“But it wasn’t his throat,” Tikri protested.
“She probably couldn’t get at his throat,” Sarai pointed out. “He was awake.”
“But drunk.”
Sarai glowered at Tikri. “Are you seriously claiming you don’t see any possible connection?”
“No,” Tikri admitted. “I’m just not sure there’s a connection.”
“Neither am I,” Sarai said, “but it’s worth investigating, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I suppose so,” Tikri said.
“Then send for this Lieutenant Senden and this man Deran Wuller’s son and have them find Tolthar of Smallgate and bring him to me for questioning.”
“Now?”
“Do you know of a better time? Yes, now!” Tikri put down his own stack of reports and headed for the door, in pursuit of a messenger. In so doing he almost collided with a messenger who had been about to knock at the open door.
“Yes?” Sarai asked, as Tikri apologized and slipped past.
“I’m looking for Mereth of the Golden Door,” the messenger said warily, eyeing Tikri’s departing back. “She has a visitor, and someone told me she might be here.”
“Mereth isn’t here right now,” Sarai replied. “What visitor is this?”
The messenger finally looked into the room. “Oh, is that you, Lady Sarai? It’s three visitors, really—the man gives his name as Tobas of Telven and the women as Karanissa of the Mountains and Alorria of Dwomor.”
Sarai recognized two of the names. These were the foreign experts the Wizards’ Guild had sent for. “Show them in,” she said.
The messenger hesitated. “Well, they aren’t...”she began. “Bring them here!” Sarai commanded, fed up with delays and explanations.
“Yes, my lady,” the messenger said, bowing; she turned and hurried away.
For the next few minutes Sarai sat looking through old reports; then the messenger knocked again.
A spriggan scurried into the room, and Sarai took a moment to chase it to the corner and warn it, “If you tear a single piece of paper, or chew on one, or spill anything on one, I’m going to rip your slimy green guts out and wear them as a necklace; is that clear, you little nuisance?”
“Yes, yes,” the spriggan said, bobbing its head and staring wide-eyed up at her. “Not hurt paper. Nice paper. Nice spriggan not hurt paper.”
“Good,” Lady Sarai said, turning away and finding a young man standing in the doorway. He looked just about her own age; she had expected this famous expert on certain wizardries to be a good deal older.
Well, maybe he had some way of disguising his age—an illusion of some sort, or a youth spell. But then, he looked rather sheepish just now, and Sarai had trouble imagining a wise old wizard, one capable of a youth spell or other transformation, looking so embarrassed when he had done nothing to cause it. Maybe this wasn’t Tobas of Telven at all.
“I’m sorry about the spriggan,” the young man said.
“Oh, it’s not your fault,” Sarai said, waving a hand airily. “The little pests are turning up everywhere lately.”
“Well, actually, I’m afraid it is my fault,” the man insisted. “I created the spriggans. By accident. A spell went wrong on me about six years ago, and they’ve been popping up ever since. And they still tend to follow me around even more than they do other wizards, which is why that one came running in just now.”
“Oh,” Sarai said, unsure whether she should believe this story. It was true that spriggans had only been around for a few years, but had they really come from a single botched spell? “I’m Tobas, by the way. You’re Lady Sarai? Or...” He paused, confused.
“I’m Lady Sarai,” Sarai confirmed.
“Ah.” Tobas bowed politely in acknowledgment, then stepped aside and ushered a black-haired young beauty into the room—one whose green velvet gown failed to hide a well-advanced pregnancy. “This is my wife, Alorria of Dwomor,” Tobas said proudly.
Alorria did not bow, Sarai noticed, and a silver coronet held her hair back from her face—she was presumably a noblewoman of some sort from one of the Small Kingdoms.
Or maybe the coronet was just an affectation, and bowing was uncomfortable because of her belly; Sarai had no firsthand experience to compare.
A second woman, taller, thinner, older, and not visibly pregnant, but also black-haired and beautiful, appeared in the door. Where Alorria wore green velvet, this other wore red.
“And this,” Tobas said, “is my other wife, Karanissa of the Mountains.”
“She’s a witch,” Alorria volunteered.
Tobas nodded agreement. Karanissa bowed.
Sarai didn’t comment, but her lips tightened. Over the years she had met a few men who had two wives, and even one eccentric old fellow with three, and she hadn’t liked the men, their wives, or the whole idea very much; it had always seemed a bit excessive and in doubtful taste. This wizard not only had two wives, he had brought both of them along, despite Alorria’s pregnancy.
The black silk tunic that Tobas wore was hardly extravagant, and his manners seemed acceptable, but still, bringing not just one wife but two, and claiming to be responsible for an entire species, in addition to his supposed expertise in magic—Sarai thought that despite his show of diffidence, this wizard appeared a little too pleased with himself for her liking. She was not favorably impressed.
“I understand you’re an expert on the magic we’re dealing with,” Sarai said, without further preamble. She was not disposed toward idle pleasantries with this man.
“Well, not really,” Tobas said, with a wry half smile. “I don’t know what you’re dealing with. I understand it’s an enchanted blade that appears to have a neutralizing effect on wizardry, and I know a little something about that, though—about things that neutralize wizardry. I don’t honestly know a great deal, but probably I know a little more than anyone else.”
“Do you,” Sarai said. The fellow spoke well enough and wasn’t really an obvious braggart, but she still didn’t like him. “Why is that?” she asked.
“Oh, well, I have rather a personal interest in it,” Ibbas explained. “I happen to have inherited a castle...”
“No, you didn’t,” Alorria protested, “you found it abandoned.”
“Oh, be quiet, All,” Karanissa said. “That’s close enough to inheriting.” “It isn’t the same thing at all!”
“Shut up, both of you,” Tobas said—not angrily, but simply making a request. To Lady Sarai’s surprise, it was obeyed, and the wizard continued.
“Let us say, then, that I have acquired a castle that happens to be under a spell cast during the Great War that renders wizardry ineffective,” Tobas explained. “And for reasons I prefer not to explain, I can’t just sell it or abandon it; I pass through its neighborhood fairly often, and being a wizard, I find the spell very inconvenient—I can’t use my magic there. So I’ve taken to studying what little is known about neutralizing wizardry, in hopes of someday reversing the spell.”
“Ah, I see,” Sarai said. “And are you close? Have you learned much about this sort of negative magic?”