"I hope you like the bread," he said. "It is one of the classic recipes. I conjured it just as it was baked a thousand years ago, in the ovens of Ergoth."
"It… it is very good," she said cautiously. As if reminding herself, she tore off another large piece and chewed it vigorously, following the bread with a large drink of cold milk. Only after she had swallowed the food did she look at him curiously. "You said you are the 'Master of the Tower.' What does that mean?" she asked.
He sighed and allowed himself the liberty of sitting at the table near her as she slowly resumed her eating.
"In a sense, I am this tower… the presence, the sentience of this place, such as it exists. This flesh, this body you see"- he indicated himself, the elderly man in the white robe-"is something that I choose, that I can vary."
In that very instant he changed, for her benefit. Now he wore a red robe and sat tall, a proud man with black skin and a haughty demeanor. Then he became a female, garbed in a slinky black robe, with eyes shadowed in blue henna and a mouth that curled in a demure smile. In another blink he was Par-Salian again, holding up a liver-spotted hand to calm the girl-who was staring at him in amazement.
"I am the Tower, and I am all who dwelled here, all who served as the Heads of the Conclave and all who studied under their tutelage. This tower has stood for thousands of years, and in that time there have been many who have ruled the orders of magic. Mostly humans, but some elves… I can select the forms of any of them. But I chose Par-Salian, for you."
"Thank you," she said. "I–I think I like this one better than some of the other shapes you might have adopted."
He chuckled dryly. "Well, thank you for humoring an old man, in any event."
"But why am I here? I was traveling with two great wizards, and I know they were seeking this tower. Why did I find it, and they did not?"
"Because you, Child, are the one-the only one-who can help me, now."
"Help you? How?"
He sighed. "There are bad men here. Men who are killing me. I invited them in because the gods commanded me to find a wizard to take the Tower. I summoned them-well, not them, but a wizard. These two came under false pretenses, bearing an artifact of potent magic, wielding it as great wizards would. But they are not wizards. They are sorcerers, wielders of wild magic. They dwell here like a cancer in my flesh, slowly taking my life."
"How can I help you?" The girl seemed mystified but- this was encouraging to the Master-bold.
"You must take the Test of Magic," said the Master.
"A test of magic? Why? How could I?"
"The Test will know you, do not worry. But you must convince them to let you live long enough to take the Test. If they kill you, then all is lost."
"I daresay!" the girl said, her eyes widening in alarm. Where are they now?"
The old man shrugged. "Elsewhere in the Tower. It is a very large place. But no doubt they will find you, soon enough."
She was courageous, this girl, but couldn't help looking around in some apprehension. "How can I fight them?"
"Oh, you can't. They are much too powerful for that. Even I cannot fight them-especially the tall one, with the long beard. He is most dangerous. And he bears the Irda Stone."
"The what-stone? Never mind. Tell me, why shouldn't I run away, while I still have a chance? I don't want to be killed!"
"If you leave here now, then all is lost-for me, you, and others to come. No, you must stay, and you must survive, and you must convince them to grant you the Test!"
"And if I do?"
"Then you must pass the Test!"
"What happens if I fail?"
"Well, you will die, of course. Death is ever the penalty for failing the Test-either that, or ultimate, hopeless madness. But that's not the worst part."
"Really! Just what is the worst part?" The girl's face had grown quite pale, though her voice was remarkably steady.
"The worst part is that, if you die here, you will doom the future of magic on Krynn."
Chapter 15
A Subject
We should carve out her eyes-then make her be our maidservant! Imagine her, tottering around through the Tower, groping about in the kitchen, unable to see a thing! And every time she breaks a dish or spills a drink, we'll cut off a finger. Yes, that would be diverting, don't you agree?"
Kalrakin's eyes glowed as he made the suggestion, all but licking his lips. "It has been too long since we have had real flesh and blood for our pleasure!"
"Well, yes, I rather think that would amuse us momentarily," Luthar replied tentatively. "But perhaps there is a more suitable use we can put her to. She might know some secrets about this tower, after all. It is rather startling that she came here like this, is it not? Quite unanticipated!"
"Bah, look at her. It's an accident of fate. She's a callow youth! She can know nothing of wizardry!" The tall sorcerer's eyes narrowed as he glowered at his rotund companion. "Or do you have baser desires, my old friend? True, she is an attractive morsel, but I thought you had given up entanglements with female flesh? Was that not part of our mutual vow?"
"Oh, very much, my lord! No, I do not want to take her, not like that. But see how the old man is warming to her, welcoming her. He is treating her like a queen, as if he seems to think she might be important!"
"That old man talked to us, too. For a moment, in any event." Kalrakin's laugh was a harsh bark.
"Well, he would have talked longer if you hadn't, uh, dealt with him! I still don't know why you couldn't have been more patient."
The two sorcerers were in one of the high chambers of the Tower of High Sorcery. A rubble of broken glass, ash, and other debris covered the floor of the large room. The one thing left undamaged was a window, a pane of dark glass mounted on the stone wall. It was a window with no view, barely revealing the face of the wall-at least so it had appeared originally.
Luthar, however, had discovered its true nature, after some contemplation. He had stood boldly in front of the window, when Kalrakin, in his fury, would have shattered it, flinging its parts across the floor.
"Look!" the short sorcerer had all but shrieked, waving his hands, using his own body as a shield. "Don't you understand? It is a magical window-it allows you to see beyond this place! Observe, my lord!"
Kalrakin, his massive beard twitching with frustration, had paused long enough for his fellow to demonstrate.
"Show us the dining hall of the foretower!" Luthar had commanded, nervously glancing at his companion, ¦ his lord. In a flash, the image of that chamber had appeared. It first displayed the empty table where they had grown used to taking their meals, in the vast hall that had once held countless priceless artifacts, talismans of ancient magic, squirreled away in numerous alcoves. With a little further experimentation Luthar had revealed a magical portal that allowed them to view any place within the Tower of High Sorcery.
Kalrakin had immediately seized upon the magical window with delight, commanding that it reveal to them the Hall of Mages-the huge, cavernous chamber in the North Tower where the twenty-one empty seats formed a circle in the center of the room. These stood silent and empty, and the sorcerer had mocked the power of the mages who had once ruled from their vantage. He had peered into the armories, the apprentice cells, the luxurious apartments where, presumably, these once mighty wizards had dwelled.
He had quickly learned that there were limits to the scope of this magical window. There were three rooms in the Tower that remained obscure to him, despite all of his efforts. Maddeningly, the window refused to grant him even a glimpse into these sacred precincts. His impulse, naturally, had been to smash the window, but Luthar had begged him to stay his vengeful fist.