of the magic used to create these things.’
The Talnoy were artefacts from another circle of reality, created by a race called the Dasati and were extremely dangerous. They were suits of armour powered by the imprisoned souls, or spirits, of the Dasati, and as such they were almost impervious to damage, immune to pain, and mindless in their obedience. According to what Kaspar of Olasko had told the Conclave about when he had brought the first Talnoy to their attention, ‘Talnoy’ was Dasati for ‘very hard to kill’.
Magnus continued, ‘They agree that any major incursion into our level of reality, for lack of a better term, would be catastrophic. As such, they are endeavouring to discover as much as possible about the wards we disturbed when we first discovered the Talnoy repository in the cave.’
He glanced at Nakor who said, ‘Nothing new to report, I’m sorry to say.’ The self-proclaimed gambler who refused to admit that he was a magician, paused as he considered his words. Finally, he continued, ‘Our girls and boys’ – he referred to all the younger magicians on Sorcerer’s Island as girls and boys – ‘are trying very hard to understand these things.
‘The one good thing,’ he said with a grin, ‘is that I think we have found a way to ensure that only we can command them should it come to a confrontation with the Dasati.’
Pug said, ‘That’s something at least. Ten thousand Talnoy under our command is nothing to be taken lightly.’ He ignored the impulse to add that against the hundreds of thousands of Talnoy controlled by the Dasati, that number would amount to very little. ‘But I think our interests are best served if we can discover how they remained hidden for so long. In other words, if we can stay hidden from the Dasati, then we will have accomplished the most important task we have before us.
‘Our other task is hunting down Leso Varen.’
Miranda said, ‘Have we any idea to where he might have fled?’
‘I have agents keeping alert for anything out of the ordinary concerning magic.’
Miranda’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘He’s gone to ground for years at a time.’
Pug said, ‘But this time I think he will be anxious to re-establish his presence. He knows something important is out there, even if he has no idea what the Talnoy represent or how he might use them to his advantage. If nothing else, he will want to deny us something that powerful.
‘His attack on the island and Elvandar last year proved that he has grown bolder, and whatever tendency he had for stealth is gone. He re-manifested his powers quickly after his host was killed by Talwin Hawkins. I think it’s safe to assume we’ll hear from him again, and soon.’
Rosenvar said, ‘Pug, what is it you’ve not told us?’
Pug smiled. He had chosen Rosenvar to join the inner circle because the man had keen insight and an almost intuitive ability to glean answers from very scant information. ‘It is nothing specific, really. Just some troubling dreams, and bad feelings.’
Uskavan’s black eyes were wide as he said, ‘Never ignore dreams, Pug. My people believe that parts of our minds are always at work, always seeking to understand things. Dreams are often the means by which some parts of the mind communicate what is about to become conscious thought; especially when the emotions are strong. Our races are not that different; when it comes to the workings of our minds we have much in common.’
Magnus glanced at the alien magician and Pug could almost read his son’s thoughts: few humans, including Pug, Miranda and Magnus, could even begin to approach the mind-discipline of a novice of Uskavan’s order. Salavan minds were far more complex than human ones, despite Uskavan’s insistence this was only because the Salavans were an older race and had been practising mental arts for thousands of years.
Pug nodded, a slight expression of resignation on his face. ‘Indeed. I fear my dreams may be portends of coming disaster. Or, they may simply be a manifestation of my concerns over the Dasati.’
Magnus said, ‘Father, we must prepare as if they are coming.’
‘I know.’ Pug looked at each member of the inner circle of the Conclave. ‘Send word to our agents who are placed in all the royal courts. I want to know about every ambition, plot or intrigue, and any situation that could be turned to our advantage. If we must, we shall bribe and threaten to secure help in such a conflict.’
Pug fell silent for a minute. He remembered the Riftwar; for twelve years, while the Tsurani had fallen upon the Kingdom and the Free Cities, Queg, Great Kesh and the lesser kingdoms to the east had watched with keen anticipation, seeking any opportunity to advance their own cause at the Kingdom’s expense. ‘Should the Dasati come, we must have friends in high places who will argue that every nation needs to respond quickly, no matter where the invasion strikes.’
Magnus said, ‘Father, that is all well and good should an attack happen in Triagia – all the monarchs on this continent have some sense of vulnerability – should aliens set foot on close by soil they would be equally vulnerable and will unite, but what if the beachhead is some deserted shore of the Sunset Islands, or down in the grasslands of Novindus, or the high plateau of Wynet?’
‘A more difficult task, then,’ said Pug. He looked at his council, pausing a moment to study each face. Miranda seemed as enigmatic as a stranger. She often kept her own counsel and took matters into her own hands. They had fought more than once over the years about her putting agents into the field without consulting him or giving orders that he disagreed with. He smiled slightly. As long as his wife was involved, Pug could never be accused of ruling the council of the Conclave of Shadows. She nodded slightly and returned his smile, and he knew this time she was in full agreement.
Rosenvar’s lined face looked as if it was fashioned from sunburnt leather. His reddish hue was accentuated by a shock of unruly blond hair, now rapidly turning white. ‘It seems to me,’ he said, ‘that we might be well served if we started leaking a rumour or two.’
Pug was silent for a moment. ‘To what end?’
The magician from Salmater smiled and Pug recalled the first time he had met him, sitting in the corner of an ale house, dispensing sage advice, minor charms and outright lies with equal abandon to anyone who’d stand him the price of a drink. Since coming to the island, he had stayed relatively sober, and his drinking bouts were few and far between.
‘Rumours are wonderful things, when employed correctly,’ said Rosenvar. His voice tended to rumble as if it started somewhere deep within his bowels and slowly worked its way up through his throat. ‘I’ve seen entire cities turned on their collective ear by the right rumour, Pug. Rulers distrust official reports and credible witnesses, but a juicy rumour … ah, that’ll set them running around like turkeys in a storm, heads turned upwards with mouths agape, trying to drown themselves in the downpour.’
Pug chuckled. He enjoyed Rosenvar’s turns of phrase. ‘Very well, but what rumours?’
Rosenvar lost his smile. ‘Word is Duke Erik is ill, perhaps dying, in Krondor.’
Pug nodded. ‘So I have heard.’
Miranda said, ‘He is the last.’
Pug knew what she meant. He was the last survivor of Calis’ company of ‘Desperate Men’, those prisoners given their freedom in exchange for making the journey down to Novindus at the start of the Serpentwar, and the only man of rank still serving who had survived the conflict. Erik knew
