“Pahd, I’ll not play word games with you,” said Flayh as he walked brusquely to the side of Pahd’s bed-shaped throne. “I understand that you need a court sorcerer.”
“That’s what my mother says.”
Flayh examined the man closely. This was the first time he’d ever met the one they called the sloth-King face to face. Always before, he had discounted the stories of the man’s laziness, but Pahd was certainly living up to his reputation today. It was hard to imagine that this lump on the bed could also be one of the foremost swordsmen in the world, “I’ve come to offer my services,” Flayh explained.
“Flayh,” Pahd said to himself. “I know of Joooms, and that troublesome Mar-Yilot… Terril… Pelmen of course. Never heard of a power shaper named Flayh. You new to the trade?”
“I am.” Flayh nodded.
Pahd yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Ah, what will you need? What are your requirements?”
“All I ask is a tower of my own to practice my arts and free access to every part of your fortress.”
Pahd smiled in surprise. “Free access? Is that really necessary?” The King chuckled. “I somehow can’t feature walking into my private chamber and finding you casting a spell on it.”
“I can’t feature you walking anywhere,” Chogi snorted.
“Chogi!” Sane scolded.
“Well, I can’t,” the square-jawed matron replied. “We’ve gotta carry him everywhere he goes.”
“Perhaps I should retire and let you decide,” Flayh suggested.
“Oh, no.” Pahd smiled. “Why not decide, then I can retire.” The King studied Flayh carefully, then looked at his mother. “Well, what do I decide?”
Chogi wheeled around to Flayh. “Your wishes are granted. I know just the tower for you, it’s right by this one. You’ll love it. And of course it is very convenient to the kitchens and the library so that you’ll be able to ” Her voice faded away as she escorted Flayh from the room, her sizable forearm wrapped around his thin shoulders.
Pahd was still chuckling. “I think mother’s got a new beau. Poor fellow ” he added.
Sane regarded the door uneasily as she strolled over to sit on her husband’s bed. “Did you really want him here?”
“Why not? Mother’s obviously taken with him. And if she’s with him ”
Pahd grabbed the sheets and pulled them over his head. ” maybe she’ll let me sleep.”
It was hours later before Flayh was finally able to shake himself from the demanding admiration of Chogi lan Pahd-el. Free at last, Flayh paced through the uppermost room of his new tower and out a doorway. A tiny balcony, not more than four feet from tower to balustrade, ringed the spire, and Flayh stalked this circle, gazing down on the awesome view spread below him.
Except for the blocky citadel occupied by King Pahd and his family, this was the loftiest point in the royal fortress which meant it was lofty indeed. Flayh had the sensation that he stood on the top of the world. The spring rains had cleansed the air of dust, and he could see to mountain peaks on every horizon. It thrilled him, this pow-ershaper life, and he vowed never to return to that other existence, where power was nothing more than the shadowy possibility of political influence.
From this vantage point Flayh could see that his new power need know no bounds. “I stand atop the greatest fortress in the world,” he whispered to himself and he was right.
The High Fortress of Ngandib was founded on a small rock plateau, which sat in turn in the middle of a much larger plateau. The city of Ngandib covered the eastern half of this larger tableland from its very edges to the base of the castle’s rock. The western half of the plateau was a gigantic basin carved of stone a man-made reservoir dug to contain the city’s precious water supply. To reach the city, a traveler had to climb a switchback road carved into the eastern cliff face, which rose five thousand feet from the valley floor below.
Theoretically, this road could be defended from above so easily that no army would ever be capable of taking Ngandib by storm. The theory had gone untested throughout the centuries, since no one had ever thought it sensible to try such a thing. The residents of this lofty plain boasted smugly that they lived in a city without walls their cliffs were all the defense they needed.
Should an invader by some miracle reach the city, he would find yet another insurmountable obstacle to conquest in the positioning of the fortress. Since it was built atop that smaller outcropping of rock, its parapets extended another six hundred feet above the plateau floor far too lofty to scale. The only entrance was through a cave chiseled into the rock beneath the castle, and up a long flight of interior stairs. Of course, Pahd never climbed the stairs. He rode, instead, on a primitive lift, operated by slaves from the upper chambers.
“Absolutely inaccessible,” Flayh breathed, staring beyond the palace walls, past the larger plateau, to the far distant valleys more than a mile below. From this height the view was partially blocked by clouds.
Flayh had never seen the upper side of a cloud before. The very thought made his heart pound. “Invincible,” he muttered. It wasn’t clear, even in his own mind, whether he meant the fortress or himself.
No matter, for soon they could be one. He slipped back inside the tower and pulled a couple of precious treasures from his luggage. The first was his pyramid, which he slipped from its velvet bag and placed on the table. The second was the ancient grimoire. He sat down, laid the book open before him at the proper page, and began to chant.
As the light in Dragonsgate waned, Admon Faye watched Bronwynn defend herself. He could barely contain his pleasure. What he’d been unable to accomplish with threats and arguments, one self-righteous skyfaither had done in a matter of minutes. “I’m amazed at your transition,”
Admon Faye grunted, as he watched Bronwynn make short work of an attacking slaver.
“I learn quickly when I choose to,” she replied grimly.
“You do, indeed,” he cackled. “Your stuttering bull has met his match.” In answer, she smoothly attacked and disarmed another brigand.
“But I wasn’t meaning your battle skills. Your instincts for that have always been good; it was just a question of tapping that hostility bottled inside you. No, I’m more interested in your ah spiritual transformation,”
The Wizard to Waiting
Bronwynn shot the slaver an ugly look. “Don’t push it.”
“But you were such a stalwart defender of the sky faithful he mocked.
“I said don’t push it!” Bronwynn shouted, spinning to face him and whipping her dagger from its scabbard.
Admon Faye gazed up at her coolly, un cowed by her fierce expression.
“Still threatening me,” he murmured. “That’s not a good sign. You haven’t yet learned who gives directions in the new family of Faye.” He got slowly to his feet. “What do you choose, Bronwynn? Knives? I’ll flay a patch of skin off your back not where it will show, you understand, except to yourself in a mirror. You prefer swords? Then I’ll take off let’s say four of your toes. A six-toed queen is just as much a regent, isn’t she? Or would you rather choose staves? I’ll leave you with one ear delicate and shapely, the other the size of a melon. Your choice, child. Which?”
Bronwynn blinked twice, then sheathed her knife.
The slaver nodded. “I take that to mean you yield?” Bronwynn bit her lip. “Do you yield?” Admon Faye demanded, stepping to her and grabbing her under the chin.
“I yield,” Bronwynn whispered. The words tasted bitter.
Admon Faye’s twisted smile spread across his ravaged face once again.
“Good. Then we ride.” At that single word, the host of gathered slavers sprang into a whirlwind of activity.
“Now?” she asked. “The sun’s almost gone.”
“Right.” He nodded.