a surfeit of wizards 26

 

Chapter 26

 

Frigermar had been very happy to bring along volunteers to help dismember a dragon; a once in a lifetime experience, and working under the direction of a couple of dragon experts I had hired to show us what to do.

Harmana and Castovar were interested, even if Ascyla was less so. I told her, ‘No experience is ever wasted.’

It was sententious, and I knew it, as her expression told me.

I was paying the experts in a number of parts of the dragon, and told the students that they might each have a couple of scales, or a smaller tooth.

Harmana dragged one bigger boy to me; she had a black eye and a thick lip. He had a busted nose.

“He was being greedy,” said Harmana, and spilled out what the youth had helped himself to. As this included an eyeball, which was one of the most costly parts of any dragon, I was not best pleased, and I had to put it hastily under a new preservation spell, since he had not harvested it with the proper care.

I asked Frigermar to escort him back through the temporary gate to the school, without anything to show for his efforts save a discipline hanging over his head, and smelly hands.

“I suppose there’s always one,” sighed Frigermar.

“I was going to offer more to those who worked most diligently,” I said. “But greed must be nipped in the bud.”

I intended some of the wing leather to go to making a war tent for Beretrulle; it would be resistant to spellfire, and have some protection against missiles as well.  Not to mention carrying bragging rights with it. The wing bones would make strong, light poles for it. The rest would make my little family good boots and cloaks. I planned to hang on to that whilst their feet grew; they were all eleven years old, and growing like weeds. But I would use some small offcuts to make a tiny pair of boots for Elizelle, who was just starting to walk. And that would be a tiny, precious keepsake of when she was small.

What? I can be sentimental, at times.

I made my apprentices draw the internal organ layout as well; and the more sensible of the students from the academy copied this activity. They would be unlikely to have another opportunity of studying a dragon up close, dragons aren’t so common that you fall over them every day, even in the wilds.  The teachers of creature lore were keen to look it over as well, and that was fine by me. It was a minor school of magic, wrongly, in my estimation, but most wizardly interest in magical fauna lies in what you can use them for in potions and alchemy.  The wizards with a pure interest in creatures are few and far between, largely because they fall into three categories. Beast hunters; who tend to end up dead; those who try to communicate with magic beasts, who tend to end up dead, only quicker; and the purely academic, who tend only to have theoretical contact with any magical creature bigger than a blink-mouse.

 

It took us three days to get the dragon rendered into movable pieces. I cheated with the hide and used tanning spells. Yes, you can use spells with innately magical hide, you just have to be careful which ones you use. Which is to say, you can speed up the process and use transfigured alum – not conjured, that won’t work – and other salts, and spreading spells to distribute the brain matter across all the hide. Dragon brains, like deer brains are good for tanning their own hide. I found that in one of Florisin’s old treatises as well.

I had already sent a message to King Thorogar, requesting a sky ship to call at the Tower for a gift I wished to send, and we took all the meat through the temporary gate I had set up, in order to shift it. Once through, the dwarves cheerfully loaded it, using cranes and nets. I had a couple of parcels for Alvarek and for Thebroval; and another to go to the capital to Sigeralv, but the greater part I sent to the king to be eaten by him or to be in his gift, as he saw fit. I gave some to the crew as well, as thanks for coming to the tower; they left, squabbling over the best way to eat dragon meat. Slow cooked in one of a selection of spiced liquors seemed to be winning. Dwarves are gourmets; it’s just that their tastes are not necessarily the same as human tastes.

The quick side-trip to the capital left Sigeralv a very happy dwarf, and he was muttering about browned steaks with a mushroom and pepper sauce. I have mentioned, I believe, that some dwarven mushrooms do not fill me with joy, but it was Sigeralv’s meat to do with as he pleased.

I knew better than to send hide for armour to Alvarek; it would be an insult for him to wear the hide of a creature in which he had not taken part in the kill.

Gods! I hoped he would not invite me on a dragon hunt as a little light entertainment next time we were there!

I must avoid the Dwarven lands in early spring, which is dragon-hunting season, when they emerge from winter hibernation.  Yes, I’ve read dwarven tales of dragon hunts. There’s a humorous drinking song which doesn’t readily translate about a hapless drunken and short-sighted dwarf who accidentally kills a dragon by having walked off a mountain ledge onto the top of its head, and hung on to the horns, and finally maddened it enough with his antics that it flew head first into a cliff face. There are many tongue-twisting verses about what happened, which rarely survive unmangled after about five verses, as it is custom to drink a goblet of mead between each verse.

I might have one of the horns made into a set of goblets; sometimes the medium is the message.

Meanwhile, with everything preserved, I could take my time deciding whether to use or sell what I had. 

 

 

Next was the hoard. Chessina had already set up a gate to that to continue her sorting. I flew the royal assayer up on the rug, in the regular way, to work out how the division of spoils should be made.

He was an acidulated-looking little man, named Crodon, who was surprisingly garrulous.

“I haven’t seen an actual dragon hoard since I was a boy,” he said, rubbing his thin hands together.  “I was the junior assayer then, just learning the ropes, as you might say.  Now, as I understand it, there’s plenty of room for negotiation; the king’s coffers are interested in coin, and I have to trust you to put a fair value on anything magical in terms of comparative coin value as I assume you will be interested in that?”

“Yes,” I said. “Also, I am interested in the numismatologic value of old coins.”

“Oh, don’t let me interfere with you doing well out of that, it’s the weight I have to care about,” he said. “Personally, I’d be fascinated to see the old coins, but nobody in the Treasury or the Ducal Treasury will bother to sort them. A shame, but there you are. You’ll be using the coins as part of your history lessons to your apprentices, no doubt?”

“Yes, I thought it would make former kings live more for them, if they could see and handle coins with his visage,” I said. “Occasionally, quite old coins emerge in Fair Pastures, but usually no more than a couple of hundred years old.  When someone digs up a poke buried by an ancestor, usually. Harmon used to buy them from them, and I’ve followed his custom.”

 “An admirable idea,” said Crodon.  “I might be in the market for some of your sets when you have them sorted out.”

“I’ll bear you in mind,” I said.

“I might be able to find you some other buyers, too,” he said.

“Then, I shall make sure I give you a favourable price,” I said.

He beamed.

“I hoped you might,” he said.

I suspected I might be the only coin collector to have anything close to a complete collection of coin back to Adalgrim the first by the time we were done. And I planned to hold on to my own collection, and keep it complete. It did make history come alive, after all; the children had been fascinated that the silver moon was introduced in the reign of King Beregrim the third, to replace a golden coin called the dragon, which had also been worth five Pieces like the moon. The gold dragon had been minted smaller in the reign of Beregrim the second, because of a scarcity of gold, and the expense of the wars of Beregrim the first, who was expansionistic and an idiot. The moon had been unpopular at first, not being considered good coin, but it was eventually accepted. Copper coinage was introduced during the famine years under Abrasind the first and only; it was considered an unlucky name because of the paucity of grain during his reign, which wasn’t the poor fellow’s fault, but, according to the lore of the Tower, caused by the eruption of a couple of large volcanoes which led to some very poor harvests for a number of years. Because of the dust in the atmosphere, blocking out the sun, obviously. But the superstitious peasants saw it as the disfavour of the gods, and as such, Abrasind’s heir, who was named Abragrim, changed his name to Adalgrim, and reigned as Aldalgrim the fifth.

Surely you learned all this in your formal lessons? Unless they left out the bit about the volcanoes, which is important. Never underestimate the power of nature; even Silvana doesn’t interfere in things like that.

 

Crodon was delighted, when we alighted, and he saw my wife’s industry.

“Oh, this makes my life much easier,” he said. “I won’t quibble over exact coin weights, that looks as though you have sorted it well into even piles. What sort of magic do you have?”

“Mostly minor rings,” said Chessina. “A couple of amulets to resist fire, presumably worn in the vain hope of avoiding becoming crispy dragon fodder, half a dozen rings of such things as stealth, resistance to cold, rain shield projection, and so on; mostly second-year academy crafting level, I’d say. One sword of sharpness which I thought should go on Beretrulle’s share, some armour which is more fit for a museum than for wearing, and the enchantments have mostly worn off. As to items, I thought we might trade the magic for the candlesticks and gilded helmet.”

“That sounds….” He tailed off.

“Preposterous? Nauseatingly posturing?” suggested Chessina.

“Yes,” said Crodon.

“We met one of those, heading for the marches,” I said. “I suspect if the wilds don’t get him, he’ll find an arrow in his back from taking his men into undue danger.”

“Unfortunately, there are a few of that kind about,” said Crodon.  “Well, well! This all appears to be in order; let me sign this, and if you, and Lady Beretrulle and Lady Chessina all countersign it, I have stones to open gates to the requisite palaces, for guards to take… dear me, it will take quite a while to shift it all.”

It did.  He brought guards back to bag and box up the various piles, and the respective guards of the king’s treasury, and Ogier’s treasury, were tramping back and forth through the gates for a good three hours.

Chessina set a fire, and cooked for Beretrulle, Crodon, and ourselves. Crodon seemed to really appreciate the courtesy; and having a conjured sofa to sit on and eat.

Beretrulle would have her share taken to Ogier’s castle as well, as she was now his betrothed bride. It was quite a dowry.

I hoped they would like the dragonskin war tent as a wedding gift!

Then we must take our shares.

We cheated, and used invisible servants who could not lift much, but they could drag little conjured carts with the contents made featherlight. The gate negated the spell, and came out just down the hill so that heading up the hill cancelled out the momentum. Precise planning prevents poor performance, as Harmon was wont to say.

And Crodon was not interested at all in any traveller’s packs, unless they contained coin or valuables. So, we took those back to the Tower as well, to go through at our leisure, moving them into the library with its own preservation charms, so they would not crumble after the long preservation caused by the presence of the dragon.

I wanted to experiment, with that in mind, in making dragonskin-lined bags for carrying food in.

After all, we had four tons of dragonskin to play with.

And some of the bundles had held books….

We were very good, and sorted out putting the coins in a vault before going to look at books, scrolls, and so on.

I grimaced in disgust as I emptied one pack; the clothes were of the young scholar about town of some hundred years ago, and all his books and scrolls were on demonology. He’d nicked one from the library of one of the schools popular at the time, judging by the flyleaf.  Well, his career in demonology had, at least, been cut a little short.

We retrieved a spell book, several scrolls – three spells and a recipe for cooking dragon – and a treatise on dragons, mostly inaccurate. I noted this on the flyleaf and had the Tower file it in fiction. The pictures were quite entertaining.

I don’t suppose you are surprised to discover that one of the… volumes… we came upon was a rather dog-eared book of indifferent smutty pictures.

Chessina examined one of them.

“Is this physically possible without acrobats, a charm spell, and a lot of lubricant?” she asked.

“I’m not trying it to find out,” I said. “The children should not see this! Burn it!”

“Don’t be a prude, Castamir,” said Chessina. “The artist of these was quite famous… or perhaps, notorious would be a better word… and his works were publicly burned in the square in Adalsburg.  I can probably make a small fortune on these, and I need to consult an antiquarian book seller to see if it’s worth auctioning it as a whole book, or breaking up to sell the prints.” She whirled off with it, leaving me wondering what sort of antiquarian book seller she knew, and whether it was he who was antiquated, or just the books he sold.

 

I almost threw out the slightly wrinkled apple in the pack with clothing from some four hundred years ago; then I asked the Tower, ‘Tower, information on the Rosy West Apple.’ The Tower obliged, and I read what I thought I had recalled.

“The Rosy West Apple was a famed self-setting apple, delicious as a sweet dessert apple and retaining its delicate fragrant flavour when dried.  It was also prized as a cider apple, and was considered a profitable export both as an apple and as cider. Every tree known died in the long cold of the reign of Abrasind the Unlucky.”

The problem with apples is that the seeds rarely breed true. It was a self-setter, so we might be lucky; or we might not.

Chessina returned at that moment.

“I left it with him to ask around,” she said. “Yuk, an old bit of lunch… no?” as I snatched the apple back before she could throw it away. I showed her the passage in the book.

She frowned.

“We could breed scions back,” she said. “And I’ll ask Silavara if we can persuade the stalk to root and leaf and go from there. Leave it with me; if it’s possible, we’ll be growing Rosy Wests here in the north.”

“The soil will affect the flavour, too,” I said.

“I know that,” said Chessina. “I’ll get some dirt from the Marches to get them going, and we’ll see how it goes. This will be fun.”

And for her, it would, bless her.

I don’t have the patience for long-growing things.

But then, I haven’t been starved of green growing things by years in the abyss.

 

a surfeit of wizards 25

 

Chapter 25

 

“Thank goodness you have come, Towermaster!” cried Blaithamlwg. “Just in time to stop our queen from making a terrible mistake!”

I sighed. What now?

“Tell me about it,” I said.

He heaved a sigh of relief.

“I think it’s because of being with child; it affects women,” he said, and looked over his shoulder, cautiously. “You need not mention that to Tancryfwys.”

“No, of course not,” I said, blandly.

The royal palace had grown apace and was now a fine building with stone footings, and timber-framed upper floors. It was well embellished with carvings, and the timber framing curved from trees hewn and split to retain their natural shapes, rather than the straight beams with occasional ‘knee’ beams I was used to. It probably needed magic to make it stable, but it was uniquely elven without the need to torture trees.

Blaithamlwg went on.

“My Queen wants to introduce a marriage law, whereby all full elves are required to marry half-elves, if not already married.”

“Bloody hell, that would be disastrous,” I said. “The towering resentments on both sides would lead to civil war.”

“Exactly,” said Blaithamlwg.

He led me to the queen who was holding forth to her husband, who looked worried, and Tancyfrwys, who looked outraged.

I banged my staff on the ground and the crystal flared.

“NO!” I said. “Just no, no, and no. It’s a stupid idea. Do you want to lose the support of your closest friends and advisors, Blaithamlwg and Tancyfrwys by making them marry half elves not each other? How did you like being wrest from Cyfaill? Don’t you think your subjects will resent such a law as much as you resented being kept from your love?  And what of the idea that an elf might essentially enslave a half-elf as close to his or her choice as possible with the half-elf having no say in it?  Have you been at whatever addled your father’s brain, you silly little girl?”

She looked very mutinous at being called a silly little girl.

“I did not mean where people had already formed attachments,” she said.

“And do you think some of the arrogant louts in your city will take any notice of whether a half elf of their choice has attachments? Not to mention the resentment at the perceived superiority being diluted. We know it isn’t, but it’s how it will be seen, and the half-elven half will be exploited.”

“Oh! I wanted to put right the concept that we were breeding ourselves to death!”she wailed. “Tell me what to do, Castamir!”

I sighed.

“You are long lived people. You have time to be subtle,” I said, soothingly. “You need to bring some willing half-elven girls to court as your ladies, and lads as gentleman attendants to Cyfaill, and show them favour. By the nature of politics, there will be those who wish to know those who are the ‘in’ crowd, and in doing so, there will be affections which form quite naturally. You could also ennoble half-elven merchants who do well, and promote elven welfare by good and prosperous trading.  Poor nobles will always choose to marry rich merchants, so long as there is no social stigma. And if more half-elves are seen at court, it will become quite natural.”

Chessina was smiling smugly that she was educating me well; and Queen Ariannaith hugged me.

Tancyfrwys flew to Blaithamlwg’s arms in relief.

Crisis averted.

 

 

We made a visit to the half-elven enclave, and ran into a half-elf I knew. It was the young man, Iespr, who had been used by Sekhemef to go and get his belongings.

He stared, and bowed.

“Towermaster! Oh, this is embarrassing, you saw me in the throes of being ensorcelled by that awful fellow! And you were so kind to me, too. The royal wizard was kind, too.”

“Don’t worry about it, my dear chap,” I said, kindly. “He fooled many people and he was very good at charming people. The important thing is that you were moved out of the Royal Tree before it burned, and that you are over all his spells.”

“Totally! Why, I had always despised him before, and I still do.”

I turned to Cyfaill.

“Iespr here performed a signal service, albeit involuntarily, in opening Sekhemef’s cabinet, why not pick him as one of your gentleman attendants? He’s a most amiable young man.”

Cyfaill raised an eyebrow, and I could almost hear the thought that perhaps Iespr might not add much in the way of intellect to the breeding pool, but considering that the High Fae had imparted to their elven descendants a twisted cruelty which also marked their kinship to the demonic, amiable might be of more use than clever.

I was thinking of other ways to mix the two communities.  Perhaps a lottery for the half-elves to bring the luckiest to court for a year, their expenses picked up by the court, so there was a rotating population there, three male, three female, perhaps. I discussed it with Tancyfrwys.

“Are you breeding us for luck, then?” she asked, waspishly.

“There are worse things,”, I said, mildly. “How else might you choose? Beauty contests, and breed for look not substance? Public examination to breed for scholars? Games to pick the fittest? Maybe all of them, for a rounded selection?”

“Maybe competition featuring a number of skills for permanent placement as nobility, open to lower-class elves, too,” said Tancyfrwys. “That way, it can be demonstrated that being a pure bred elf is not automatically superior, and half-elves who succeed that way would be acceptable as being plainly superior in many ways, and worthy of consideration as elves.”

It would be a long, long while before the prejudices were eroded;

 

We stayed a few days, and attended court, just to make sure the fluttering fools were used to the occasional visits of the Towermaster and friends; and Tancyfrwys asked to speak to me.

“Castamir… you know I told you that my master warned me of the Towermaster? He was old, the oldest elf I have ever seen, hairless when he died, and with skin like parchment. He… he was of the late king’s family, and they renewed ties with the High Fae. But I found some of his old writings. He… He had been apprentice to the then Royal Wizard at the time of the second favour… and he had been bought as eyes at court by Sekhemef, to help him with his ensorcellment of the king of the time.  I… I knew he was ancient, but he lived an unnaturally long time, owing to an artifact, which was interred with him… and I went there, and saw horrible, unnatural creatures! But I did not know how to tell you, and you have come because of Ariannaith’s foolish ideas…”

“Take me to it,” I said.

Silavara shuddered when we had walked to the grave of the former royal wizard, for the forest in a hundred yard radius felt most unpleasant.

I used spells to dig where Tancyfrwys said he was buried.  As his apprentice, she had seen to the obsequies, and had grown a carving of his face into the bark of the nearest tree as a memorial. Silavara plainly disapproved, but as far as I could see, this was no more than a small cosmetic change. Mind you, I should not like to have a tattoo placed on my skin involuntarily as a memorial to any parasite on my body I had killed, so perhaps her disapproval was fair. I did not mention my parallel of parasites and elves to Tancyfrwys, who was truly upset.

You can imagine my shock was the earth shook under the digging spell, and a horrible, dessicated, spidery body burst out of the soil, and attacked me.

Demonslicer was in my hand at a thought, and slashed through it; I severed its backbone, but the upper half was still clawing at me. Leaving Chessina to cast a globe of protection on me, I smashed Demonslicer down on its head, and then, finally, it collapsed.

There was an amulet about its neck with a familiar blue crystal embedded in it; but this artefact was definitely abyssal in design. I used gloves to pick it up by the chain, and turned a random rock into a box for it.

“Destroy it,” said Silavara.

“I was hoping to find out more…” I began.

“Destroy it,” said Silavara.

I don’t disobey that tone of voice from one of my family, and I laid the thing down. I saw visions of greatness, living forever, being the greatest wizard in the land, power unprecedented!

“Shut up, you lying piece of rock,” I said. “I have all I could ever want or need already.” Then I cut it in half with Demonslicer.

The air of oppression and evil dissipated.

Tancyfrwys fainted. Silavara went to her.

“That thing has been causing some effect to her, too,” said Silavara. “You’re a good boy, Castamir.”

“Why was the elf even alive?” I asked.

“He managed what Pondichook didn’t,” said Chessina. “He was a lich – I think. He must have been short some power and sank into a deep coma which Tancyfrwys believed was death, as he hadn’t been breathing for a very long time. It’s not dissimilar to the phylactery Pondichook drew in his journals, that Florisin found for us, but powered with the elven moon crystal, to allow him to maintain a semblance of life by draining others. Because he never tried to split the parts of his soul as Pondichook did, he hung on to the lot in a dead body, and the back of that thing has a mirrored surface. You recall how Djehuti found his father’s soul trapped in the mirror and transferred it to the corpse to allow it to speak? Well, this is a development of it, the runes in abyssal are much the same as the runes in ancient Agarakian. Sekhemef secretly made the royal apprentice  his own disciple, trapped his soul, and then bound it back into his own body with the addition of the power-draining in the crystal.  The alignment of the crystal is like that in the chest, two stones set crosswise.”

“Father and son have been tinkering with soul magic for a long time,” I said, grimly.

Tancyfrwys came to.

“By all the gods! What happened?” she asked.

“I have to tell you, dear friend, that your former master was a lich; an undead,” I told her. “And it is a tribute to your strength of mind and innate purity of spirit, goodness, if you will, that you were not more greatly affected. I now know that all the actions towards the child Castamir were not entirely yours – and that your shame over such is your natural feelings, which had been far enough from the artefact, the phylactery, to get over any influence. When you buried him, he had gone into a period of hibernation – perhaps he had done magic which overtaxed his unnatural power. He has been feeding on the creatures of the forest, which enabled him to attack. He is gone for good, now. And may his soul meet with its just deserts. He had been worshipping Sekhemef for a long time, and had been undead almost from as soon as he agreed to be his agent.”

“Oh! Will we never be free of this blight?” sobbed Tancyfrwys.

“I believe that finally, you are free of it,”I told her. We took her back to the loving arms of Blaethamlwg, and left them to comfort each other as we took our leave.

 

“He had access to the crystal very early, then,” said Chessina.

“And I can’t help wondering whether Sekhemef found a way to visit the Crystal Moon as a supplicant to gain knowledge,” I added.

“He whom they call ‘Trickster’ might find it amusing to be aiding demons with a mutually beneficial outcome,” said Silavara.

It was a grave thing to contemplate, and once again the two tasks laid upon us by the gods seemed to be tied irrevocably together, however different they might seem.

The problem lay in how to deal with the false gods of the elves.

“I can see only three ways of fulfilling the prophecy,” I said. “Firstly, to somehow trick the Fae into leaving their moon to defeat here.”

“They wouldn’t come unprepared,” said Silavara. “And they are each powerful enough to be taken by the elves as gods. I’m not sure how many there are…”

“Eight, plus their attendants,” I said. “Well, that’s the tradition. I tell you what, we need to get that book of tales King Thorogar has to Frigermar to work his preservative magic on it.”

“Ask him after sending the dragon meat,” said Chessina. “Two other ways?”

“Go there, somehow, which has the same problems as bringing them to us, plus finding a way to escape,” I said. “I fancy it’s one of those one-way missions, and I don’t think that was what the gods had in mind for us.”

“And the third way?”

“The nature of the crystal is such that it drains magic or amplifies it according to the alignment of the crystal structure,” I said. “If we could find a way to cut them off from their draining, we could, essentially, starve them to death.”

We were silent.

Nothing sounded very hopeful.

“All I know is that Silvana finds the second moon to be unnatural,” said Silavara. “And it is always in the same place, just above the horizon, in line with the elven city.”

“It’s the right height above the world to go round it in exactly the same time as it takes to rotate – a day, in other words – and so it stays always in the same place,” I said. “I presume they were attracted to the joint power sources of the forest and the combination of the Stone Circle and the Tower.”

“Silvana has told me that the compact with the Towermaster and with her Circlemistress of the time was that the race of elves would be made and the Fae might feed on them, but not on the creatures of the forest,” said Silavara. “I sense that the need for their destruction is within a few years, not months, so we have time to work on this.”

“And resources with which to do it, with a dragon and its hoard,” said Chessina. “And the material from the false moon to investigate.”

I hadn’t forgotten.

Well, we might take the children to dismember the dragon; they wouldn’t learn any younger.