The eminent visitors were gathered in the taproom of the harborside inn, drinking hot tea, mulled wine or spiced beer. The villagers had withdrawn out of respect and were pushing and shoving each other at the window and the doorway, trying to get a glimpse of the high personages. They sent in a few of their number to convey their best wishes or make presentations of gifts, but without a specific invitation none of them dared to approach closer than four paces.
“You’re positive the magic source has been destroyed?” Tungdil addressed Coira, who was now wearing the simple garb of a fisherwoman and had wrapped herself in a blanket.
“I realized straightaway,” she answered despondently. “All the energy was released and I managed to absorb some of it, but… now… it is dead. There is nothing left at all where the source used to be.”
Ireheart thought back to the fizzing sensation and how the runes on Tungdil’s armor had started to glow. That must have been the reason: Magic had been set free into the air! Personally, he could have done without that experience, but the loss of the magic source would be of terrible significance for them all!
Coira smiled at her subjects even if she found it hard. None of this was their fault and she did not want to disappoint anyone. She gestured to a little girl with a basket of gifts, accepted the presents graciously and stroked the girl’s blond hair. “Thank you very much.” Curtseying prettily, the young girl hurried back to the others waiting outside.
“I simply can’t think what kind of creature was responsible for Lakepride’s collapse and the destruction of the magic source,” said Tungdil.
The maga shook her head and gave her attention to the gifts she had been brought: There was a brooch made of fish bone with an image of the island engraved on it. Sighing, she clasped it in her hand.
“I think it must have been Lot-Ionan.” Rodario the Seventh looked round the circle. “The magus must have created that monster and sent it here, either to kill the maga or to destroy her source of magic. Once it knew that it was dying it threw itself down the shaft to carry out its mission.” He touched his throat. “I saw quite clearly that it was wearing a chain with an onyx pendant. Perhaps that was the cause of the explosion?”
“Possibly.” Coira nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps he put a spell in the stone. It must have been some very powerful sorcery to have an effect like that.”
“This brings us to a vital issue. Are you prepared to help us fight the magus?” Tungdil looked at her searchingly. “More to the point: Are you capable of helping us?”
“So you want to pursue the Dragon first and then go off to the south,” she summarized. “If we accept Rodario’s idea, Lot-Ionan won’t have attacked me and the source for no reason. Sooner or later he will attempt to conquer Girdlegard, and this act will have been the opening gambit for a takeover of Weyurn. He knows I need the source to be able to put up any lasting resistance.”
“How much magic power were you able to absorb?” Tungdil wanted to know.
“Enough for now.” Coira sat up straight in her chair. “I’d need more if I were to campaign against Lot-Ionan. That will be what you were asking, Tungdil Goldhand.”
“To be frank, I doubt you would be powerful enough to do anything to stop him.”
Ireheart listened as his friend deliberately provoked the young maga. Any minute now he’ll be needing his armor! But to his surprise she responded with a friendly smile.
“I know what you think of me: A young woman, hardly out of training, and one who’s managed to bungle things so badly as to kill her own mother. But I assure you that I am spurred on by these drawbacks. Perhaps a warrior heart will be bestowed on me yet.” She paused. “I shall accompany you to the Red Mountains.”
“Your Majesty!” objected Rodario. “To wage war on the Dragon is…”
“… is an excellent decision,” interjected Tungdil. “I know why you wish to come with us: I’ve heard the rumors that there may be a further magic source in the firstlings’ realm.”
The same idea had just occurred to Ireheart. Goda had occasionally mentioned that merchants traveling from the west to trade with the fourthlings had spoken of mysterious lights in the Red Mountains. She had deduced the lights might have a connection with magic. However, it had been no more than rumors and vague speculation.
“Exactly. I will come with you and will collect as much magic power as I can; then I can help you against the magus.”
Rodario raised his hand. “Permit me to speak. What assurance do we have that Lot-Ionan hasn’t sent more of these creatures up into the mountains or over to where the alfar are?”
“There’s no guarantee. But Lohasbrand can deal with them as easy as pie. I don’t suppose the alfar would be able to do the same, unless they’ve got Aiphaton at their side,” Tungdil replied.
Mallenia had kept quiet throughout this exchange, limiting herself to furious glances at Hargorin Deathbringer. But she had held her tongue for the sake of peace. Ireheart could tell she was finding it difficult. In her opinion the Deathbringer had committed too many crimes in the name of the alfar. Ireheart had to admit she had a point. “I don’t like the pact we’ve entered into with the black-eyes. They’ve oppressed my people for so many cycles now and suddenly it’s all sweetness and light with Aiphaton and he’s planning to lead the alfar to their deaths and to destroy their empires?” Her mouth narrowed to a very thin line. “I don’t believe it.”
“Who says the thirdlings are going to join us?” Rodario asked them to consider. “Right, one of their number has become high king-but don’t they still despise the other dwarf-tribes?” He glanced at Hargorin and Barskalin. “How can you remove my doubts for me?”
“Your doubts?” asked Hargorin in astonishment. “You’re an actor. You’re only sitting at this same table because you invited yourself. You have no part in decisions concerning the future existence of Girdlegard. You can’t even fight. But I suppose we can take you along as a mascot.” Barskalin laughed in agreement.
Now a smile, dangerous enough to rival Tungdil’s best, crept onto the actor’s visage. “Try to strike me and you’ll have to take back those words.”
Coira leaned over to speak to Mallenia. “If I’m not mistaken, his face is looking much thinner.”
The Ido girl agreed. “And the lake has torn off a few beard hairs, I see.” Looking more closely she noted a distinct dark shadow round his chin, throat and cheeks. “But they’ll be growing back with a vengeance, stronger than ever, I expect.” The two girls exchanged glances, each reading the other’s suspicions.
In the meantime Hargorin had got up from his seat and had planted himself in front of Rodario. “You don’t know what you’ve taken on.”
“Yes, I do,” he said confidently. “But it is not nice to fight in the presence of ladies. It would not be fitting to smear the place with your blood and guts while they are watching. And at the moment we have a more pressing task.”
“Stop it! Both of you!” Tungdil called impatiently.
“But I’m not being taken seriously merely because I appear on the stage. I can’t accept that. My question was not stupid: I was wondering about the loyalty of the thirdlings,” Rodario returned. “What if they decide to help the alfar? They’ve served them for over two hundred cycles. If there’s a shift in the balance of power they’ll suffer great losses-never mind that, they’ll be exposed to the rage of the humans in Urgon, Idoslane, and Gauragar. They’d be definitely better off if there’s no change at the top.”
“It’s worth considering,” Mallenia agreed. In gratitude Rodario sent her a long, warm look.
Rodario placed his hands on the table. “Can you understand why I’m hesitating here? What if the dwarf-haters were to attack the fourthlings and fifthlings while they’re marching south? We’d never manage a campaign against Lot-Ionan after that.”
“We follow Tungdil Goldhand,” smoldered Hargorin.