He knew all of that, and none of it made him any happier. Nor did it make the decision any less inevitable, unfortunately, and so he drew a deep breath, touched the stud with his index finger, and murmured a single word in Old Kontovaran.
Talthar Sheafbearer seemed to waver like a reflection in moving water. And then, between one breath and another, he vanished, replaced by Master Varnaythus.
Varnaythus exhaled, then smiled mirthlessly as he caught his slightly blurry reflection in the chamber’s mirror. Talthar was no more remarkable looking than Varnaythus himself, but he was an inch or two taller, at least ten years older, and fair-haired where Varnaythus’ hair was a nondescript brown. Neither of them would ever stand out in a crowd, but neither would either ever be mistaken for the other, which was rather the point.
He’d seriously considered creating yet another persona for his activities here in the North Riding, but he’d decided against it in the end. Cassan and Yeraghor both knew him as Talthar. While they had every reason in the world to keep “Talthar’s” existence a secret, they knew what he looked like, and as Varnaythus was able to burrow deeper and deeper into the North Riding it might become important for Talthar to be able to function as a known go-between for the various conspirators he intended to put into play and keep there. Bringing in yet someone else he’d have to remember to be would only complicate things still further, and unlike some of his fellow wizards, Varnaythus had never delighted in complexity for its own sake. Nor had he ever been foolish enough to confuse mere complexity with subtlety, which was probably one of the reasons he’d been so much more successful-and longer lived-than some of those selfsame fellow wizards.
He smiled again, more naturally, at the thought, then seated himself at the table and drew the gramerhain towards him. He cradled his hands around it, gazing down into its depths, and spoke the quiet command that woke a gradually strengthening glitter deep in its clear, flawless depths. The flicker of light grew stronger, glowing up from the table to light his face from below, throwing his eye sockets into shadow. Had the window’s drapes been open and had anyone happened to glance in the inn’s direction, they would have seen an improbably clear, bright brilliance flooding out into the night. Fortunately, the drapes weren’t open, and so no one disturbed him as the brilliance flared up, brighter than ever, and then coalesced, settling back into the gramerhain. It flowed together, darkening steadily, until it became the closed-eyed face of Magister Malahk Sahrdohr in Sothofalas, more than three hundred and fifty leagues from Halthan.
It took Sahrdohr almost three full minutes to become aware of him and activate his own gramerhain. Then the eyes of his image opened as he settled into the working from his own end, and he arched an eyebrow.
“I expected you two hours ago,” he pointed out mildly.
“I’m aware of that.” Varnaythus’ tone was just a bit testy. “You may remember, however, that there are a few additional difficulties from this end?”
“True,” Sahrdohr responded, apparently oblivious to his superior’s testiness. “On the other hand, you only have to worry about one mage. A powerful one, I’ll grant, but still only one. By my current count, there are at least three dozen of the bastards here in Sothofalas…including the one you’re worried about. Which means I’m just a little more likely to be detected by one of them than you are.”
“Really?” Varnaythus smiled thinly. “Your wards are that inferior, are they?”
Sahrdohr’s eyes gleamed. He was obviously pleased by his ability to get a rise out of Varnaythus, but he also bent his head in acknowledgment of the other wizard’s point. His own chamber in Sothofalas had been carefully shielded and warded with every detection deflecting glamour the Council of Carnadosa had been able to devise. As far as they’d been able to determine-so far, at least-those glamours ought to baffle even a mage. There was no way to be certain of that, however, and putting them in place required a series of workings which had to be accomplished in a very precise order and over several days’ time. There was no way Varnaythus could possibly have erected matching wards here in Halthan.
“So now that I have contacted you,” Varnaythus continued in a brisker tone which accepted both Sahrdohr’s point and his unspoken concession, “is there anything interesting to report from your end?”
“I’m not sure, really.” Sahrdohr shrugged. “Bahzell and Tellian are still here; according to my sources, Bahzell, at least, will be heading back to Balthar sometime in the next two or three days. Vaijon’s already left, probably to get the summer campaign into the Ghoul Moor properly underway. The only really interesting thing about that side of things”-the younger wizard smiled-“is that Yurokhas went with him.”
“Ah?” Varnaythus arched an eyebrow and pursed his lips. “That is interesting,” he acknowledged after a few moments’ thought. “Are you suggesting Yurokhas is going to be involved in Tellian and Bahnak’s campaign?”
“According to my sources, Yurokhas is most definitely not going to be involved,” Sahrdohr replied. “One of Sir Jerhas’ senior clerks told me-confidentially, of course-that His Majesty was very firm about that and that His Highness was very meek and dutiful about accepting the King’s instructions.”
“Of course he was.”
Varnaythus shook his head. Prince Yurokhas was almost certainly the only person in the entire Kingdom of the Sothoii who would meekly and obediently accept his monarch’s instructions…and then cheerfully go and do exactly what he’d intended to do all along. It wasn’t something for the faint of heart, even in Yurokhas’ case, but by now he’d had years of practice. More than enough of them to accustom King Markhos to the notion that it was going to go on happening. In fact, it had gotten even worse since Crown Prince Norandhor’s birth four years ago, when Yurokhas had suddenly become second in line for the crown. He’d always chafed against the restrictions imposed by his place as Markhos’ heir, and now that he’d become so much less irreplaceable…
“That could work out quite well, couldn’t it?” Varnaythus continued. “Assuming that campaign goes as well as I’m sure we all hope it will, at any rate.”
“That’s true. Such a tragic possibility for any good, loyal Sothoii.” Sahrdohr allowed himself a suitably mournful expression for a moment, then shrugged. “Of course, we still have a long way to go before we can convince Cassan to take advantage of the opportunity at his end, and unless we can move against both of them simultaneously-”
He grimaced, and Varnaythus nodded. Eliminating one of the royal brothers would be a less than optimal outcome. In fact, it might well prove disastrous, depending upon the circumstances under which that elimination occurred.
“That’s a worthwhile point,” he acknowledged, “but if this was going to be easy, They wouldn’t have needed us, would they? They could have gone on trusting it to idiots like Jerghar or Dahlaha.”
“Agreed.”
“I take it the numbers Tellian provided to Shaftmaster confirmed what we’d expected?” Varnaythus asked, changing the subject.
“Unfortunately.” There was no amusement in Sahrdohr’s grimace this time. “I’m not senior enough to have sat in on any of the meetings myself, but I was able to get my hands on a true copy of Sir Whalandys’ notes courtesy of my capture spell. I’ll transfer a copy to you at the end of our conversation, but I don’t think you’ll be any happier with them than I was. Assuming Kilthandahknarthas’ estimates are accurate-and when was the last time one of his estimates wasn’t accurate? — Tellian Bowmaster is about to become the richest Sothoii noble in history. Phrobus only knows how much Bahnak is going to make out of it, but the Exchequer’s share of Tellian’s income alone is going to add somewhere between ten and twelve percent to its annual revenues. And that’s from its direct share of his income; it doesn’t even count all of the indirect revenues the Crown is going to generate off of the increased trade.”