when imbibed. It seems to release all inhibitions, eliminate all guile, and induce a state of mind that is utterly incapable of lying. So you see, there is really no point in attempting to deceive me, as I will have the answers I seek.”
“Maybe … but not today,” Abigail said.
“Very well, perhaps another line of questioning is in order,” Zuhl said. “What did Alexander find in the Stone’s Wizard’s Den?”
“I have no idea,” Abigail said. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Truth is, I didn’t even know he’d gotten into the Wizard’s Den yet.”
“Fair enough,” Zuhl said. “I have reason to believe there is a book of great interest to me, either in the Stone’s Wizard’s Den or the sovereigns’ library within the Reishi Keep. I intend to make a trade with your brother … you for that book. Provided he delivers it to me before the winter solstice.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abigail said, “but if this book you’re looking for is where you think it is, I doubt Alexander will ever give it to you.”
“Fortunately, I have a contingency,” Zuhl said. “I’m a firm believer in backup plans and redundancies. If I don’t receive the book by the solstice, then I will consume your life force in my yearly rejuvenation sacrifice. Either way, I get something I need.”
Abigail swallowed hard, trying to calculate how many days remained before the shortest day of the year.
“You have just over three weeks,” Zuhl said. “That should be more than enough time. Not to worry, I’ve already sent word to your forces. I trust they will relay the message with haste.”
A thousand questions and concerns vied for attention within her mind but one rose to the top of the list. “What’s so important about this book?”
“Ah, I’m glad you asked,” Zuhl said. “I must say, Lady Abigail, I’m enjoying our conversation immensely. There’s no one on the entire Isle of Zuhl who would dare to address me so casually, so simply. I find it refreshing … novel even.
“I am very old, seven hundred and twenty-eight years old, to be precise. Over the centuries, I have collected a great number of very rare works, many unique. I’m especially interested in the journals of wizards. You would be surprised the things you can learn about magic from the musings of long-dead wizards.
“One in particular has haunted me for centuries. A wizard named Jacinth. He was the lead assistant to Malachi Reishi in his research laboratory. He spoke of a spell that Malachi was developing in his last days, a spell that Jacinth had helped him create, a spell that I simply must have. Jacinth wrote that he watched Malachi pen the spellbook himself and saw him store it away inside his Wizard’s Den. He called it the ‘Lich Book,’ a spell of such potency that Malachi killed all of the researchers who helped him develop it once it was complete, even Jacinth. The last entry tells how Malachi permitted Jacinth to take a poison that would kill him painlessly in honor of his years of loyal service.
“This book contains a spell that is the key to true immortality, and I must have it.”
“And you think Alexander is just going to give it to you?”
“He will if he values your life,” Zuhl said. “If not, then I’ll find a way to take it from him.”
“I doubt it,” Abigail said. “Just for the sake of argument, how is this immortality spell supposed to work?”
“Therein lies the genius,” Zuhl said, sitting back comfortably. “The spell transfers one’s life essence into a phylactery, a specially prepared item designed to store a soul, while animating the now dead body with the person’s awareness, will, and power. Through death, eternal life is found. It’s perfect. Since your body is already dead, it can never be killed. Not only would this spell grant immortality, but near invulnerability as well. It is the god-maker spell that I have been searching for all my life.”
“If Alexander actually has this book, and he has any idea what it does, I guarantee he won’t trade,” Abigail said.
“Perhaps not,” Zuhl said, standing and placing a vial of slightly blue liquid on the table. “This is dragon draught; it will ward you against the cold.”
“What cold?” Abigail asked, suddenly wary.
“We’re leaving Irondale for Whitehall,” Zuhl said. “You’ll ride with me on Izzulft. I assure you, the journey will kill you without the dragon draught.”
Abigail hesitated, looking at the vial, then at Zuhl.