"The creature was under my control," Oriseus retorted.
"You cast no binding spell upon it," Master Sarim observed from the side.
"Had you watched my spell carefully, you would have seen that I bound the monster as I summoned it." Oriseus grinned suddenly. "It's a refinement I worked out a long time ago. Now, have you had enough, Telemachon? You can end the duel by yielding."
Blood dripped from Telemachon's mangled arm, but defiance blazed from within the old man's heart. "No, I'm not done yet," he said. "It's my turn, I believe."
He took two steps forward to his staff, still stuck upright in the ground, and seized it in his good hand. Blue energy crackled and snapped as Telemachon summoned the first spell that Oriseus had cast back from the ground. He shouted a long spell of rolling, brittle words. The staff disintegrated in his hand, and the blue nimbus disappeared, sinking back into the ground again. But a moment later, a brilliant column of energy exploded under Oriseus's feet, ravening skyward as the spell burst free of the earth. Oriseus was bathed in white-hot power, his flesh blistering and bursting wherever the blue-white energy touched him. He reeled back and fell in a smoking heap.
Aeron blinked the afterimage from his eyes, stunned. Oriseus was dead; he had to be. No one could have survived that. But to his amazement, the sizzling wreckage stirred and slowly rose. Oriseus was badly injured, but Aeron could detect the fraying remnant of a sorcerous halo that had protected him from the worst of the blast.
Oriseus's cheerful manner was gone, replaced by deadly hate. "Again you surprise me," he croaked through blackened lips. "Let me show you how it's done, old man."
Oriseus began to weave a spell, his hands turning and flashing as he muttered a cold and inhuman invocation. Aeron strained forward, trying to see what Oriseus was doing, but he could not sense the Weave at work. The delicate web of earth, air, fire, and water remained untouched. Even Oriseus's own life-force was undimmed by his efforts. Aeron realized that the conjuror was employing the shadow magic, the power he'd shown to Aeron on that afternoon on the ruined ramparts. A clot of darkness formed in the air in front of Oriseus, growing larger as his chant continued. How does he do that? Aeron wondered.
Oriseus cried out with an inarticulate shout and released the sphere. The darkness darted forward, leaving streaming shadows in its wake as it arrowed toward Telemachon. The Master Diviner raised a barrier of gleaming light, but the dark sphere punched through it like a spearpoint through thatch. It engulfed the portly wizard, seeming to crumple the substance of his body as if he were a paper doll consumed by an unseen flame. Telemachon's screams were swallowed by the thing that destroyed him. In a matter of moments, nothing remained of the High Diviner.
The black sphere bobbed, flickered, and faded into oblivion. The assembled college was silent with horror and shock. After a long moment, Master Sarim strode into the field. "Oriseus? What has befallen Lord Telemachon? What did your spell do?"
The conjuror raised his eyes, hot and hateful. "If he failed to deflect it, he did not survive," he said. "It was a potent enchantment."
Sarim's face darkened. "You slew him?"
"He had his chance to yield," Oriseus replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am injured and must seek aid." With an iron effort, the conjuror turned awkwardly and staggered toward the college grounds. Within a few steps, several lesser masters and students-the adherents of his faction-caught him and helped him off the field. Aeron watched him go, dazed. It didn't seem possible that Telemachon was dead. He drifted over to the place where Telemachon had vanished, seeking some sign of the fallen master.
"Telemachon was your sponsor, was he not?" Master Sarim stood nearby, evidently as shaken as Aeron.
"Yes," Aeron replied. "I never thought that he would meet his end this way."
"Nor I, Aeron." Sarim scowled, glancing around. No one else was near. The novices and students wandered away from the field in a daze. "Listen, Aeron. I know that you have been spending some of your time studying under Oriseus's tutelage. Do you know how he worked the spell that doomed Telemachon?"
"He is capable of drawing on a source of magic that I can't yet perceive," Aeron replied. "He's been showing me some of his lore, but I don't yet understand how he does it."
"Be careful of him. There is more to Oriseus than meets the eye," Sarim said. He paused, watching Aeron closely. "Where are your allegiances, Aeron?"
Aeron considered the question carefully. "I'm not ready to abandon my studies, not yet. I want to know what power he wields and master it if I can."
Sarim nodded. "It occurs to me that with Telemachon's death, Oriseus and his allies in the senators' faction control a majority of the council. They'll pick whomever they like as his successor."
"Who do you think it will be?"
"Anyone who will swear fealty to Oriseus against the Sceptanar. I think the High Conjuror is getting ready to make a move on the throne, and that Dalrioc Corynian of Soorenar is out to make a friend of the next king of Cimbar."
"Won't the Sceptanar destroy him?" Aeron asked, surprised.
"Perhaps, perhaps not. It is the way of things in Cimbar, Aeron. The Sceptanar is the most powerful mage who wants the throne. From time to time, a new mage rises who has the skill and the ambition to overthrow the old king." The Calishite watched the crowd of students and novices excitedly following Oriseus back into the college. "I've always known that man possessed the ambition. Now I begin to believe he possesses the skill as well."
"You're going to oppose him?"
Sarim met his eyes with a haunted look. "I wouldn't be surprised if Master Raemon's murderer strikes again. Those who stand for the populists or the Sceptanar are going to be removed from positions of authority.. one way or another."
"Telemachon was my sponsor. Without his support, I'll be forced to leave anyway." Aeron paced away, examining the place where Telemachon had stood before he died. "Sarim? I know it's not a matter for students, but why did Telemachon think Oriseus had killed Raemon? What evidence did he have to make that accusation?"
"I do not know. Lord Telemachon was not allowed to argue his point before Oriseus's allies passed a motion absolving Oriseus of suspicion. That was what provoked the argument; Telemachon felt that he was denied the opportunity to present his case."
"I'd like to know what he found out," Aeron said quietly, speaking his mind aloud.
Sarim measured the wiry student with a long, thoughtful look. "So would I. Keep me advised of how your studies with Oriseus proceed, Aeron. I want to know what he teaches you. And in the meantime, you are not without a sponsor. I'll see to it that you can stay here as long as you like. You've been a good student, and you have amazing potential. But watch yourself, Aeron. Knowledge is power. . and risk."
Ten
Within a week of Lord Telemachon's passing, the Ruling Council named a young master Aeron barely knew as the new High Diviner. It was no surprise that the new ruling master was a minor senator and Soorenaran advocate who openly deferred to Oriseus in council meetings and conversations. Although Aeron had little contact with any of his fellow students, and even less with the masters now that Telemachon was gone, he slowly became aware of a growing tension in the air. After years of maneuvering, a challenge to the remote Sceptanar was growing within the halls of the college.