that I’ve put you at risk of the coronal’s displeasure. Better to keep Alliere out of this for now.”
Daried rested his hand on Geran’s shoulder briefly. “Perhaps you’ve learned a little wisdom since you left, then. I will send word to you when I learn something.” The elf nodded to Hamil and Sarth before he turned and hurried off into the cold mists.
Geran and his companions waited a short time, so that anyone who’d noticed Daried leaving wouldn’t associate him with the three of them. Then they made their way back to the Swan House on the city’s north shore. The weather gave Geran a perfect excuse to hide under his hood, but he still felt a shiver of nervousness each time they passed elves in the streets. When they reached their inn, he settled himself by the fire to wait, and encouraged his friends to go enjoy the city’s winerooms and taverns for the evening. He would have much preferred to show them some of the places he remembered in person, but it was simply out of the question.
The three travelers passed the next day and a half in much the same manner; Geran stayed in the Swan House, while Hamil made a show of looking through the wares of various craftsmen and merchants with Sarth at his side, playing the part he’d given himself. Then, late on the second day, Geran was startled by the appearance of a blue songbird by their room’s window. He rose quickly and let the small creature in; it landed on the table and held still while he carefully retrieved the tightly rolled scrap of paper it carried from its talon. It read:
Meet me in the woods south of the Celestrian at midnight. I have learned that there is an entrance there.
“My thanks, Daried,” Geran breathed softly. He scribbled a quick reply, and gave it to the same bird to carry back to his old mentor. Then he turned his attention to studying his spells, waiting for night to come.
FIFTEEN
14 Alturiak, the Year of Deep Water Drifting (1480 DR)
The Warlock Knight Kardhel Terov stood by his bedchamber’s narrow windows, gazing out at the gray winter morning and the snowy landscape. He’d conjured his small fortress atop a bare hilltop on the shores of Lake Hul, a little more than four miles from Hulburg. The magical tower was his prized possession, a stronghold significantly more spacious on the inside than it appeared. With an hour’s preparation, he could dismiss it into a distant dimension, only to summon it again wherever and whenever he happened to find himself in need of it. Not only did the iron tower provide him and his entourage with excellent protection against brigands, raiders, monsters, and other ill chances of the road, it also ensured a certain level of comfort in his frequent journeys. Terov was no stranger to privation, but he saw no particular virtue in it either.
He was interrupted in his reflections by a knock at the chamber door. “Enter,” he called, absently cinching his sleeping robes closer around his waist.
A tall, red-haired woman in gray robes let herself into the chamber. She wore a dark veil over her eyes—the emblem of the nishaadhri, the Bound Ones. In Vaasa, mages were permitted their studies only if they swore lifelong fealty to the Warlock Knights; Terov’s order was jealous of its power and had no intention of permitting anyone to wield arcane magic that they did not control in some manner. The Bound One bowed deeply before speaking, strictly formal even though she often shared Terov’s bed at his command. “We have word from Griffonwatch, my liege,” she said. “The harmach will receive us at noon.”
“Good,” Terov answered. “Have an escort of six armsmen made ready, Saavi. We will ride in an hour.” The veiled sorceress bowed and withdrew; a moment later Terov’s valets entered to assist him in dressing. That was another advantage offered by the tower—it could accommodate an entourage of a score or more, which only befitted a fellthane of his rank. They fitted him in his armor of black plate, chased with arcane sigils rendered in gold filigree, and then helped him don the long surcoat and surplice of red and black that went over the armor. A heavy broadsword was belted to his hip, and next to that a wand of black wood. As a rule, Warlock Knights did not appear in public unless armed and ready for battle.