsaid. To my personal distress, the mage’s narrative cited not only his redoubtable jewel, but also his key to the postern beneath Krevonel Castle—that very elder’s key preserved by the females of our Line. That it should have been originally presented to our Forelady Kylaina by Elsenar caused my fingers to tingle at its remembered touch . . . yet without that key, I should not have been able to travel to Lormt. Nor, for that matter, could I deny that without some measure of the mage’s tainted blood, I should not have passed through the postern at all. That was an even more daunting realization—that I must necessarily possess mage blood. I had to brace my body to prevent it from shuddering in the open view of the Lormt folk.
I forced myself to concentrate. In all my study of our Line’s lore, I had never encountered word of any such prize as Elsenar’s jewel. By Alizonder Line-right, however, it clearly should have descended through the Line Sired by Krevonel. War booty claim or no, Lord Baron’s bestowal claim or no, Gurborian could not retain the jeweclass="underline" it belonged to Krevonel.
My blood ran cold at the thought. I had heard the whispers about the cursed jewel from the Dales. None could state the full cost in lives associated with it before Lord Baron Facellian seized it. As an Alizonder, I knew that I should experience a blazing desire to claim so great a treasure for our Line . . . but the idea of possessing an object so steeped in magic tore at my vitals like the claws of a dire wolf. Still, I could not deny that Alizon’s very future depended upon preventing Gurborian’s potential Escorian allies from ever nearing Elsenar’s jewel.
The Lormt folk persisted in discussing former unleashings of vast spell powers within and nearby the citadel. Such talk was unsettling. Should these Lormt folk succeed in securing the jewel, might they not surrender it to Estcarp’s Witches? I could identify no desirable choice between the two sword edges confronting me. I could not, for Alizon’s sake, abide either alternative; neither Escore nor Estcarp could be allowed to control that awful jewel. I therefore offered to attempt the jewel’s recovery myself, should it prove possible to proceed back through Elsenar’s postern to Alizon City.
Duratan at once challenged my offer, demanding that he and others accompany me, but once again we were interrupted by the Dales female. Duratan’s mate read out Mereth’s reminder that only those of Elsenar’s blood could travel through his postern. To my utter astonishment, she then asserted that she should be selected to accompany me! She did present some cogent arguments—that her Witch-like power of touch implied mage blood, and her pack’s tradition of owning the jewel linked her to Elsenar.
I regret that I failed to contain my instant reaction of scorn for such a ludicrous proposal. The idea that an elderly female would dare to claim a role in high male affairs of state deserved only the laughter of disbelief . . . but I saw at once that the Lormt folk’s view was contrary to mine. They did not laugh. Indeed, Morfew informed me that the Dales females were distinctly unlike ours, being as active in affairs as males, which I found a most disagreeable perception, but did not say so.
Mereth herself wrote an acid defense of her war experience, which I realized had to be taken into account, even despite her advanced age. How was I to know the capacity for agility and endurance possessed by these unnatural females?
Ouen then suggested that I withdraw to my chamber to consider Mereth’s offer, while they remained to deliberate upon my proposal. I welcomed the chance to reflect upon the disconcerting body of information laid before us in so short a time. I bowed to him, and to Mereth, and hastened through the corridors, striving to impose some order upon my agitated thoughts.
It was evident that I had to revise my appraisal of this Dales female, Mereth. Perhaps her appearance could be explained if her blood had come down through Elsenar’s Alizonian alliance. I had wondered earlier if she was part Witch; in one respect, the actuality might prove even worse—she could be part mage! She had not, however, been previously aware of her blood-tie until she read Elsenar’s journal, so she was not a trained mage, mistress of many hideous spells. She could, however, sense information by touch, a frightening talent . . . but one that might serve us well in locating the jewel if it should be hidden away. As I reviewed all that I had learned at Lormt, the beginnings of a plan stirred in my mind. When the Wise Woman came to escort me back to the group, I was ready to amend my original offer.
Once I had taken my place at the table, Ouen immediately announced that the Lormt folk had tentatively accepted Mereth’s offer, depending upon the details of my plan for retrieving Elsenar’s jewel from Gurborian.
I decided to address my proposal directly to Mereth for two reasons. First, out of courtesy to a possible comrade in arms on a potentially fatal mission; and second, out of curiosity to see how she would react.
“I crave your pardon, lady,” I began, “for my earlier outburst. I have been trained in the customs of Alizon, and I do not as yet fully comprehend your ways. I did not intend to offend you. I have carefully pondered what you wrote, and if you dare to be bold and resolute, I think I perceive one way by which you might be accepted in Alizon City.” I paused, but she merely nodded, and gestured for me to proceed. “In my earliest youth,” I resumed, “I was fostered with my sire’s elder littermate—”
Morfew interrupted. “These folk are more familiar with the form ‘uncle,’ ” he explained, “just as they tend to say ‘brothers’ or ‘sisters’ rather than male or female littermates, and ‘family’ instead of pack.”
I bowed to him. “I thank you for such useful words to increase my understanding of your speech. My . . . uncle, Baron Volorian, still lairs at his manor far to the north and east of Alizon City. His letters first alerted me to Gratch’s probes among the mountains adjoining Escore. Volorian is the oldest living male in our . . . family, and is eminent for his intense hatred of any traffic with magic. Since my sire was murdered by Gurborian’s hirelings, Volorian has essentially avoided Alizon City, being occupied with his hound breeding, for which he is also duly famed. None in the City now would likely recall him well enough to doubt you, lady, should you appear, posing as Baron Volorian.”
The Lormt party stirred in their chairs, obviously dismayed by my suggestion. Having launched my initial thrust in what I had to view as a duel with words instead of swords, I hastened to press my advantage. “You are much the same size and age as Volorian, lady,” I said to Mereth. “Your hair, of course, would have to be properly shortened and perhaps brightened. Your lack of voice, however, does pose a problem.”
Morfew unexpectedly smiled. “I discern a simple solution for that difficulty,” he observed. “Could we not say that a winter ague has temporarily quenched your uncle’s voice? It is a common enough ailment among us here at Lormt—our Master Pruett is kept busy in his herbarium through all the winter months, brewing soothing syrups to restore lost voices.”
I was favorably impressed by his quick wit. “That would do very well. I could explain my current absence from Alizon City,” I continued, “as a sudden journey in response to a summons from Volorian to confer with him at his manor.”
“But you just said that Volorian has avoided any possible contact with his brother’s murderer all these years,” the Wise Woman objected. “How could you now devise a way that the two of them could meet without blood being shed? I gather,” she added, nodding toward Morfew, “that you Alizonders cherish your feuds.”