Morely's book! Mandel thought. Morely had said there was something missing. This must be it!
Mandel's heart soared, but suspicion slowed its ascent. He looked at the scroll, which was written in a language he couldn't understand.
"Why have you never mentioned this?" he demanded.
Sendark gazed deeply at the master thief.
"It is nothing to me. For all I know, it's just another legend."
"But the fountain's powers could be great. Doesn't that interest you?"
"A legend promises that," Sendark corrected, "not the fountain. Besides, I have other things to hold my interest."
The necromancer looked up and his attention went to Mandel's open portal.
"You have company," he said.
Mandel glanced over his shoulder. No one was there.
"Not here," Sendark said. "Back in your home." The demon waved his hand and the portal became visible to Mandel.
Gazing through, Mandel looked into his room, seeing his flesh and blood body still seated amid the burning powders. Commander Lenik stood behind him, calling out.
The commander wore a chainmail shirt and helm over leather pants and a brown woolen blouse. He was a lizardman with scarred green-brown scales and a narrow skull. Nearly half of his face was jaw and mouth. His prehensile tail curled restlessly behind him. He carried a cavalry sword in his fist and was covered with road grime as if he'd just stepped off a horse.
"Speak to him," Sendark said. "Call out...."
Mandel didn't want to speak to Lenik in front of Sendark, but he also knew better than to turn down the demon's hospitality. He spoke carefully, thinking the moaning wind might slur his words.
"I'm here, Lenik."
The master thief watched through the portal as his flesh and blood body opened its mouth and spoke, as he spoke.
Lenik glanced wildly around the room for a moment. "What are you doing?"
"I'm with Sendark on the Sea of Mist," Man-del answered, giving warning to his compatriot that they were not alone. "What are you doing back so soon?"
"I came to bring you news of the second fountain. We found it. It's hidden in a mountain on the Isle of the Dead."
Mandel looked at Sendark, who smiled knowingly.
"You're sure it's the second fountain?" Man-del asked.
"As sure as we can be, we didn't actually find the fountain, but we found markings near the cavern entrance that match those on the first fountain."
Mandel's eyes sparkled.
"I'm coming to join you," he said, looking at the necromancer. "Is there any further business we need to discuss?"
"No," Sendark replied. "I only wanted to let you know the time of our arrival."
"Of course."
Mandel offered his hand and Sendark took it in a bone-crushing grip. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you."
Sendark's eyes were playful and dangerous.
"Who knows?" he said, "Perhaps our business has just begun."
8
Praz opened the letter. Inside was a very detailed map, and several sheets of paper were included that showed waystops and the names of people who should be contacted during the journey. The letter was simple.
Praz-El—
Your time has come. If you wish to learn about your life, if you wish to learn what this has all been for, then come to Murlank. There is no need to respond to this letter. You will be met when you reach the city.
You will be known.
It was unsigned.
Praz read the short message over a dozen times, trying to glean more information from it. Unable to decipher anything, he folded it angrily.
"Do you know who this is from?" he asked.
"No," Bo said, "but... you don't have to go."
"Of course I do," Praz answered. "How can you even say that? I know almost nothing about my life—this could be the answer."
"There are other answers," Bo countered. "Ones with less risk and less facing the unknown."
Praz shook his head. "No."
He remembered how Mistress had told him that he couldn't escape his destiny And he'd never wanted to. "You and I both know I was never meant to be part of Soronne."
"Because somewhere, something greater and grander was waiting on you?"
Bo's voice sounded harsh.
"I don't fit here," Praz said softly "I've never fit anywhere. How do you think that makes me feel? Why do you think I fight so hard and train for so long? I don't know what else to do. And I know you feel the same way. You all do. That's why you voted against me with the Magistracy."
"Praz," Bo said, shaking his head, "there are things that you still don't understand. Things that can be very dangerous for you."
Praz looked up. "Like what?"
The wizened elf hesitated for a moment.
"All I ask is that you think about this letter before you make your decision about staying or going."
"How long?"
"A month."
Praz opened his eyes wide. "A month? In that time, the Magistracy will bar me from the Towers. What am I supposed to do then?"
"Think about your life," Bo said, "and what you want out of it."
"I don't want this place," Praz said, his voice rising. "This is your home. Not mine."
Bo felt stung.
"This is our home," he said.
"No." Praz said, desperately trying to put his thoughts into words without hurting Bo. "I've only shared yours. All my life, I've tried to find my path in the world. I never knew my parents or my real home." He tapped the letter. "This offers me all those things. How could you expect me to just forget about it?"
"I don't expect you to," Bo replied. "But I would feel better if you did."
Praz lowered his eyes and shook his head.
“I can’t.”
Watching him closely, Bo knew that he was already gone. Fatigue settled into the wizened elf in that moment. The commanding air of the Magistrate was lost, and his shoulders rounded.
"When will you leave?" he asked.
Praz swallowed hard, feeling trepidation mixed with excitement all at once.
"In the morning," he said.
Bo nodded.
"As you wish."
River stood in the wet shadows clinging to the side of the Sage's Rebuttal as rain fell all around her. From her vantage point, she had easily overheard the conversation between Praz and Magistrate Bo.
Praz is leaving in the morning.
The thought made her heart skip.
Ever since she'd left home months ago and journeyed to Soronne, the young ranger had pined for some kind of adventure. The exercises the instructors at Warder's Promise gave were little more than child's play after having been raised in the harsh forest along Goblin Marsh.
No one ever died in the Warder's Promise exercises, and there wasn't much risk in the first year of teaching anyhow. The only thing she'd really looked forward to of late was spending time with Praz.
But that had been an exceedingly hard thing to do.
For one, Praz and Telop always had something going on in the evenings even though she wasn't always sure what that was. And for another, Lissella was always around causing a commotion and gaining Praz's attention.
River's pride stung slightly as she recalled how Lissella had thrown her station into her face. But there was nothing in the world that River would rather do than be a ranger, and the Magistracy had nothing to teach her that she didn't already know.
Her thoughts turned again to Praz. If he left for Murlank—and the young ranger wasn't even sure exactly where that was—surely he wouldn't mind company After all, wherever he was heading, there was sure to be plenty of harsh land.
Even as skilled as he is, she told herself, Praz wouldn't mind having a ranger along to make sure he passes safely. It only makes sense. She was positive she could convince him of that. Plus, Lissella's comments notwithstanding, River was certain there were other comforts they could share as they traveled.
Two slept much more warmly in a sleeping bag than one. And once Praz was on the road out of Soronne, Lissella Morely wouldn't be able to sink her bright little bitch's claws into him.
River knew she'd have Praz all to herself, and the thought brought a prickly heat to her stomach.
When he opened his eyes, Fahd Mandel was once more in his body. He stood and glanced at the portal to where Demero had existed.
Nothing remained of the spell, but the scroll Sendark had given him remained in his pocket.
Mandel wondered if the connection was cut off at both ends, or if Sendark still watched somehow from his great ship of undead.
"What were you talking to Sendark about?" Lenik asked suspiciously.
"We discussed the fountains," Mandel replied, knowing the answer would cause concern for the lizardman. The pact they had between them was mutually beneficial at this point, but that could change at a moment's notice. At the present, there were no better bargains on the table.
Lenik was no stranger to treachery and, like Mandel, he had to set aside his suspicions to make the partnership work. So far it had. The commander's own ambitions had ultimately put him at odds with the current Magistrate of the Circle of Steel. The Magistrate had raised Lenik up through the ranks and supported him for the second-in-command position. Lenik had proven capable at the post, so capable in fact that he saw no reason why he wasn't Magistrate himself.
Once Mandel had learned that, it had been a relatively simple thing to talk Lenik into a partnership. Although the commander was less favorably disposed toward Sendark than Mandel, he nevertheless took advantage of the coming situation.
The fountains had made the bargain between them even more enticing. Mandel had the knowledge, while Lenik had the army of mercenaries and the strength to hold them in an iron hand.
Mandel crossed the room to a small freestanding pantry and took down a bottle of his best wine. Thinking about the wine he had in the cellars below the Magistracy made him despair. He'd spent a considerable amount of time, effort, and gold to acquire it.
After tonight, they would all be destroyed.
"Why would you tell Sendark about the fountains?" Lenik asked.
"He's raiding tonight and I needed more time. Besides, he knew about them. He gave me this scroll. He said it's the key to unlocking their secrets."
Lenik narrowed his eyes.
"I don't like it," he said. "Why would he want to help us?"
"We're in business together," Mandel said offhandedly. "It was a favor."
"A favor with no intention of recompense? That doesn't sound right. Sendark is a creature who always has an ulterior motive for doing something."
"Perhaps," Mandel said. "And perhaps the scroll he gave me is worthless and he believes it will be a token of faith on his part. Besides, he said he didn't even believe in the fountains."
"Then why," Lenik asked, "do we?"
"Because we know Devlin Morely," Mandel replied. "He's never wrong about things like this. Didn't he find the towers at Orak? Didn't he decipher the codes of the dead coven? Besides, he's practically obsessed with them."
Lenik shook his head.
"But we have no time now!" he barked.
Mandel smiled slowly. "Not on our own perhaps, but with a guide ..."
Lenik looked at him curiously.
"What do you mean?"
"It would take too much time for us to decipher these scrolls and unlock the mysteries of the fountains on our own, but we could do it if Morely were with us."
"You mean take him?" Lenik asked.
"You and I know about the secret passages that wind through the Towers. I say we find Morely and take him prisoner. This time of night it will be simple enough. The man is always in the midst of a book in the library. He understands a great deal about magic, and we have need of someone who does."
Lenik's eyes burned with interest. "So we force him to tell us what he knows about the fountains?"
"And to use his expertise to open their powers. Yes."
Lenik tapped his elongated jaw. "Morely may resist."
"Devlin Morely's days of courage and bravery are behind him," Mandel said. "And I'm not afraid of getting blood on my hands. A man can bleed painfully for a very long time before you have to worry about him dying during an interrogation."
Lenik grimaced thoughtfully. "He's a stubborn old man. He may refuse to talk and hold out till you do kill him."
"Not," Mandel promised, "if we took something he cared about as leverage, maybe something young and beautiful and ..."
Lenik's eyes widened in recognition.
"Lissella."
"It would speed up the process of gaining Morely's compliance," Mandel said, getting more excited by the moment. "Besides, Lissella is studying to be a mage in Eldrar's Tower. She's quite gifted, I hear. If we can't reason with the father, maybe we can reason with the daughter. Perhaps it would be a good idea to have her with us. There are too many uncertainties in what we're trying to accomplish here, Lenik. Let's even the balance. Besides, with Sendark's troops arriving soon, there will be confusion everywhere, so who will miss them?"
Lenik nodded, thinking the plan over.
"Keep your eye on the prize, Lenik, and remember," Mandel smiled, "we could be gods by morning."
9
Lissella Morely sat in the darkness of her bedroom in Eldrar's Tower, wearing a gossamer gown that barely disguised her nudity beneath. The three-room suite she had was modest, but it offered a great amount of privacy.
She stared at the seven unlit candles grouped on the floor in front of her. Lifting her left hand, she pointed at the candles. Immediately, seven pinpoints of light sprang from her fingertip and ignited them. A soft green glow filled the room.
Slowly, she began reciting a spell she knew by heart even though it had been years since she'd last used it.
Tentatively, so pale it was almost insubstantial in the candle smoke, a tall, thin figure took shape. The figure had horns that jutted from its forehead, a prehensile tail, and jaundiced yellow skin. Volcanic red eyes stared at Lissella hungrily
The hands possessed only two sausage-like fingers with an extra joint, and a thumb. The hairless head was egg-shaped and made him look even gaunter, like he was sickly and weak.
That image of weakness was false, though. Lissella knew the demon bound inside her circle of protection was incredibly strong. She had seen him lift attackers from their feet and snap their necks with one hand.
The demon walked toward the smoky edge of the circle. Tentatively, he pressed his hands against the candle smoke that remained trapped in the bubble-shape of her spell. Sparks flew as he tried to break through, and he pulled his hands back quickly.
Lissella's gaze dropped involuntarily to the narrow band of jeweled lizard skin that masked his sex from her view. There was so much she remembered about the demon.
He hissed angrily, but there was seduction in the sound. "Lissella, release me from this false prison."
"No, Xhristos."
Xhristos tilted his bald head.
"Give in to the hunger that I see in you," Xhristos urged. "Please."
"No," Lissella said, barely resisting the dark temptation that filled her at the demon's invitation. "Those days—and those nights—are long gone, Xhristos."
The demon leaned against the smoky barrier that kept him from stepping inside the room. He smiled and the effort made him look more handsome than ever. "But there is so much I can still teach you, Lissella."
Lissella's mind briefly betrayed her. When she'd started immersing herself in the powers offered by the Dark only a handful of years ago, Xhristos had been her guide and teacher. The demon had taken her to other worlds, let her take part in his conquests and ruthless butchery, and Lissella had reveled in it. He had also been her only lover to date, influencing and shaping her taste for eroticism.
She lifted her chin and made her gaze imperious. "I've already learned everything from you that I could."
Angrily, Xhristos slammed his palms against the circle of protection. Sparks flared inside the smoky bubble and pain wracked the demon's handsome features. "You still remain a foolish girl, Lissella. You've never truly given yourself over to Darkness, insisting on playing this waffling game because of your love for your father. If I've taught you anything, it's that love is an unwanted burden and vulnerability. I should have done you a favor when we first met and killed Devlin Morely "
Lifting her arm, Lissella closed her fist. In response, the circle of protection shrank within the boundaries of the candles. Xhristos tried to remain standing, but every time the protective circle touched him, sparks flared like burning embers from a fire pit. Pain wracked his features and made him quiver.
"Stop it, you foul bitch!" Xhristos yelled. "Never, never speak of hurting my father again. Do you hear me?"
The circle of protection kept collapsing, finally driving Xhristos to a frantic fetal position on the floor. He gazed at her with fearful, hating eyes. "Yes, yes!"
"You see," Lissella said, "I've learned a lot." She laughed in triumph. "But I'm no longer the innocent you corrupted so blithely those years ago."
Straining against the pain and the tight fit of the circle of protection, Xhristos glared at her.
"Sometimes I wonder which of us was truly corrupted by our relationship."
Lissella laughed again, wondering what Praz would think of her now. The young warrior had probably never seen a demon in his whole life. She sighed, releasing the confines of the circle.
The sparks stopped flaring within the magical barrier and, grudgingly, Xhristos stood, his arms and legs still weak and trembling from the attack.
"You've met someone else," the demon said.
For a moment, Lissella started to say that the matter was none of the demon's concern, but that wasn't true. She'd summoned Xhristos specifically to help her find out more about that very someone else.
"That is correct," she said. "His name is Praz-El."
"Ah." Xhristos' ruby-red eyes flared with renewed interest. "So you've found another demon. But of course you would."
He chuckled knowingly. His lean tail wound suggestively around his left leg.
Lissella raised her brow quizzically.
"He's not a demon."
"What do you mean he's not a demon?" Xhristos shook his horned head. "EZ is the demon mark of warning."
"He's a man," Lissella stated firmly, remembering the way Praz had spoken to her in the bar. "A very young, stubborn, and impudent man."
"Do you love him?"
Lissella smiled coldly.
"You were the one who taught me that softer emotions are only weakness. The only emotions that bring you strength are hate and lust."
"Then you lust after him," Xhristos probed further.
Lissella turned down her eyes and thought carefully.
"I don't know," she said, as lies would only complicate Xhristos' examination.
"In some ways, perhaps, but that isn't quite true. He's interested in me; maybe he even believes he loves me. At least, maybe he believes he loves me at the moment. But there is something else about him. I feel darkness in him. It calls to me."
Lissella opened the small pouch at her side and drew out the single golden hair she'd snatched from Praz's head.
"Let's find out why I'm so attracted to this man."
She held out the hair, letting it dangle from her fingers.
Xhristos nodded proudly.
"Very good, Lissella, hair is important. It is bound so tightly to a person's thoughts that it can tell a trained mage—or even a demon— many things." Xhristos stuck his hand out, nearly touching the circle of protection. "Give it to me."
Lissella smiled briefly. "Do you think to trick me so easily, Xhristos? If I break the boundary of the circle, it won't hold you any longer."
Xhristos grinned with guilty pleasure. "Would that be so bad?"
His forked tounge flicked out at her.
"I would kill you if you tried," Lissella promised. "My attraction to you ended the moment I knew you cared for me. You're beneath me, Xhristos."
"You betrayed me," Xhristos screamed.
"Power comes in many forms," Lissella replied. "You taught me that. And betrayal is the most powerful of all."
A bitter smile twisted the demon's lips.
"You don't know how many females I've killed because of you. Because they didn't measure up to what I had with you."
"Then I've become the teacher."
"And this young man?" Xhristos taunted. "Will you be his teacher as well?"
"I don't love him," Lissella said. "I never will. Nor will I ever trust him. I choose to explore my interest in him in case he becomes a threat to me."
"And if he becomes a threat?"
Lissella's eyes narrowed.
"I kill him."
Xhristos smiled and nodded.
"You'll be drawn to power, Lissella, always and forever now that you have known me. And you'll never be happy until you find someone that can hold your life in their hands and control your every move."
"Perhaps." Lissella smiled, "Now tell me if this is such a man."
She held her hand up and blew the hair from her palm. Praz's golden hair floated to the circle of protection.
Once the hair was inside the magical barrier, Xhristos plucked it from the air and ran his fingers over it. Sitting on crossed legs, he chanted slowly, his words coming faster and stronger as he continued.
Without warning, the hair ignited in a blinding flash of light. Lissella clapped her hands over her eyes and cried out in pain. Even when she could see again, tears blurred her vision. For a moment, fear touched her when she thought Xhristos might have been killed. Or, even worse, that he had escaped the circle of protection. She had no illusions about how he would treat her if he ever got free.
When she could see again, Xhristos was just getting to his feet. Lacerations covered his body, and smoldering burns showed on both his hands and forearms.
Lissella's eyes went wide. "What happened?" she asked.
"Set me free, Lissella," the demon cried in pain. "I'm burning."
He held up his smoldering hands. Live coals embedded in his flesh glowed soft orange.
"I need to heal myself. Let me out!"
Lissella stood, something she rarely did when using a circle of protection, as a single misstep could blur a line, or tip over a candle, and set a creature free. She paused at the edge of the smoky barrier.
"What happened? What went wrong?"
"Darkness," Xhristos gasped. "Darkness shaped this man. That's why the hair exploded the way it did. True Darkness shuns the Light. Any attempt made to decipher a thing of Darkness will cause that thing to strike back without hesitation. Without mercy." He groaned, his burns getting worse, "Lissella, let me out!"
Lissella ignored the demon's cries. She'd watched Xhristos torture others, and when her own sense of compassion had risen, Xhristos had only laughed and continued.