His visitor smiled. "Indeed, and rightly so." Ambelter waved his visible-and empty-hand at the splendors around him. "Your wards are among the finest I've seen, and yet…" He smiled again, and let silence fall between them.
Multhas let his scrying-spheres fade to dark quiescence, not hurrying to say anything that would further reveal his fears. With a thought he activated wands hidden here and there in carvings around the room. If it came to battle between them…
"Evidently not fine enough," he replied in dry tones, assuming a relaxed pose that just happened to cover the ring on his left hand with the fingers of his right, so the faint glow of its awakening to hurl fires was concealed. "You mentioned an offer…?"
"I propose alliance toward a specific end. This must needs involve some measure of trust between us. Hence this meeting, eyes to eyes, for both of us to see if trust is possible… or not."
Multhas Bowdragon regarded his visitor expressionlessly. "Unfold your offer."
"For years Aglirta has been where barons brawl, each kinging it over his few farms and forests and cow pastures. The Vale feeds great Sirlptar, but is in truth no kingdom at all-a place of battle madness rightly called the King-less Land. Yet the true rulers of Aglirta have always been wizards. Wizards who warred with each other, using barons as willfully as barons use their lowliest cortahars. I was Spellmaster of Silvertree, and even that greatest baron of all bowed to my will-and never knew he was doing so."
"And so?"
"And so I know the true measure of Aglirta's might. If ever it stood united under a strong king, a real king, Arlund would not be safe, nor Sirlptar, nor any proud land of Asmarand; Aglirta could conquer all. Those who squabble in the Vale could come for you and all Bowdragons on the morrow, if someone did but unite and lead them."
"The worlds of 'if' are countless, but even our most daring sea captains rarely reach them," Multhas responded. "I'm not afraid of cortahars, or full-mantled armaragors, or even howling hosts of hireswords. A few spells, and-" He made a dismissive gesture.
Ingryl Ambelter smiled. "Indeed. However, there's far more to Aglirta than swords-there's magic. The ruins of a dozen cities of sorcery lie beneath the green fields and wildwood tree roots of Silverflow Vale, and in family crypts, roadside hedges, and many abandoned palaces and high houses. Much magic has been carried off down the years, of course, but far more lies forgotten. Magic enough to make those who wield it archwizards greater than any Darsar has yet known. Fool-headed farmers turn over spellswords when they plow, and barons toss aside everything not encrusted with jewels."
Multhas Bowdragon swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "And having stepped through my wards as if they were less than window curtains, you need my aid in this matter… how?"
Ambelter took a step forward-moving in utter silence, Bowdragon noted-and said eagerly, "That's just it, Multhas! Alone, I can make myself the tyrant king Sirl folk would have to fear-and the rest of Asmarand would come to fear, once Sirlptar fell. This I can do already, without you or anyone. Yet I want more. Much more."
He took another step forward, and Multhas Bowdragon called up the powers of his fire-ring. This could all be but a ruse, for Ambelter to get close…
The Spellmaster smiled. "Calm yourself, Bowdragon, and quell what you're planning to hurl at me. Believe me, I have means to prevent it." He waved his empty hand as if delivering a speech to an assembly, and urged, "Hear me! I want allies, and I need friends. Friends to join me in founding a new Aglirta: a kingdom of wizards!"
The master of Bowdragon Towers knew his eyes were narrowing, even as his heart started to pound with excitement. "You want me to be one of your loyal subjects?"
"No! I see a council of mages, a high table of equals, with apprentices serving beneath us and commoners under all. A land as strong and clean and peaceful as we can make it, so Aglirtans are happy and wealthy, earning us coins enough to live like kings and pursue ever stronger magics, making new books of sorcery to enrich all. What say you, Bowdragon?"
"A compelling vision," Multhas admitted, nodding. "Yet I still don't see why you need me-or how I can be sure you aren't just seeking my death, and my paltry magics to add to your own."
Ambelter smiled again. "I've never yet thought that any mage can be talked to death. If I wanted you dead, a spell to smash Bowdragon Towers would have come without warning, and you'd never even have known who sent it. Much magic binds together walls and furniture around you, Multhas-and such magic can be twisted or shattered at will, by those few who know how. But I don't need your death. I need you alive, as a colleague I can respect and talk to, and work with. As a friend."
He held out his empty hand in the soothing gesture many women make when they dare not touch the one they want to comfort. "I know this is both sudden and unsettling. You'll want time to think, to consider all sides. I won't press you for any pledge or agreement this day… But I do believe that once you consider all the implications of this dream of mine, you'll very much want to be a part of it. Just think: to be free of swaggering sword-swingers and owing your backside to sly-tongued merchants at last!"
"I already enjoy complete freedom in such matters, thank you," Multhas Bowdragon answered rather stiffly.
The Spellmaster shook his head. "Only through the work of your brother Dolmur, whom you thus feel the same indebtedness to-and who can compel you as surely as could a tyrant king on your doorstep, or a merchant you owed every stone of Bowdragon Towers to!"
"I believe," Multhas Bowdragon snarled, "that this interview is at an end."
The Spellmaster held up a hand. "Please, Multhas, take no hasty offense. I meant not to anger you, but merely to honestly refute-and how often do you hear another mage speak such plain truth to you, hmm? Is that alone not a rarity worth having more of?"
The master of Bowdragon Towers glowered, then nodded reluctandy. "You speak rightly there. Yet I still know not what you desire of me. Has Aglirta not taken leave of its senses enough to enthrone a boy as King? Use your spells to rule him, and you have your kingdom with no help from me!"
His visitor nodded. "I could-but would then be plunged into a struggle that would lay waste to Aglirta even as I won it. Have you not wondered how this unknown lad came to be King? He's backed by the senior barons, Blackgult and Silvertree, and the rest of the self-styled overdukes… and they're in league with the most powerful wizards left in Aglirta."
Multhas waved at his crystals. "Oh? I've spent some time scrying the Vale from afar, and have failed to notice any mages of note left there. In Sirlptar, yes, but Aglirta?"
Ambelter smiled again. "I trust you've heard of the Master of Bats?"
"Yes, but he's not Aglirtan, nor even in the Vale."
"Oh? Have you farscryed him lately?"
The Blackheart glared at his visitor, and then snapped, "So perhaps he's in league with this cabal of Flowfoam nobles-what then? Surely you can smite down one wizard, however notorious!"
"Ah, but there are many more. I can defeat them, yes, but once I work openly, they'll be at me like a pack of hungry wolves, watching day and night, and the long struggle will begin. The shrewdest attacks come from a surprise source-such as yourself. Ton could smite down my foes, seize their magics for yourself, and be gone again before the rest even knew a death had taken place, let alone who did the deed."
"So who are these 'many more'? Are they all skilled enough to hide themselves from me, all these months?" Multhas waved at the scrying-spheres, letting the ready fire of his ring show.
Ingryl Ambelter smirked at it, then let his face grow very serious as he met the angry gaze of his unwilling host. "Not all Lords of the Serpent perished when the Great Serpent fell. Surely a mage of accomplishment like yourself is aware that the Serpent is no god like the Three, but an archwiz-ard commanding a great web of spells. His priests are mages-some like you and me, but most little better than the hedge-wizards of yore, who can be found in a threadbare and useless carpet over most of Asmarand, muttering mysteries from every back lane. That web of magic, however, welds them