Ascendancy of the Last - By Lisa Smedman Page 0,31

only share its secrets with a descendant of House Melarn—and I am the last surviving member of that noble House. Everyone else, from its matron mother to the lowest boy, lies buried in the rubble of Ched Nasad. Anyone else who attempts to wear House Melarn’s lorestone will wind up feebleminded.”

Heads nodded slightly at that. All remembered the state Eldrinn had been in, when Q’arlynd had returned the boy to the city two and a half years ago. The connection was obvious.

His speech concluded, Q’arlynd fell silent. There was a further incentive for certain masters, but it couldn’t be spoken aloud. Master Seldszar had spent the last year careŹfully tracing the lineage of each of the current masters of Sshamath’s Colleges. Two other masters, besides Seldszar, could trace their lineage back to ancient Miyeritar. Like him, each might be able to claim a kiira from Kraanfhaor’s Door, so long as he was shown how—something that wouldn’t happen until the College of Ancient Arcana became a reality. Neither of the two masters would know for certain whether anyone else had been promised a selu’kiira. Each would do whatever he could to influence the rest of the Conclave, in order to claim his reward.

“A pretty promise,” Master Shurdriira said. She tipped her head. “But how do we know you will share this magic?”

Q’arlynd smiled. “I have already.” He watched as that sunk in—as the masters glanced covertly at one another, wondering who had already benefited. Then he added, “Do you dare run the risk of being the only one without access to my spells?”

Master Seldszar flicked his fingers: My ball.

Q’arlynd inclined his head, then nudged the gold ball to Seldszar. The Master of Divination touched it, and the speaker’s sphere assumed his likeness. “I suggest we end this debate and put the nomination to a vote.”

“Agreed,” Urlryn said.

“Agreed,” Tsabrak echoed.

One by one—with the exception of Guldor, who remained sullenly silent—the other masters gave their assent.

Tsabrak spoke. “Q’arlynd Melarn, leave us.”

Q’arlynd bowed. Even before he’d finished rising, he teleported away.

He appeared straddling the femur that was the dividing line, his hands raised and ready to cast a spell. Piri lay on the ground a few paces away, either unconscious or dead, his wand beside him. Eldrinn was in even more dire straights.

The deepspawn had already squeezed three of its six tenŹtacles through the gap in the wall of force. One was wrapped around the boy’s chest, and held him dangling above the ground. Though Eldrinn still held his wand, he was either too frightened or too badly hurt to use it. His eyes widened as he spotted Q’arlynd, and his mouth worked, but no words came out. Judging by his purple face, there wasn’t any air left in his lungs.

Q’arlynd conjured lightning. He aimed for the base of the tentacle that held Eldrinn, but the monster was unaccountŹably fast. It yanked that tentacle—and Eldrinn with it—back behind what remained of the wall of force. The magical barrier absorbed the eye-searing bolt.

“Mother’s blood,” Q’arlynd swore. This monster was a fast one.

Suddenly he recalled what his masters at the Conservatory had taught him about these creatures, so many years ago: deepspawn were capable of listening in on thoughts. For someone who could cast spells to shield his mind, this wasn’t a problem. But Q’arlynd had trained as a battle mage. He had dozens of lethal spells at his fingertips, still more that would shield his body. But none that would hide the contents of his mind.

The deepspawn retreated fully behind the wall of force. It waved a tentacle at Q’arlynd, taunting him. The other two tentacles continued to cling tightly to Eldrinn and to something invisible: Piri’s quasit. Even as Q’arlynd watched, Eldrinn stopped struggling, and slumped. His wand fell from his fingers and clattered to the ground.

Q’arlynd had to think of something, and quickly. If he didn’t, the deepspawn would kill Eldrinn—assuming it hadn’t already done so. And now that the monster had withdrawn behind the walls of its cage, Q’arlynd would only be able to target it through the hole. He edged to the side, trying to get into position to do that, but the deepspawn read his mind and moved away.

Come out from behind the wall, coward, he thought at it. Let’s see if you can catch a lightning bolt in your tentacles.

Q’arlynd moved to the spot where his other apprentice lay, bent down, and touched his fingers to Piri’s throat. Blood pulsed beneath the skin. Piri, at least, was still alive.