He made his way around the cellars and approached the nearest overman he saw. It was Fyrsh, relaxing by a campfire after his supper. He had no objection to loaning Garth his dagger. "After all," he said, "you've already got that sword if you want to start trouble."
Garth agreed, smiling, and thanked him. Then he found a quiet spot to sit and tried to cut the strap.
It was difficult slipping the blade under the strap at all; where a moment before it had seemed comfortably loose, it was now drawn tight across his chest. Finally, though, he managed to force it in and turned the blade, working it against the leather.
The blade was notched almost immediately, as if meeting steel.
Garth shifted it and tried again, sawing at the leather.
The blade snapped off completely, gashing his chest with the broken edge and cutting a long slit in his tunic before falling to the hard ground with a rattle.
The broken stump was of no use. He returned the pieces to Fyrsh with his sincere apologies and promised to pay for a new one.
It was growing late, and he had no further ideas that could be readily tried. Disgruntled, he set out to find somewhere to sleep. He did not care to be near other people; he was afraid that the sword might make him murder them while they slept.
After much walking, he settled down for the night in the shelter of a relatively intact stretch of the town's wall, midway between the North and East Gates. His sleep was calm and dreamless.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The first to arrive at the High King's castle was Karag of Sland, which was somewhat surprising; Stand lay almost two days' ride to the west of Kholis, and Shandiph knew there were other councilors closer at hand.
Furthermore, Karag did not come alone. The Baron of Sland had accompanied him, with a party of half a dozen black-clad soldiers.
The presence of the Baron made the arrival a matter of state; the High King was roused and formal presentation arranged. While this went on, Chalkara reported to the Chairman that a ragged stranger dressed in brown and carrying a staff had arrived at the scullery gate, refusing to give his name but insisting that Shandiph had sent for him.
"That's all right," Shandiph told her as he watched the High King accepting Karag's obeisance. "That would be Derelind the Hermit; he lives just south of here."
"Why wouldn't he tell me that?"
"Oh, he's a secretive young fool. Don't mind him."
Karag was rising now, and the six soldiers were being presented, together with a list of names and the honors they had received. Shandiph wondered how warriors could acquire so many marks of distinction on their records when the kingdom had been at peace for almost three hundred years.
"Should I find Derelind a guest chamber?"
"I don't know; ask him. He would probably prefer to sleep on the kitchen floor with the lower servants, and we may not have enough rooms for everybody, if we get a good response to the call."
Chalkara nodded and slipped away.
She was back by the time the soldiers had finished their ritual presentation. Now, by custom, the High King and the Baron would retire to the King's private council chamber for a report on the state of the Barony of Sland, and Shandiph would be able to speak to Karag without the Baron's presence.
"Now, my lord Baron; I would hear how your lands have fared since last we spoke." The King recited the traditional request slowly and precisely; it was plain to all present that he really didn't care how Sland fared, but was merely fulfilling his obligations. That was no surprise; the current King was perhaps the most worthless-to reign in Eramma to date.
Still, the ritual would proceed; to make it look good, the King and the Baron would have to stay in seclusion for at least a quarter of an hour. Shandiph suspected they would do little in that time other than drink a few toasts, but it gave him his chance to speak with Karag.
When the nobles had left the room, Shandiph started across the floor of the throne room. Karag met him halfway. Before Shandiph could begin a polite greeting, Karag snarled at him, "Have you gone mad, you old fool?"
Shandiph was taken aback. "What?"
"What in the name of all the gods did you think you were doing, summoning the Council to this castle?"
"This is a matter for the Council to discuss," Shandiph replied stiffly. Chalkara came up behind him as he spoke.
"So you blithely called us all here, to the castle of the High King at Kholis?"
"Yes, of course. Why not? I was here; as chairman, it is my prerogative to choose the meeting site. Further, Kholis is centrally located and has good roads."
"Does it mean nothing to you that our little group is supposed to be a secret organization, one whose existence is unknown to the world at large? For three centuries we have guarded that secret, and now you have virtually announced to the High King that there is an organization of wizards meeting here."
"I have done nothing of the sort. Is that why you came so promptly? To tell me this?"
"Yes, it is; I thought that, if I got here soon enough, I could talk sense to you and convince you to warn the others away. We have ridden night and day since half an hour after I received the summons."
"And you've brought the Baron of Sland with you."
"I had to; had I left without telling him, he would have had my head. I told him that I needed to speak with you immediately, and he insisted on accompanying me."
"And you call me a fool? Do you think he won't suspect that something out of the ordinary required such urgency?"
Chalkara interrupted Karag's sputtered reply. "Why did he come with you? Did you not tell him this was a matter involving only wizards and their affairs?"
"Yes, I told him; I think that's why he chose to come. He's been taking a great interest in magic lately, even asking if I could teach him a few simple spells."
"You haven't, have you?" Chalkara asked.
"Of course not! But as you have probably heard, it's unhealthy to deny Barach of Stand anything, however slight. I dared not argue with him about this trip as well."
"If there is anything that will reveal the nature of this meeting, Karag, it is his presence. The King pays no attention to what happens around him; he cares for nothing but wine, women, and old books. The servants and courtiers can be frightened or bribed into silence. The Baron of Sland, however, is not so easily handled." Shandiph tried his best to sound stern.
Karag paused for a moment, then said, with no trace of contrition, "Well, it's done now, and if we're to keep it secret you'll have to turn back all the others. I'm sure that the three of us can handle whatever this problem is by ourselves."
"The four of us; Derelind the Hermit is downstairs somewhere."
"Very well, then, the four of us. What is this worldshaking problem? Has someone stolen a love potion somewhere or caught a councilor kissing a baron's daughter?"
"The problem requires a quorum of the Council. An overman has gotten hold of a magic sword, a very powerful one, and has destroyed large parts of two cities. The Seer of Weideth has divined that he is beyond the power of ordinary measures. At the very least he'll require assassination, and we may need to be even more drastic. Now, Karag of Sland, do you feel I was unjustified in calling the Council together?"
There was a moment of silence.
"Are you sure of the facts?"
"The Seer of Weideth swore to them."
"Are you sure it was the true Seer?"
"No, but if it were not, Karag, then we have an even worse problem, do we not? The message was an imagesending; if it was not the Seer, then we have an enemy or traitor of unknown purpose and power to deal with."
"True. What cities were destroyed?"