As the party rode along the abandoned streets the animals left no hoofprints, nor were there any shadows cast when they passed guttering streetlamps. The Archimage had extended her protective aura about them with little difficulty; ordinarily, the space within arm’s length of her was inviolate to Sight with no effort on her part at all. She had reassured Antar and Anigel at the start of their journey that she possessed an ample magical reserve to oversee Osorkon or the sorcerer. When she was not descrying, she would be able to perform certain other actions from time to time that might aid them in their mission.
Unfortunately, sheltering them all from the cold and the driving snow was impossible under the circumstances. The talisman kept Haramis warm, but she was unable to lend similar comfort to the others, who huddled stoically in their saddles without a word of complaint.
They reached the Great South Gate of the city, which was barred and its towers fully manned. Watchfires burned at the guardhouse and along the massive wall, their flames blowing almost horizontal in the gale.
“I shall go ahead and order the gate opened,” Antar said to Haramis.
But she shook her head. “Even such an action might be observed by Orogastus. If he or his Voices saw the gate unbarred and no one passed in or out, he would suspect at once that magic was at work. No, I can do better than that.”
As the oblivious sentries went about their business the riders halted. Haramis rode alone to the massive barricade and touched it with her talisman. At once the stout timbers and the iron hardware seemed to turn to glass. Antar and the others could not help but cry out in wonder as they saw past the eerie transparency to the dark highroad beyond.
“Ride on,” Haramis commanded, and she and her fronial moved through the closed gate as a knife slices through water. Awed, the others followed. When they were all outside the walls the Great South Gate was restored to its former solidity.
“White Lady, we knew that you were an enchantress of great power,” exclaimed the venerable Count Gultreyn, “but never have I heard of such a thing as this!”
“Nor have I,” Haramis replied calmly. “I did not know for certain that it would work until the moment it happened. I have only recently acquired a new proficiency in the use of magic, Count Gultreyn, and I suspect we are all in for some surprises as time goes on. Only pray that they will be welcome ones.”
They rode on.
Now the night was unrelieved dark. Only the sky overhead retained a faint gray luminescence, useless to storm-lashed travelers. Shiki the Dorok brought out long ropes he had advised them to pack, and these were used to link the two lines of fronials together so none would stray. The animals moved at a brisk pace at first; but they slowed as the snow deepened, and it became evident that the trip would take longer than they had first thought.
They met no one on the highroad. The inhabitants of the villages just outside the city seemed to have fled. After traversing some three leagues, the party turned off onto a lesser route that led through scattered small farmsteads, whose lights were barely visible in the blowing snow, although they were only a stone’s throw from the road.
The Archimage led the way with confidence. Even when she sat rapt in a trance, her mount plodded on steadily under her guidance, apparently unperturbed by the blizzard, puffing great clouds of steam from its nostrils and tossing its head to shake the snow from its eyelashes.
When they had been on their way for more than an hour, Princess Janeel fell asleep in spite of the storm and nearly slipped from her place behind the equally drowsy Crown Prince. Fortunately, Shiki saw what was happening and urged his mount up, managing to catch her before she fell to the frozen ground. After that, Queen Anigel had both children tied to the saddle.
When they started on their way again, Antar said to Haramis: “The storm worsens by the minute. How can Osorkon and I possibly fight a duel in such a pother of snow? We will scarce be able to see one another!”
“Osorkon is encamped among trees that greatly temper the force of the wind,” Haramis said. “Have no fear on that score.”
“It was only a minor concern,” the King admitted. “I have another more critical, which I will admit to you now that Anigel cannot overhear us. My physical condition is far from what it should be. The magical sleep that Orogastus cast over me, and my subsequent imprisonment, were poor preparation for hand-to-hand combat. If I enjoyed my usual health, I could lick Osorkon handily. As it is, it will be a near thing, even though he is twenty years older than I. He is a sturdy old brute, famed for his prowess with a long blade.”
“I could help—” the Archimage began.
“No! That is what I must warn you against, even though my wife will surely entreat you to do so. There can be no unfair advantage of magic on my part if we hope to win over Osorkon’s followers. They must not even know of your presence! I must beat Osorkon fairly, by my own efforts alone … or accept defeat.”
“Even death?” Haramis asked, her voice barely audible above the boisterous tempest.
“You must exert your powers to the utmost to save Anigel and the others if I fall vanquished, but you dare not attempt to save me. Surely you understand!”
“Yes.” Haramis sighed. “I will do as you ask.”
They rode on unspeaking then for a long time, over ground that rose steadily in elevation. The road became nothing more than two frozen ruts clogged by blowing, drifting snow. There were no more fenceposts, nor were there bridges over the ice-clogged streams. Scrubby little trees and bushes crusted with snow appeared on either side of the narrowing track. The travelers were entering the Thicket of Atakum at last, and before long the spindly forest was dense enough to mitigate the force of the storm.
Haramis called a halt when they reached a small and shabby hut, the former abode of charcoal-burners who had been murdered by Osorkon’s troops. The party dismounted and the fronials were tied to saplings near the crude rock kiln, after which the people all took shelter within the hut, crowding closely. The trillium-amber in the Archimage’s talisman glowed like a golden lamp as half-frozen containers of food and drink were unpacked by Jagun and Shiki. When the Archimage tapped the victuals and spiced wine with her talisman, they turned instantly hot and the travelers ate and drank eagerly. Those suffering from frostbite found relief at the touch of Haramis’s hand, and Jagun kindled a small fire in the hearth of the cramped hovel that soon moderated the terrible cold.
“We are now nearly arrived at the encampment,” Haramis said. “I have descried the provincial army and Lord Osorkon, and they suspect nothing. Thus far, we have avoided detection.”
“And the sorcerer?” Anigel asked. She crouched near the fire, holding the two children close to her.
“The Yellow Voice of Orogastus uses the Three-Lobed Burning Eye to oversee Derorguila. The sorcerer himself wears the coronet, and earlier in the evening he did communicate with Osorkon, admonishing him to be ready for the upcoming attack on the city. Now Orogastus is exerting himself without success in an attempt to bring certain objects from his castle in Tuzamen to his ship. He seems completely engrossed in his task, and we are probably safe from his scrutiny for the time being.”
“Then we are ready to advance?” King Antar spoke somberly.
“Yes,” said the Archimage. “We will leave the animals here and go on foot through the woods. Osorkon’s camp is less than a third of a league distant. Bring only your swords. I will lead the way.”
A general murmur of assent came from those present. A large jug of steaming wine was being passed from man to man, and many of them were eating hot rolls or small meat pies. Crown Prince Nikalon swallowed a mouthful of bread and spoke up in a clear voice:
“And what of my sister and me, Father? Will we accompany you?”
“No,” the Archimage made answer. “You and your mother, the Queen, will remain here. Count Gultreyn and the three sons of Lady Ellinis will guard you, as will Jagun and Shiki.”
“No!” Anigel cried desperately. “Antar—let me go wit
h you!”
The King pushed through the crowd of armored, fur-cloaked bodies and took hold of her hands. “My love, you must stay. You and the children would distract me by your presence. I know it will be hard for you, not knowing what happens, but it is for the best. You are in no great danger here. And if the worst should happen, the Archimage will see you and the others to a place of safety.”
“My place is at your side! We agreed!”
“And what if Antar should take a fatal blow,” Kadiya put in, in a voice without mercy, “from having you divert his attention from his foe?”
“Oh, damn you, Kadi!” Anigel wailed. “I would never—”
“You would not do so intentionally,” the King said. “But this fight will be the most difficult of my life. Dear one, I beg you to stay. I would fight with a lighter heart.”
Anigel looked up at him with eyes brimming, her face framed in golden worram fur to which droplets of melting snow still clung. “Antar … oh, my darling! Here I am again, hindering you in your duty for the sake of my selfish needs. Forgive me. Of course I will stay.” Their lips met, then she slipped away from his arms and beckoned Niki and Jan. “Kiss your father good-bye, my little ones.”
The children came gravely to the King, and he bent to embrace them.
“We will pray for you,” Anigel said. “Remember that I love you with all my heart and soul.”
The King said nothing more, only donning his helmet again and checking his sword to see that it slipped easily from its scabbard. The knights who were to accompany him did likewise, then came one by one to make their duty to the Queen and receive the blessing of her hand before following the Archimage outside.
Kadiya was the last to leave. “Sister,” she said to Anigel in a tentative voice, “would you have me stay with you?”
But Anigel shook her head and turned away in silent misery, forgetting to offer the blessing.
“Then I will be the one standing closest to the King during his ordeal,” Kadiya said, “and either the first to congratulate him on his victory, or the first to give my life to avenge him. Farewell.”
“Kadi—” The Queen lifted her head slowly.
But the Lady of the Eyes had gone.
Little Shiki, his inhuman eyes filled with grief, exclaimed impetuously: “Oh, Great Queen! Can you not forgive your sister?”
“I have,” Anigel insisted, staring into the flames. But the blood red trillium dangling from its golden chain gave her the lie.
What does he seek with such urgency? Haramis asked her talisman. Earlier, she had been too distracted to consider the implications of the sorcerer’s peculiar magical activity; but now as she hurried through the darkness, the others following, the question assumed a dire importance.
The Three-Winged Circle replied: Orogastus seeks to transport to himself the paraphernalia for initiation into the Society of the Star.
Good God! And what persons would he initiate—his Voices?
Yes.
But why?
His motives are hidden from me by the Seal of the Star.
Haramis uttered a brief cry of irritation. But then, as she continued to lead the men and Kadiya single file through the snowbound woodland, the answer came to her. Of course! The Cynosure! What had the sindona Teacher said?… Only the Star Council or the entire Archimagical College could destroy the black hexagon that was the key to the permanent exile of Orogastus!
Already knowing the answer, she again questioned the talisman: How many persons are needed to make an effective Star Council?
Three or more.
And that explained it.
Drawing to a halt, she took hold of the talisman to again descry the sorcerer on his ship—and drew a sharp inhalation at the Sight.
Orogastus was no longer dressed in his usual white garments, but had donned the awesome vestments that he had worn long ago in honor of his Dark Powers. He was clad in a long robe of silver mesh with panels of gleaming, supple black leather. His cloak was also black, lined in silver, with an ornate clasp and a great multirayed star emblazoned on the back. On his hands were silver leather gauntlets. His features were nearly hidden by an extraordinary silver mask that covered all but the lower part of his face, haloing his head with tall, sharp-pointed starry rays. On the brow of the mask shone the talisman called the Three-Headed Monster. The eyes of the sorcerer were twin points of brilliant white light.
Kneeling side by side at their master’s feet were the Purple and Yellow Voices, their hoods drawn back from their shaven heads and their eye-sockets seeming to be empty black holes. One of the sorcerer’s hands hovered above the motionless acolytes; the other held high the unpointed sword of the Three-Lobed Burning Eye.
“I command you, talismans!” he intoned. “I adjure you in the name of the Star! Transport to me here the ancient coffer sealed with the Star that rests in my inner sanctum at Castle Tenebrose in Tuzamen. Carry it through the air to me on swift winds of magic! Obey me!”
No! Haramis said. I order thee, my Three-Winged Circle, to debar the coffer’s coming.
But in her vision, a decayed old trunk was already materializing in midair before Orogastus—a thing bound about with blackened silver straps, having upon its lid a dark, corroded Star.
Haramis fixed her mind upon it, visualized it turned to iridescent crystal, and with all her might willed it to return to where it had been.
And it did.
The two Voices convulsed in a sudden paroxysm and slumped senseless at the sorcerer’s feet. He faltered, regarding them with dismay, and then gave a roar of rage.
“Haramis! You have done this!”
Yes, she said.
Slowly, Orogastus lowered the Burning Eye, swallowing the curses he would have uttered, seeking desperately to control himself.
“Haramis, show yourself,” he pleaded in a broken voice. “Where are you? Why have you not responded to my calls? Speak to me! Come to me! We can yet prevent the destruction of your sister’s nation and the deaths of thousands. My dearest love—only hear what I have to say! Let me see your dear face. You must!”
Pierced to the heart, Haramis hesitated. Then, with a cry of pain, she banished the Sight of him and stood shuddering amidst the falling snow, gripping the wand of her glowing talisman with bare hands. Her face was drawn with horror. Kadiya, Antar, and the knights regarded her in numb astonishment, knowing that something frightful had happened, but unable to comprehend.
“Without thinking, I almost went to him,” she whispered.
“Sister, what is it?” Kadiya said, full of anxiety. “Has aught gone wrong in the camp of Lord Osorkon?”
The Archimage gave a great start, then pulled herself together. “No. It is nothing … nothing that need concern us now. Follow me.”
They went on.
At length, with the snowfall diminishing, they saw the orange glow of firelight through the trees ahead. Then they spied the first of the sentries glumly pacing his rounds. They passed within six ells of the provincial warrior without his seeing them. Continuing, they encountered many other guards who remained equally blind to their presence.
Finally they came into the encampment itself and walked through rows of small tents. There were still many junior knights and men-at-arms wandering about or huddled around fires, but none paid heed to the Archimage and her companions. Unimpeded, they made their way toward an ornate pavilion fronted by a broad area of trampled snow. A bonfire blazed before the great tent, and lances bearing the pennons of Lord Osorkon and the four provincial lords who were his confederates stood upright on either side of the doorway.
King Antar marched to the center of the open space and halted. He drew back his fur-lined hood so that the crown-helm of Labornok, with its visor like the open jaws of a fierce Skritek monster, gleamed in the firelight. Kadiya and Balanikar stood on either side of him and the six other loyal Laboruwendians ranged themselves behind.
Haramis had rendered herself invisible and now bespoke the King:
Now it is up to you, dear Brother-in-Law. I will remain unseen so that Osorkon will have eyes for you alone, but I will keep careful watch in case any base person attempts to interfere with this affair of honor.
“Thank you,” whispered Antar. “When will Osorkon and the others become aware of our presence?”
As soon as you call him out.
Antar took off his cloak, passing it to Kadiya, and drew his sword. The others followed suit, holding their blades at the ready.
“General Osorkon!” Antar cried. “Osorkon, come forth and answer to your King!”
At once the inhabitants of the camp became aware of the intruders. They came running toward the great tent of the noblemen, grabbing up their weapons on the way. But when they arrived, they found themselves mysteriously unable to enter the open space. Gawking and shouting their alarm and amazement at the sight of King Antar and his companions, they gathered in a huge mob round about and waited to see what would happen.
“Osorkon, come forth!” the King repeated. “I declare you to be a traitor and a wicked violator of your oath of fealty. I declare that you have conspired with the pirate nation of Raktum and the vile Master of Tuzamen, who even now are poised to invade Derorguila. Perfidious rogue! Betrayer of your country! Come out and meet the justice you deserve.”
There followed a long silence. Only a few snowflakes sifted down now and the wind had fallen away. At the King’s side, Kadiya felt her heart pounding. She was suddenly stifling in her fur cloak and felt drops of sweat trickle down her neck beneath the scaled neck-guard of her golden helmet. She dared to look down, and saw the Black Trillium within the drop of amber that glowed brilliantly on her breastplate.
Flower of the Threefold, she prayed, give him strength! Grant him victory! Save my dear sister’s husband!
The tent-flap opened and Osorkon strode forth. He had managed to put on only the upper-body pieces of his black armor. He carried his winged helmet under one arm and his gigantic two-handed sword was naked in his other hand. Kadiya drew in her breath at the sight of him. She had forgotten what a huge man he was. He was nearly bald and his beard was streaked with gray. He wore a thunderous glower as he strode toward the King, stopping some four ells distant. He was followed by his henchmen, Soratik, Vitar, Pomizel, and Nunkaleyn—plus a stumbling gaggle of squires bearing shields and assorted weapons, who frantically assisted their masters in adjusting their armor.