"Well said," Hawkril rumbled. "Raise your magic."
Embra nodded, laid a hand on his forehead, and carefully announced, "Lamarantha!"
Hawkril acquired a frown. "What're you doing, my lady? This feels… strange."
She stared into his eyes. "Did you hear the word I just spoke? Can you recall it? Don't say it aloud! You remember it?"
The mountainous armaragor nodded. "Aye."
"Can you hold it in your mind?"
He nodded again.
"Good. Say that word later, when I wave my hand at you thus, hey?"
"And doing so will-?"
"Unleash the spell I just stored in you. It's what you feel in your head right now."
" 'Tis moving… like a worm come up after rain, questing back and forth," the armaragor complained.
"Good. Mages know that feeling well."
"Hmmph. No wonder your tempers are often short."
Craer chuckled and shot a swift, warning look at Tshamarra. "Don't you be trying that on me, now!"
"No." The Lady Talasorn's smile was sweet. "We've something else in mind for you."
Craer took a swift, suspicious step back, away from them all. "And what would that be, precisely?"
Something curved and bright and familiar suddenly glowed in the air right in front of his nose-and then fell. Without thinking he caught it… and found himself staring down at the Dwaer, bright and slightly warm in his hands.
"Look into it, and feel its flows," Embra called from across the chamber.
The procurer gave her a wild look. "You tricked me!"
"And will again. Yet you'll wed yon Stone soon enough, and want to have it always in your hand; the hard task will be yielding it up to me again." The Lady of Jewels reached into her bodice and held up a small pendant. "See you this?"
Craer glanced and then grinned. "Closely seen already, Lady; 'tis a professional weakness we procurers have. A few tiny belzorels, the central stone some mountain rock or other, polished smooth-of no great worth, probably a family jewel."
"Indeed, and yet worn because it bears a minor enchantment against maggots and crawling worms and mites, to keep my hair free of such things-and to be drained in a moment for a spell, should I have need. Now look you into the Dwaer, and try to feel and see this pendant through it. Other magics here in this chamber will have their own glows, but try to find just this one."
Obediently, Craer stared into the Stone. Silence hung around him for some breaths ere he murmured, " Well, now. A procurer could get very used to having such as this. I see it."
"Good. I'm casting a spell that will make this pendant seem as a Dwaer to you, just for a moment. It won't be like a Dwaer, but 'twill have the right radiance to your scrutiny."
"Aha," Craer commented, a moment later. "Distinctive."
"Yes. Remember it; that's what you need to be seeking. Now I'll need to do something more to you. Sit on the floor, cradle the Stone in your lap with one hand, and sit on your other hand, fingers spread on the floor. Don't move it when you start to feel power flowing up into it."
"Magic?"
"Yes, from Flowfoam itself: my Living Castle enchantments."
"Impressive," Tshamarra remarked, as Craer setded himself. "And my part?"
"When I wave to Hawkril and he unleashes his spell, ensnare it with one of your own. Both magics will lose their original effects and become raw, entwined power. Will that force into me, and I'll feed it to Craer. He won't have long to seek, but will have quite an impressive thrust of magic behind him-which may cause him some discomfort. As long as he holds the link together, all should be well."
Embra gave Craer a wry smile, and added, "Until we find another Dwaer, that is. When that happens, try to picture-in your mind-your eyes flying to it, and then look down as you speed straight toward it; you'll see the countryside where you're headed. Don't try to see who's holding the Dwaer and what's right around them, for that will surely alert them. We'll need you to hold the link to that other Dwaer, unless you see more than one, or anyone strikes at you with their Dwaer. In both cases, turn away, and throw mists between you and them."
Craer raised skeptical eyebrows. " 'Throw mists'? I do that… how?"
Embra smiled. "Try 'flying' your eyes toward me now-and when you reach me, veer away and mentally throw up some mist, by plucking at the mists that will seem to be all around you. Try it."
After a moment, the procurer grinned. "Easily done. I've just smoothed the mists away again."
Embra nodded. "I felt you do so. We're ready. So here's my scheme: If we find one Stone, we jump to it and do battle. When we get there, Craer, I'll need you to get our Dwaer to where Tash or I can touch it as fast as you know how. If we see multiple Stones, we trace where they are and then stop to decide whither we go. In all cases, of course, ignore the Dwaer my father's holding."
She looked at Hawkril, who nodded, and glanced at Craer. The procurer also nodded, wiped sweat from his brow that hadn't been there a few breaths before, and turned his head to look at Tshamarra, mouthing some silent words that might have been "I love you." She gave him a fond smile, and then turned to Embra and inclined her head once.
Four overdukes drew in deep breaths together, and Embra closed her eyes and flung up her hand in a wave to Hawkril. He said his remembered word, Tshamarra hissed a swift incantation, Embra quivered-and the Stone in Craer's hands suddenly glowed like an evening star.
Craer found himself hanging in glowing mists, lit from behind him by a growing radiance that was cradled in Blackgult's reassuring presence. He turned his attention away from it, looking out into the endless mists elsewhere, and-therel Over there!
He could feel Hawkril's ragged wonder, Tshamarra's cool calm, and Embra's strength and slight pain at the power roiling through her. They were with him, were aware of what he'd found, were flying with him…
… to a cavern, in damp Aglirtan earth and stone nigh the Silverflow, where a Dwaer was awake and alive in the hands of someone unaware of them, someone whose attention was bent elsewhere, someone against a wall far from a glowing web of magic, a shielding around a lazily turning cage of force-lines…
Craer forced himself to stop looking at those fascinating flows of power!-Three Above, no wonder mages grew so hungry for power; 'twas the greatest ecstasy imaginable!-and back at the Dwaer. It was in the hands of an armored man, no mage… Phelinndar!
He was conscious of Embra taking power from him now, of the flow that had been racing up through the numbed hand he was sitting on now reversing to drain back the other way. Even as he wavered in confusion, not wanting to lose any of that thrilling force, he felt her mind-voice: Hold to him, Craer. Hold to him!
Determinedly he did so, clawing his attention away from the fascinating beginnings of Embra's weaving of a magic that would snatch them all from Flowfoam to the cavern he was seeing. He thrust his attention at the renegade baron, clinging to the edges of the awakened power of that other Dwaer. Something bright arose behind him as Embra did her work, caught him up as it surged forward in a mighty wave, and then threw them all through the mists, Darsar brightening and sharpening around them as they were suddenly-
– elsewhere, crashing into the midst of that glowing cage of magic, the shielding vanishing around them in a howl of flame. Embra had flung the Four together, breast to breast, and she slapped Craer's Stone and clawed at the humming cage of magic around them at the same time, shattering it in an instant.
Craer staggered in the thrall of magic clashing and roiling around him, pain and glory and savage fire all grappling in and through him, and cried with mocking enthusiasm: "For Aglirta! For glory! The Four are upon you! Obligingly surrender, or die!"
The snoring woman shot bolt upright with a shriek of surprise and dismay. The shielding that should have seared intruders to bones was gone, the Sword of Spells collapsed into whirling sparks around her, and!-a Dwaer glowed not a dozen paces away, in the hands of Embra Silvertreel