Kasarian’s face had blanched. During Nolar’s reading and Morfew’s alarming remarks, Kasarian had been sitting motionless, not even twisting his restored signet ring. “While Elsenar meddled in my mind,” he said in a bitter tone, “I also became aware of some of his thoughts. At first, I did not recall the details of that . . . unnatural experience, but now that you discuss the matter of Gates and posterns, I remember certain of Elsenar’s thoughts concerning such things.” He gripped the edge of the table, his eyes flashing with anger. “There were other postern spells—but it is like hearing echoes in a cave! I cannot fully grasp his thoughts, but I know that Elsenar possessed knowledge of other posterns and possibly other Gates.” Kasarian paused, then added slowly, “If other accursed magical openings exist into Alizon from Escore, then the danger is even worse than we earlier imagined. I beg you to seek any word in Lormt’s archives that could tell us how such horrors might be detected and sealed off!”
“The danger you rightly perceive,” Duratan said grimly, “is not limited to Alizon alone. Consider, my friends, what might befall Estcarp should the present-day Dark mages become aware of any former passageways bespelled in ancient times between Escore and Estcarp? Or, for that matter, if they determine to conjure such a postern now for the purposes of invasion?”
I handed Nolar another written query. She read aloud for me, “Should we not send an immediate warning to the Council of Witches in Es City? Surely this new realization of an added dimension to the threat from Escore must be conveyed to them.”
“I fear,” Ouen said, his voice sharp with regret, “that any warning from Lormt would be doubly discredited by the Witches. They have ever scorned us for our maleness, and they would be all the more offended, if not outraged, that the original source of our warning is an Alizonder baron.”
“We must also remember the Witches’ painfully diminished strength,” Nolar observed sorrowfully. “Even should they pay heed to us, I fear they could not mount any significant countermeasures. Despite frantic efforts to train new Witches, the Council has not yet restored the awful losses they incurred during the Turning.”
Grasping for the slightest of encouragements, Morfew ventured, “Perhaps Estcarp’s existing spell-watch along the border with Alizon could be strengthened to some degree.”
Jonja’s face, too, had paled. “I could attempt to establish a Sending to Es City,” she offered. “Just before the Turning, the Council of Witches warned us here at Lormt so that we might take some advance precautions. I received their Sending. They maintain a constant mental watch at Es Castle; I might be able to reach that Watch Witch. I must tell you frankly, however, that I doubt a call from Lormt would be accepted.”
“We could send a written message,” Nolar began, but Duratan interrupted her. “During the prolonged clashes with Karsten,” he said, “I served with the Witches as a Borderer. I believe that I could present our case to better effect if I rode to Es City and faced the Council.”
“I shall accompany you,” Jonja declared. “In the Witches’ sight, I may be considered less than those who devote themselves exclusively to mastering the uses of Power. Although my talents are limited to treating the ills of the body and spirit, as an undefiled female, I may stand before the Council without apology. When Estcarp’s very life is vulnerable to so grave a threat, the Council cannot refuse to listen to us.”
Kasarian smiled ruefully. “I would request to ride with you,” he said, “but I perceive I would be no more welcome at Es Castle than would be a Witch who craved audience before our Lord Baron. It occurs to me that my original warning might impress the Witches more favorably were it not obtained voluntarily. Pray inform the Council of Witches that I betrayed my tale to you unwittingly while your captive and ill with fever.”
Nolar shook her head. “A wise person takes care to speak the truth to Witches,” she advised. “They can discern any efforts to deceive them.”
I handed her another sheet of parchment so that she might read my plea. “Those of us who remain at Lormt must begin without delay to seek any other scraps of writing that may have been left here by Elsenar. Earlier, we found part of his journal. Surely additional documents of his may yet be discovered—perhaps some which identify the sites of other posterns or Gates.”
Ouen pushed back his chair. “Morfew and I will compose a corroborative letter,” he said decisively. “Since this day is already far advanced, Duratan and Jonja will desire to depart for Es Castle early on the morrow. Meanwhile, we must indeed act upon Mereth’s apt injunction. I shall ask all able scholars to join in our search. Any documents bearing Elsenar’s unreadable hand will be fetched at once to Mereth for her transcription. May we be guided by the Light in these vital tasks!”
33
Kasarian—events at Lormt
(2nd Day, Moon of the Spotted Viper/3rd Day, Month of the Fringed Violet)
Mereth raised a devastating question: might there be other sorcerous posterns existing from ancient times? Morfew compounded the horror by reminding us of those far more substantial magical openings, the Gates, which led to and from strange, unthinkably distant sites such as the place whence Simon Tregarth sprang, or the hideous home nest of the Kolder. I exhorted the Lormt folk to plunder their archives for any word that might instruct us how to locate and seal such frightful breaches.
As I listened to their subsequent discussion on how to warn Estcarp’s Witches, my feelings were violently at odds. The very notion of meeting with those redoubtable crones made my skin crawl . . . yet I had to acknowledge the perverse sense of Gurborian’s own argument which I had overheard in Alizon Castle. When detestable magical forces were arrayed against you, was it not far better to have similarly empowered forces acting in your defense? Gurborian had schemed to pit Escore’s Dark mages against Estcarp’s Witches; surely I must admit the advantages of the reverse case. If Estcarp’s Witches could be marshaled—however weakened they might be—to respond on our behalf in countering the Escorian threat, then our faction would at least possess some magical Power to turn aside the horrid assaults we must expect to endure. I was privately much relieved that the Lormt folk renounced my participation in the mission to warn Estcarp’s Council of Witches.
As the Lormt folk arose to address their individual tasks, I accosted Duratan’s mate. Before I could return to Alizon, I had to make a vital request. “If you would assist me, Lady,” I said, “I should be grateful. I cannot appear at Krevonel Castle with my hair in this garish state.”
Somewhat to my surprise, Duratan’s mate smiled. “It seems almost a pity to bleach it,” she remarked. “You make a distinguished appearance with dark hair. . . .” Before I could protest, she hastily added, “I shall ask Master Pruett whether the silver nettle preparation we used to lighten Mereth’s hair can reverse the effects wrought by my shred-bark dye. Come along with me and we shall attempt to recover your proper baronial guise.”
Several times during the acrid herbal drenching that followed, I half-suspected I might drown. To my considerable relief, however, once I wiped the last of the rinsing water from my eyes, I saw from my reflection in the silver tray that my hair had been restored to its natural Alizonian hue.
After I had dried myself to a presentable state, I hurried back to Morfew’s chambers, where I found Mereth and Morfew diligently sorting through heaps of documents.
Morfew glanced up at me when I entered, and nodded in approval. “I must say,” he observed, “I prefer your authentic aspect. If you are determined to go back to Krevonel without being attacked on sight, you certainly could not bear that remarkable coloration suited to a Dalesman.”