Mhoried was the nearest of these to his reach.
In a rumbling voice, the Gorgon asked, “Well? Have you anything to say for yourself?”
Bannier licked his lips. “My lord, while it is true that I failed to bring you the Mhoried bloodline, I aided Tuorel of Ghoere in defeating the Mhor Daeric and driving Gaelin’s forces to the remotest reaches of the kingdom. Even as I left to defend Caer Duirga, Tuorel’s army was finishing the Mhorien resistance.”
“The siege pro g resses well, as you say. But due to your incompetence, I am now forced to take matters into my own hands. This makes me wonder what I have received in exchange for the formidable powers I placed at your command.”
With an iron effort, Bannier met Raesene’s eyes. The Gorgon respected strength and courage. No matter what, the wizard must give him the impression he possessed both qualities.
“Allow me to return to Mhoried, my lord. I am certain I can bring down Gaelin, given another chance.”
Raesene stepped forward and laid his hand on Bannier’s shoulder, a familiar and patronizing gesture. The weight of his touch was more than Bannier could bear; the wizard was acutely conscious that with the merest act of will, the Gorgon could snuff out his life. “I knew you would say that,” the creature said. “Therefore, I have taken the liberty of making some arrangements for you. We will have this Mhorien situation resolved in our favor. Now, come with me.”
Trailing a step behind Raesene, Bannier followed obediently.
He allowed the barest degree of optimism to creep into his thoughts.
The Gorgon led him through the black halls of the Battlewaite, moving with relentless purpose, never speaking a word.
For his own part, Bannier dared not open his mouth. Eventually they came to a wide battlement, a terrace in the side of the tower that overlooked the fortress-city of Kal-Saitharak. Here the Gorgon stopped, dismissing a pair of trollish guards fro m the chamber. He gazed out over the towers and ramparts, the smoking forges and warrens of the city. “Bannier, do you wonder why I wish to see Mhoried destroyed? ”
“I only presumed it pleased you, my lord.”
The Gorgon smiled, a fierce expression. “Do not let my aspect deceive you, Bannier. I do very few things only because they gratify me. I bear Mhoried no particular malice, at least no more than any other Anuirean state. Mhoried is to be destroyed because it is one of a handful of linchpins, critical powers that hold Anuire together. And even more importantly than that, Mhoried is to be destroyed because it is necessary for Ghoere’s elevation.”
“All of this is for Tuorel’s gain? I did not realize that he was in your favor, Prince Raesene.”
“On the contrary, Bannier, I elevate Ghoere not for Tuorel’s sake, but for my own. I will build him into a great power, a warlord so strong he will dare to claim the Iron Throne. This will lead to an inevitable conflict between Ghoere and his supporters on the one hand, and those who can resist him on the other. In a year or two, all of Anuire will be immersed in the greatest war since Michael set out to claim his throne. This will be to my advantage.”
Bannier cleared his throat. “Why tell me this, my lord?”
The Gorgon turned his attention to the human sorc e rer beside him. “Because the necessary first step of this plan, a step I relied on you to complete, remains to be taken. Tuorel has not yet finished his conquest of Mhoried. Had you pursued your duties with more diligence, this affair would be concluded, and I would be free to turn my attentions elsewhere. Now a Dieman host marches to Mhoried’s relief, and Tuorel is about to be caught between Gaelin’s rebels and Vandiel’s soldiers.”
“Diemed joins the war?”
“ F rom what I understand, your treatment of Princess Seriene had something to do with it,” the Gorgon said wryly. “When you struck at her and Gaelin in the form of his Vos friend, she decided you had to be stopped. Now I find I must commit Kraith of Markazor to Mhoried again to reinforce Tuorel.”
“I am sorry, my lord. I did not mean to involve Diemed through my attempts to capture Gaelin for you.” Bannier could not restrain a shudder of fear – the Gorgon accepted few apologies.
The Gorgon’s smile chilled Bannier. “Fortunately, Kraith is available to counter the Dieman army. It is not a fatal mistake, Bannier. Now, you must be wondering what role you have left to play. You will become my envoy in Tuorel’s court. It is my desire that Tuorel and Kraith combine their forces in order to crush the remaining Mhoriens and Vandiel Diem’s host.
Kraith marches even as we speak, but Tuorel must be persuaded to accept the goblin’s aid.”
“Tuorel will be suspicious of me,” Bannier said.
“Then you will have to employ a ruse of some kind.” Raesene let his baleful gaze rest on Bannier for a long moment, until the wizard quailed and looked down. “You are also to see to it that Tuorel has the chance to meet Gaelin Mhoried face to face, on the field of battle. Allow the Wolf of Ghoere to slay the young Mhor and claim his bloodline and kingdom.
In a year or two, when the time is right, I shall call upon Tuorel and absorb both the Mhoried and Tuorel bloodlines.
Do you understand?”
“I do, my lord.”
“Then you may go.”
Bannier bowed again and set off at once. He’d visited the Battlewaite on several occasions; he’d find his own way out.
He had reached the doorway leading from the battlements when he heard Raesene’s hooves scrape heavily on the stone behind him. “One more thing, Bannier. I expended a great amount of energy and effort to rescue you from the mistakes you made at Caer Duirga. I shall not do so again.”
“I understand, my lord,” Bannier replied. Backing away, he disappeared into the darkness of the Gorgon’s citadel. It would take much of his remaining strength to walk the Shadow again, but he dared not linger one moment more in the Gorgon’s halls.
Seriene located the portal again after a brief search. Although she was staggering with exhaustion, she managed to reopen the doorway and send Gaelin and his decimated en- tourage through. They found themselves high on the slopes of Caer Duirga, an hour or so after sunset. The stars were emerging in a field of midnight blue overhead. Gaelin was relieved to count the normal number of lights in the sky; the warm, friendly constellations he knew were still here.
Gaelin was immediately aware of a change in the feel of Caer Duirga. The brooding menace and supernatural chill were gone, replaced by the sense of watchfulness common to any wild place. This was not a place for people to linger near, but the hostility had faded, leaving nothing but a memory.
The ancient evil beneath the hill slept once more.
Three hours after sundown, they stumbled back into the camp they’d left at the foot of the hill. The two guards were still there, nervous and alert. They greeted Gaelin and their fellows with obvious relief. “We wondered if you were ever coming back,” one said.
“We were only gone for a day,” Boeric observed sourly.
“We left at dawn and returned at sunset.”
“Begging your pardon, Sergeant, but you’ve been gone for three full days,” the guard told them. “You left the camp the morning of the day before yesterday.”
Gaelin exchanged a long look with Seriene. The princess merely frowned and shook her head. As she had told them, time ran differently in the Shadow World. Although Gaelin regretted the lost days, he decided not to make any effort to begin their return trek. They were all exhausted, physically and spiritually. He allowed Boeric to build a bright and cheerful campfire that night. Enemies or no enemies, no one wanted to lay awake for a night in a cold and empty place without light and heat.