Even the clouding magic was ebbing away.
"What damage?" Bal-Simba asked. Down in the pit a talker passed her hands over her crystal again and her lips moved silently.
"Three villages burned, Lord. Alton, Marshmere and Willow-by-the-Sea. A hard fight at Wildflower Meadows where a band of trolls gained the wall and torched some houses. There are others but I cannot see clearly yet. And the battle casualties, of course." She shrugged. The last were not her concern.
Bal-Simba frowned. "Little. Surprisingly little for such an effort."
Arianne looked up tiredly. "We were too strong for them," she said.
"Or they did not push too strongly," the High Lord said half to himself. He turned quickly to his talker.
"Get reports from all the land. I want to know what else has happened."
"Isn’t this enough Lord?" asked Arianne.
"No," Bal-Simba told his apprentice grimly. "It is not nearly enough. I would learn the rest of the price we paid this night."
"Sparrow? Sparrow." Dimly and faintly Wiz heard Moira’s voice calling from a great distance. He stirred, but his head hurt terribly and he just wanted to sleep.
"Sparrow, wake up, please." Moira’s voice? No. Shiara’s. He was laying on the floor and there was smoke in the air. He pushed himself to his hands and knees. His head spun from the effort.
Shiara helped him stand. "Quickly," she said. "We must leave."
"Moira?" Wiz asked weakly.
"Outside! Hurry."
"I won’t leave Moira."
"She’s not here. Now outside." Wiz clasped her hand in his and started for the door.
As he led the way down the stairs he stumbled on a small limp form in front of the stairway.
"It’s Ugo," he said, bending down. He gasped as he saw the horrible gaping wound that nearly severed the goblin’s head from his shoulders.
Shiara knelt and moved between him and the body. She gently cradled it in her arms and the ends of her long silver hair turned dark and sodden where they touched the goblin’s breast.
"Oh Ugo, Ugo," she crooned. "I brought you so far and for so little." By the flickering orange light Wiz could see the tears streak her face.
"He’s dead, Lady." A fierce, hot gust brought choking gray strawsmoke and the pungent odor of burning pine up the stairwell. "Come, Lady," Wiz tugged at her sleeve. "Come on. We’ve got to get out of here."
Shiara raised her head. "Yes," she said. "Yes we must." She picked up Ugo’s body, supporting the nearly severed head with one hand, cradling him as if he were a baby. For the first time Wiz realized how small the goblin had been.
With Wiz leading, they groped down the stairs, gasping in the heat and blinking from the thick smoke. Wiz guided Shiara through the blazing Great Hall, past the overturned furniture and patches where the floor burned fiercely. As they skirted along one wall, they passed the window seat. Wiz saw that the chair he had moved so long ago lay on its side roughly where he had dragged it.
They picked their way over the shattered remains of the door and out into the courtyard. The cold night air was like balm on their faces and they sucked great, gasping lungfuls, coughing and hacking up dark mucus that reeked of smoke.
Behind them the flames consumed Heart’s Ease and shot high into the sky, grasping for the pitiless stars.
Eleven
Hacking Back
Heart’s Ease burned the whole night through. Far into the bleak winter morning sudden tongues of flame leapt from the ruins as the rubble shifted and the embers found fresh fuel. The walls stood, black and grim, but a little before dawn the roof crashed in, carrying with it what was left of the floors. There was nothing to do but stand aside and watch the flames. There was no help for Heart’s Ease.
Shiara buried Ugo, refusing Wiz’s offer of aid. Wiz didn’t press. He sat alone, wrapped in Shiara’s smoke-stained blue velvet cloak, utterly filled with pain and misery. Not even the chill of the stone beneath him penetrated.
It was mid-morning when Bal-Simba arrived. He came upon the Wizard’s Way, accompanied by a party of armed and armored guardsmen who quickly spread out to search for any of the League’s servants who might remain. The wizard closeted himself with Shiara for the rest of the day.
Wiz barely noticed. About noon he got up from his rock and returned to the tiny stable workroom in the clearing outside the palisade. It was almost evening when Bal-Simba found him there.
"You will be leaving Heart’s Ease," he told Wiz gently. "There is nothing left worth staying for. The Lady Shiara has agreed to accept accommodation closer to the Capital and you will live in the Wizard’s Keep itself. There is no longer any point in trying to hide you, it seems."
Wiz just nodded mutely.
"Shiara has told me what happened yesterday," he went on. "I hope you learned from it." He paused. "I am sorry the lesson had to be taught at such great cost," he said more gently.
Wiz said nothing. There was nothing to say. Bal-Simba waited, as if expecting some reply.
"What about Moira?" Wiz asked at last.
"Most likely she was stolen away for questioning in the City of Night. The raid here was masked by a whole series of attacks all along our southern perimeter. It seems the League has a powerful interest in your kind of magic so I would expect she will be taken to their citadel for interrogation."
"Shiara said it was me they were after," Wiz said miserably.
"Most likely. The League has been tearing the North apart seeking knowledge of you ever since you were Summoned. When your actions drew their attention here they came looking for a magician and Moira was the only one they could find."
"What will they do with Moira?"
Bal-Simba hesitated. "For now, nothing. The Shadow Warriors are fierce and cruel, but they are disciplined. Doubtless their orders are to bring her alive and unhurt to their master."
"And then?"
Bal-Simba looked grave and sad. "Then they will find out what they wish to know. You do not want the details."
"We’ve got to get her back!"
"We are searching," Bal-Simba said. "The Watchers have been scouring the plenum for trace of her. Our dragon riders patrol as far south as they dare. We have sent word to all the villages of the North and searchers have gone out."
"Can they find her?"
Bal-Simba hesitated. "I will not lie to you, Sparrow. It will be difficult. The Shadow Warriors use little magic and they are masters of stealth. We are doing everything we can."
"But you don’t think they’ll find her." It was a statement not a question.
"I said it would be difficult," Bal-Simba sighed. "The Shadow Warriors may already be upon the Freshened Sea, or even back in the City of Night itself. If that is so, she is lost. We only know they did not transport her magically."
"We’ll have to go get her! We can’t let them have her."
Bal-Simba sighed again and for the first time since Wiz had known him he appeared mortal—tired and defeated.
"I’m sorry Sparrow. Even if she is already upon the sea there is nothing we can do."
Rage rose up in Wiz, burning away the guilt and grief. "Maybe there’s nothing you can do, but there’s something I can do."
"What is that?"
Wiz interlaced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. "I’m gonna hack the system," he said smiling in a manner that was not at all pleasant.
"Eh?"
"Those sons-of-bitches want magic? All right. I’ll give them magic. I’ll give them magic like they’ve never seen before!"