Tshamarra opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again and waved at Embra.
The Lady Silvertree raised her brows and turned to the chained man on the wall, lifting her hand in a "will you?" gesture.
Huldaerus smiled crookedly. "The Arrada's the underlying magic of Darsar. Magic is no god-gift, despite what priests say, but the natural forces of all living things in Asmarand-whereas sorcery is ways we've learned to harness and control these powers."
He fell silent, but both Embra and her father waved at him to continue. Arkle Huldaerus grew a real smile, just for a moment, and continued, "These forces swirl and contend constantly, but also rise and fall in cycles, battling each other chiefly in two contending musterings: one of dark savagery-the Serpent-and one of bright cleansing-the Dragon. Sometimes one is victorious and sometimes the other."
The procurer and the armaragor were listening intently. The chained wizard looked from one of them to the other, and added, "All thinking beings-beasts and swordswingers and cobblers, not just wizards and priests-can work to sway these musterings, strengthening one side or the other. Neither side is necessarily 'good' or 'bad,' mind, but to most folk the Dragon appeals more. We all prefer places and things dear to us to be just as we want them, and things we hold precious to be clean, and unwithered, and at orderly peace."
"Oh?" Craer asked skeptically. "And how do I manage this swaying of the battle, against no foe I can see to put a dagger into?"
The Master of Bats grinned. "That's a deriding I've heard many times before-a dismissal I'm sure Maumanthar heard often enough to grow right tired of. We do this by praying to the Three, and to lesser gods, the spirits that dwell in certain dells and pools and caverns. Of the Three, the Dark One is allied to the Serpent, the Lady to the Dragon, and Forefather Oak to the overall Arrada, the great balance or All."
"So," Hawkril rumbled, " 'tis inevitable: There'll be a new Serpent."
"I believe there's one already," the imprisoned wizard murmured.
"Who?" Blackgult asked sharply, but Arkle Huldaerus just shrugged in his chains.
The Golden Griffon's eyes narrowed, and he took a threatening stride forward, but the Master of Bats smiled and shook his head. "Truly, I know not. My bats see things only where I dare to send them."
It was the turn of Embra to narrow and sharpen her gaze. "Will there also be a new Dragon?"
The chained mage shrugged. "Of course. A useful ally- if you can find whoever it is, and meet their price or treat them properly."
"Life is just full of ifs, isn't it?" Tshamarra asked softly.
Chains rattled as the manacled man shrugged again. "If you freed me," he said slowly, "I could perhaps help."
"Or not," the Talasorn sorceress said sharply.
The Master of Bats grinned rather unpleasantly. "Or not," he agreed. "Reap as you've sown, Overdukes."
Even as the words left his lips, a din arose outside the cell. Echoes, as always down in the Flowfoam cellars: the much-grown sounds of stumbling, frantically running feet, fast approaching through the dark passages.
The overdukes whirled around, lifting weapons, as the chained wizard watched with interest.
They were in time to see a crownless, ragged-cloaked Raulin Castlecloaks sprint past the open doorway, lit by bobbing torches clutched by two hard-eyed warriors who pursued him, swords drawn. At their heels ran another man, who sported no human face at all, but rather the emerald-green, shiny-scaled head of a serpent!
"Claws of the Lady!" Craer snapped, hurling himself through the door with the rest of the overdukes in frantic, shoulder-bruising pursuit. A bat swooped past their heads, but none of them bothered to strike at it as they pelted down the passage after the flickering, dwindling torchlight.
"Tash!" Craer gasped back over his shoulder, at the lithe woman running along not far behind. "Can't you… fly?"
His lady shook her head, and panted, "Takes too long… to cast… without Dwaer… become hurled arrow… No way to fight or parry when reach…"
"So what by all the Three-engloried splendor is magic good for?" the procurer snapped.
"Oh," Blackgult called, "saving kingdoms, felling the Great Serpent-little things like that."
The sounds of their voices made the snake-headed priest glance back, a forked tongue darting from between his lips as he hissed in anger and surprise. He slowed, and threw up his hands to cast a spell-and Embra stopped, pointed the Dwaer at him as if it was a sword, and let fly with a bright needle of force that lit up the passage blindingly bright for a moment.
The other overdukes cried out, but kept running-and by the time Craer could see again, he was stumbling over the thrashing, headless corpse of what had recently been a Serpent-priest.
"Graul and bebolt!" he snarled, veering to find a wall and claw himself to a halt until his gaze cleared. "Why can't you blast down those two warriors, Em? Hey?"
"They're safely around a corner," the Lady Silvertree replied, as she joined him, guiding her fellow overdukes together. "Or I'd not even have dared cook this snake. Such bolts don't bow to royalty." The Dwaer had protected her against the flash of its own strike, and Blackgult had anticipated her deed and clapped a hand over his eyes, but the others were still blinking blearily at the near darkness around them.
Embra sighed, made the Dwaer glow gently, and ignored the bats-a trio now, at least-flapping around her. "Come on," she said. "Run, and I'll try to touch and heal as we go. We've got to catch them before they get to a-"
Even as she spoke, she saw that there was a well room ahead, with six passages leading out of it. When she let her Dwaer go out and brought blinding darkness down on them all, she could see no torch-glow ahead, anywhere.
The Lady of jewels cursed as coarsely as any warrior, and then reached out with her Dwaer and started banishing the hurt she'd done to the overdukes stumbling blindly around her.
Then, shaking her head, she led them on, the Dwaer leaping again to golden life. Craer bounded into the lead, Hawkril running to join him, and Blackgult fell back behind the two sorceresses.
When they reached the well-Craer glancing down into its dank darkness, just to make sure-Embra doused her magical radiance once more. Nothing; the darkness was utter, unbroken.
"Claws of the bloody, blood-spitting Dark One," she began softly. "To lose them now, when-"
"Em!" the procurer snapped, hearing a tiny shriek close by his ear. "Give us light!"
With a sigh, the sorceress did so-and found five bats circling her head. As soon as she stared at them, they flew away across the chamber, and through a certain archway. Without hesitation she ran after them, murmuring, "My thanks, wizard. Remind me to free you much sooner than I was intending to. Perhaps even before we've both died of old age."
A bat screamed in her ear, then whirled away to join its fellows. Embra Silvertree gave it a savage grin as she hurled herself around a corner, down a few broad, unexpected steps, and on along the unfamiliar, winding passage.
It ran for a long way without doors or side chambers, during which time a determinedly sprinting Craer caught up to Embra, gave her a reproachful look, and took up his former station ahead of her, with Hawkril moving to join him… all at a dead run.
They'd just started to really gasp for breath, and slow with weariness, when the passage suddenly descended sharply, hooked to the right, and opened into-a large cavern that shouldn't exist.
Embra stared, slowing in bewilderment now as much as exhaustion. She'd been bound to all of Flowfoam by the Living Castle enchantments of the Dark Three, unfinished as they were, and… and this place was not part of them. It should not be here, it-