"Master of the five Magics" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hardy Lyndon)

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Improvised Ritual

ALODAR stretched to tiptoe in the darkness and groped with both hands against the sloping library walls. His right brushed against one of the decorative nodules that randomly dotted the sides. He put his foot onto the projection at knee level and pulled himself up. He was off and climbing.

With his left hand, he reached out for another purchase and lifted himself three feet more. His feet wobbled against the narrow projections, and his hands felt slippery from the effort to scale the steep incline. Upwards he struggled, ten feet and then another ten, switching back and forth laterally across the face of the slope as he climbed.

After thirty feet, he stopped and cautiously adjusted the straps that held the pack to his back. The next handhold was only a foot above his head but far to his left, outside of comfortable reach. Alodar extended his hand, rocking all of his weight onto his left foot and stretching as far as he dared, but a good nine inches separated him from the grip. He looked back down to the esplanade and felt the first twinge of the instinctive reaction to his height.

He frowned tightly and shut his view of the hard cobblestones out of his mind. Moving his right hand close to his body for additional thrust, he sprang upwards and outwards towards the grip.

The momentum of his jump carried him past the target, and his hand closed on empty air. As he began to slide downwards, he lashed out again, catching the nodule as it seemed to rush upwards into his hand. He felt the tug of his body loosen his fingers, not yet set in their tenuous grip, and he reached about with his feet frantically for the perch they had just left. His right foot felt resistance and he thrust savagely against it to stop the downward motion.

In an instant, Alodar's hand grip was secure, but he was diagonally stretched across the face of the pyramid, holding on with opposite arm and leg fully extended. Slowly he worked his right arm upwards until he could clasp his hands together. Then, abandoning his foothold and pulling so that his arms trembled, he raised his head until the nodule he gripped was at eye level. Carefully, he extended his leg outwards to the left and then smiled with satisfaction when he felt another gemstone beneath his heel.

Other nodules were randomly scattered nearby; in a few minutes, Alodar was resting for a second time, but some ten feet higher than before. Only thirty feet remained until the top, and the grips seemed closer spaced than below. Exercising increased caution as he moved higher, he gained the level of the apex in another half hour.

Alodar peered in through the square opening and saw the back of a heavy tapestry blocking out the wind and starlight. He reached into his pack and withdrew the small disk of metal that he had received from Cynthia and clasped it firmly in his left hand. No grillwork or shutters barred his entrance. Pushing his arm in front, he squirmed through the window and thrust the curtain aside.

He dropped to the floor silently and stood frozen for a moment more. No bells sounded in alarm at his presence. Alodar waited a full minute and then another. Nothing stirred and only his own breathing broke the absolute quiet. Cautiously he lit a small candle and looked about in the flickering light. The room was as he had seen it before, cramped and unfurnished except for the U-shaped table that crowded about its periphery.

Alodar slowly moved to the portal in the floor that led to the library proper, expecting at each step to trigger the watchbells. He grasped the latch and pulled the door open, staring into the blackness below.

The candlelight showed the first rungs of the staircase that spiraled downwards to the floor, but Alodar did not place his foot on the first tempting step. The magicians let the lower orders into the library and then left them unattended. Something kept them from using the stairway. Indeed, Beliac had pressed his ring against the banister before they had started their climb.

Uncoiling the rope from his pack, he secured it to one of the legs of the massive table and let the other end fly downward into the darkness. He grasped the rope awkwardly, not trusting to remove the golden disk from his palm. Slowly, he let himself down hand over hand in the midst of the spiral, gradually loosing his sense of height in the blackness. Methodically, he descended a foot at a time, unmindful of how far he had traveled and how far yet to go.

His reverie was suddenly broken by the sharp contact of solid stone beneath his feet. He released his grasp of the rope and stood upright in exultation. He had gained the library floor.

Alodar relit the candle and let his eyes grow accustomed to its meager light. All about the four walls books, scrolls, and manuscripts were neatly stacked, beckoning with the secrets of the magicians. He quickly scanned the vast arrays of knowledge and saw in the north corner scrolls tossed in a disarray uncharacteristic of the order of the rest. He walked over to the pile and lifted the first one from the heap.

"Helices and spirals, tier four; Heptagons, tier three; Hexagonal symmetries and tiles, tier fourteen," he read aloud softly. "The index, precisely what I need."

He shuffled through the coiled manuscripts until he found the one that alluded to his metal spheres. "Tier seven," he mumbled and counted off the cases from where he stood. Several minutes later, after carefully scrutinizing titles in the dimness, he found what he sought and wrenched the book from its place on the shelf.

Cracking it in the middle, he held the exposed pages to the light and mouthed what he read.

"The two spheres of Dandelin are tangent to the ellipse at points one and two respectively and touch the cone along parallel circles. If we join the point of presence to the points of tangency and also the line connecting with the vertex, these lines will all lie entirely on the surface of the cone."

Alodar snapped the book shut, set it back in the rack, and exhaled a deep sigh. The secret of the spheres would not be a single night's work, he reasoned sadly. Time would have to be spent with some fundamentals before be could even begin to understand what he needed to know. The general education that took an initiate through acolyte to magician would not be necessary; he could focus on only those things necessary. Still, the walls of the library would have to be scaled many times before he was through with his task.

Moving with considerably less haste back to the index tier, Alodar began to search for the first reference text of the beginning initiate.

"And Cynthia disappeared without a trace as well," Hypeton babbled on. "She has been missing nearly a month, yet both sides avow no knowledge of her, but accuse instead the other of misdeed. The tension virtually pulls the Guild asunder."

Alodar nodded sleepily in reply and pulled closed his entrance curtain as the other neophyte departed. He worked with dedicated effort by day so no attention would be drawn to him, but even more diligently at night as he delved into the secret of the spheres. The ascent was by now a mere routine and most of the evening could be spent in study. Still, the intensity with which be concentrated and the strain of anticipated discovery took their toll as surely as the labors of the day. At least tonight would be the last, Alodar thought slowly, his weariness suppressing even the excitement of the occasion. He knew enough now about this one facet of magic to start the ritual that would release the power of the spheres. He shouldered his pack and looked about the cubicle. The paraphernalia a for the evening and everything that he would need for a hasty journey were packed and ready. If all went well, the sun would find him free of the Guild and on the road north back to Ambrosia.

He crossed the courtyard quickly and soon was at the base of the library, grasping for his first handhold with a grip made familiar from much practice. In scarcely ten minutes he was at the top and through the curtains into the deserted council chamber.

Alodar lit his small candle as before, but this time did not move to the doorway in the center of the floor. Instead he carefully spread a silken scarf along the surface of the table and removed from his pack the small box which contained his treasure. He opened the lid and felt immediately the aura of power that coursed up from his fingertips to permeate his entire body.

He removed the scraps of parchment that contained his notes from the previous evenings of study. Everything he needed should be here; but if not, he could descend to the floor below and consult with the texts.

He scanned the notes twice quickly and then began the ritual. Placing copper rings on each of his fingers, he grasped a small incense coffer with his left hand and immersed it in the flame of his candle with his right. The perfume began to well upwards into the small confines of the room; in a minute, it was almost overpowering with its sweetness.

Alodar stood immobile as the smell penetrated his nostrils and filled his lungs. Concentrating not to cough, he counted heartbeats to one hundred thirty-seven and then struck a small triangle hung from a tiny frame with the copper ring on his index finger. The chime sounded shrilly and, rather than dying away, rang in resonance with the structure of the ritual as it began to take shape.

Alodar listened only half attentively as he pondered the step to perform next. But as he thought, he gradually grew aware of a slight tingling that crept along the base of his scalp. His skin prickled as if scraped by a dull razor and a slight twitch tugged at his left eye. At first it was only an annoyance to be shut out of his concentration, but the feeling grew in intensity and began to move over his head and down his neck to the rest of his body. He shuddered involuntarily and felt a chill in his arms and lees. The triangle still hummed, but rather than diminishing as it should, the tone deepened and grew in power. The heavy table began to hum, and echoes bounced back and forth off the sloping walls. Alodar raised his hands to his ears as the sound suddenly increased to deafening proportions and the small band of metal grew red hot from the force with which it vibrated through the air.

Something was obviously wrong. Alodar thought slowly, his mind dimmed by the fury of the noise. Some other ritual was being enacted and interfering with his magic here.

Before he could think more, the doorway in the floor suddenly flew open, bathing the chamber with light from the library below.

Lectonil leaped up into the council room, and two other magicians panted after. "As I suspected," he said, "Beliac's deceit with the Guild is most complete. Despite his protests, he traffics our secrets even to the neophytes who would support him.

"Bring them forward," he motioned to the black-robed followers. "Let Beliac bite on the fact that it is the ritual of presence that has led us to the last of his crew of traitors."

The shrieking stopped and Alodar felt his thoughts clear in a rush. He immediately dropped the triangle to the floor with a clatter and reached to scoop up his spheres.

"Hold, neophyte, it is enough," Lectonil commanded and clapped his gloved hands together. A bolt of jagged yellow jumped from his palms and shot towards Alodar with a blinding flash. Before Alodar could respond, he felt his arms thrift apart and backwards and his whole body suddenly lifted and slammed into the wall. As a sharp explosive report echoed around the small chamber, his breath rushed out and his vision clouded from the force of the blow.

"Trifle not with a master magician, neophyte." Lectonil glared at him. "Especially one with the gloves of thunder."

Alodar opened his mouth to speak; but before he could, Beliac's voice rumbled forth from the stairway.

"And to what purpose do you rouse me from my studies, Lectonil?" he asked. "The protocols must be observed, I insist. There is no basis for council meeting without the notice of two full days to bring all rituals in progress to a satisfactory halt. Your prattle about the danger to the remaining wyvern can surely wait a fortnight."

"It is for a far more serious matter than the safety of a dragon that we are here, Beliac," Lectonil replied. "We convene tonight to judge the most serious charge of treason. Look, we have even caught your neophyte in the practice of ritual. Such disregard for the traditions cannot be condoned, regardless of the ends you think they serve."

Beliac looked across the room to where Alodar lay and then stared at the two spheres still sitting in the small box on the table. "I know not in what foul practice this neophyte engages," he said, "but it is without my council or direction. I have had no discourse with him since he was in this chamber over a month ago. I say as you that he should be punished for his deeds. Bring forth the mirror of inversion and let us be done with it. His crime is none of mine."

"Ah, but it is, Beliac," Lectonil persisted. "I would not have acted so precipitously this night had I not first solved the riddle of that last meeting when your follower was present. Bring in the other one and let us confront them," he said turning to the doorway.

Duncan was abruptly pushed into the chamber, a look of bewilderment on his face. Following him came another black-robed magician.

"Fulmbar," Beliac said in surprise as his peer entered.

"Yes, Beliac," the magician replied with hate dripping from his voice. "With the aid of Lectonil's acolytes, I am free at last of your bondage of this past month. And I have told them all of your conduct the last time I sat in this chamber. It is true I would have voted against you that day, but in the past I supported you as the issue merited. And had you stood by the honor of the master, I might have followed your cause yet again. But your deeds with the neophyte have cleared my indecision and firmed my resolve. I anxiously await the council vote on the form of your de-elevation."

"But wait," Beliac interrupted, with a shade of panic beginning to tinge his voice. "I acted in the desperation of the moment and no ritual magic was used in what I did. A minor transgression worthy of small censure at the most."

"Enough of the pleading, Beliac." Lectonil waved the protest aside as the rest of the magicians began to file in. "The case against you is tight. Your neophyte was caught in mid-ritual, working your will. Tell us now what you had planned, else your punishment will be all the harder."

"But…" Beliac's eyes rapidly searched the faces of his peers for signs of sympathy. "I know nothing of the dabbling in which this neophyte engages."

"Very well, then," Lectonil said. "Perhaps the neophyte himself will not be so guarded. What do you say about your deed tonight?"

"I work with the pair of spheres before you," Alodar answered, as he slowly rose to his feet. "The one is smooth and the other circumscribed by one great circle."

The assembled magicians followed Alodar's extended hand to the table. "Could they be spheres of protection?" one of them gasped. "Most rare and valuable objects indeed. The work of an eon before they were truly formed and ready."

"By the laws, Beliac, this is most undisciplined! The uninitiated should not traffic with such potencies. He might start one to activate before he knows what he is doing."

"As for example, by striking a triangle of discord," Alodar said, holding out the small instrument he had used minutes before.

Lectonil's mouth dropped when he saw what was in Alodar's hand. He reached out to touch the first sphere and then quickly withdrew with an involuntary yelp.

"They have started," he said, eyes suddenly wide. "Quickly man, how long have you been at this? We must know how much time remains."

Alodar frowned in puzzlement over the magician's sudden concern. He reviewed the steps that remained and the significance of each.

"But of course," he said aloud at last. "The power within the spheres has already been disturbed from their mold. Either we run the spells to completion or they will explode of their own volition with cataclysmic force."

Several of the magicians broke their ranks behind Beliac and began to jostle one another for position in the doorway.

Lectonil retreated a step in hesitation and then called after the fleeing members of the guild.

"Wait," he said shakily. "We must stay and resolve what to do. We cannot abandon the spheres. Their release will damage our chambers beyond repair and perhaps our heritage below as well. The ritual must be worked to completion."

"Then stay and work it yourself," the magician closest to the door yelled out. "It is you who burns most with the fire to confront Beliac with his deeds."

Lectonil backed another step from the table, but then stopped.

"Hold your positions," he commanded with more composure. "We can handle the situation with but little danger to ourselves. Bring forward the acolyte. He should know enough to complete what must be done."

Two of Lectonil's followers thrust Duncan forward to face the master.

Lectonil's face parted in a cruel smile. "So you wish the status of the magician, do you, Duncan?" he asked. "Then you can show your proficiency to us by completing the ritual of Cantor on these spheres. Surely you have memorized what is to be done."

Duncan's eyes darted to Beliac and back to Lectonil. "I have studied it, master," he said. "But the events of this evening jumble my thoughts. I recall it not. I have had no time to prepare. Please, we know not how much time is left; let us flee."

"Then for you it will be the mirror," Lectonil cut him short. "Unless you search your memory and are successful in the recall."

"But I cannot," Duncan protested falling to his knees in frantic supplication.

"Each minute you waste is one less to complete what is to be done," Lectonil said harshly. "Be about it, man, or you doom yourself surely."

Duncan eyed the pack leaning next to where Alodar stood. With trembling hands, he opened the top flap and began to extract the necessary equipment.

"And the time?" Lectonil addressed Alodar again. "How long ago did you start?"

Alodar drew his tongue across a mouth suddenly dry as the impact of the situation sank in. "A full five minutes," he said. "At least that much before the wailing stopped me from going further."

"Quickly, the glasses." Lectonil gestured and one of the magicians opened a drawer in the table. "That leaves twenty remaining." He watched as a sandclock of the appropriate size was set beside Duncan.

"Now we proceed with caution as follows," Lectonil said "Repair to our chambers until the crisis is past. Guard Beliac until the issue here is resolved. I will remain on the stairwell, watching these two as they proceed. If all goes well, you can rejoin me here. If I judge that insufficient time remains, I will incapacitate them with the gloves of thunder and retreat out of harm's way before the explosion tears the apex asunder. In either case, we will deal with Beliac's treason then."

The magicians mumbled their acquiescence and began to file out of the chamber. Alodar's eyes jumped from Lectonil to Beliac and back, hoping to see an opportunity. Beliac also watched the magicians file out. Suddenly, when four were already on the stair, he bolted forward and shouldered his way in front of those remaining.

"Magicians loyal to the new ways, follow me," he shouted. "We are outnumbered, but they will feel our sting before we are done."

Lectonil turned to the startled black robes who remained. "After them," he shouted. "Subdue them and repair to the chambers as planned."

The magicians pounded down the stairs after the ones who fled. Lectonil looked at Duncan and Alodar and then backed down the stairs until he stood only waist high in the room. As he took his place, a blue flash reflected upwards through the opening, followed by a rolling boom and an anguished scream. In an instant, the walls rocked and vibrated with an answering spasm of subsonic rhythm.

"A gem of blue blindness and the oscillator of life," Lectonil muttered. "It seems that both sides armed themselves well for our confrontation. But no matter, acolyte, tend to your duty."

Another flash burst upwards. Duncan jarred loose from his panic and began to work the magic with the gear from Alodar's pack. With eyes half closed, he rattled off the next steps of the ritual and executed them quickly. The triangle Sang again, three beehive hitches were woven together, feet stomped in a complicated rhythm. Alodar watched fascinated as the acolyte, immersed in his recall, jerked his hands faster with each step, blurring them together in his haste.

As Duncan worked, the chamber rocked and rumbled with the attacks and parries that flew about the library below. Lectonil steadied himself in the stairwell and occasionally glanced down the spiral, frowning at the uncertainty of the outcome.

"And that is one," Duncan said explosively. As he spoke, he held out the uninscribed sphere triumphantly in his hand. The sphere was no longer opaque rock, but danced in a rainbow of refracted light that radiated through its interior. In the very center, Alodar saw a tiny and perfect human hand suspended.

"The shielding hand," Lectonil said, mounting again into the chamber. "Here, let me have it while you finish the other."

As Alodar saw Lectonil stretch his right hand forward, he sprang from the chamber wall and over the table into the magician's open arms. The force carried both to the floor. As they fell, Alodar grappled for the old man's hands to force them apart.

"Quickly, Duncan, quickly," he gasped. "Help me subdue him while I pin his arms. Then you can finish the other and we will be away before they return."

The floor rolled with another crash. Duncan hesitated and took one step around the periphery of the table, then paused. His face froze in renewed terror as he caught sight of the sand which yet remained to fall.

"Help me!" Alodar yelled. "There is no time to waste."

Duncan put his hand on the tabletop, but his eyes remained fixed on the falling sand. With a shudder, he suddenly turned and climbed up onto the windowsill from which Alodar had originally entered the room. In an instant he was gone, completed sphere in his pocket, climbing hand over hand down the face of the pyramid.

As Duncan fled, Alodar summoned new strength; with a powerful whirl, he spun Lectonil around striking his head with a crack against the floor. The magician remained silent, and Alodar scrambled to his feet.

He shielded his eyes from another flash and steadied himself from the rumble that followed. Almost half of the sand was gone.

There was still time to run. But if he did his entire quest would have been for nothing. He was no match for Duncan in rattling off the ritual by rote, but somehow he had to perform it on the second sphere.

He climbed back over the table and relit the incense; the ritual was begun. Alodar rang the triangle and this time it quieted at the proper time. Fumbling with his sketchy notes, he slowly began to lay out the twine on the table, covering and looping the strings in a way that would form a knot like a beehive. With the last tuck in place, he pulled the ends tight. The coils shrank into a lopsided triangle.

Steeling himself against the impulses that tried to make his hands shake, he undid the mess and again methodically went through the steps that formed the knot. He pulled the ends and the loops slid shut with beautiful symmetry. Encouraged, he began another and quickly laid a second by the first.

"The three knots define the plane in which the bees move to pollinate," he muttered to distract himself from his pounding heart as he began the third. "Three knots to form the plane to cleave the sphere." He stopped and hesitated. "Such a step makes sense for the first sphere, but what of the second with the fine line already dividing it in two?" Alodar frowned and concentrated on the lore which he had studied the past month. With the line already breaking the symmetry, the three points were redundant; they would lie in the plane already formed. He could proceed as before and the result would still be the immovable hand.

Alodar stopped completely and glanced up at the glass. If he continued, there was probably still enough time to complete the ritual as Duncan had done. A shielding hand in a sphere of protection was a king's ransom indeed. But the second sphere was different and somehow the ritual should be different as well. Perhaps a power far greater would be his if he acted with decision. But his notes would not help. He would have to get the reference from the library floor.

Alodar gauged the sand remaining and jumped over the table ft third time. The floor shook and another scream exploded up from the doorway. Four minutes, he thought. If he could be back in four minutes, then he would still have a chance.

He grabbed the balustrades with both hands and bounded downward, six steps at a time. He closed his eyes to slits to block out the bursts of light and ignored the bells which immediately began to chime. Against the brightness, he could just barely see the black robes dancing to and fro among the benches to dodge and launch their magical blows.

In one corner he saw gloves like Lectonil's clap together and a yellow bolt arch out to shatter soundlessly against some invisible barrier in the way. Beyond the transparent wall, two magicians huddled, rapidly working their craft. Elsewhere the black forms grappled arm to arm, ladders of energy streaking outward from the ring of one to strike the gemstone of another, fining the air with a sharp pungency from the discharge.

Alodar reached the floor without a challenge and quickly ran for the tier that contained the reference he needed.

"The neophyte," someone yelled behind him. He dove forward and rolled as the yellow flash lashed out over his head and hit the tier in front, ripping scrolls apart and sending small scraps fluttering to the floor. Alodar crawled to his left and overturned a table as a second bolt followed the first, crashing into the protesting beams he flung in the way. A moment passed and no third shaft came. Inching up on his knees, he saw his attackers facing another direction and warding off the thrust of a dagger which seemed to dart through the air of its own volition.

Alodar scrambled back to the tier and with both arms spread the jumble of manuscripts. His hand closed on a familiar form; and with a feeling of sudden triumph, he grasped the other handle of the scroll he sought.

He bounded to his feet and ran back to the staircase, ducking and dodging the blasts of magic power that came his way. He thrust the scroll into his belt and started up the incline, both hands pulling him forward. He circled around a third of the distance, not pausing to look back but thinking only of the sand that remained in the glass. Suddenly he tripped and lurched forward, shins banging against the steps ahead. He wriggled his feet frantically, but they remained steadfast to the step on which he had just landed.

"The all-holding glue of Deckadin," he heard above him and looked up to see Fulmbar slowly descending in his direction. "It is well I decided to take a vantage point up here," the magician said, "although I did not suspect to have my trap sprung so quickly."

The room rocked with another rumble and the stairs groaned in protest. Alodar's legs wrenched violently with the wave of power but he remained firmly rooted still.

"The sphere!" he yelled. "Release me so that I can finish the ritual, or we are all lost."

"I am a master magician, neophyte," Fulmbar snapped back. "I will not be guiled by a trick so transparent. Lectonil has the matter well in hand, else I would see him bolt down these stairs to signal us to safety. You will hold your position until I summon aid."

Before Alodar could speak again, Fulmbar's eyes suddenly widened and he threw his hands upwards. Alodar instinctively ducked and felt cold metal fly by and brush over his back. He looked forward to see Fulmbar suddenly enmeshed in a net of fine silver wire that clung to him tightly and pulled him down.

"The net of the perfect catch," Fulmbar shrieked as he tore at the mesh, while it propelled him stumbling down the stairwell. The magician lurched against Alodar and dug a hand into his arm as he stumbled past. Alodar was twisted around by the grip, and then pulled backward onto the hard steps as his feet remained firmly locked into place. Fulmbar continued down the stairs and Alodar felt nails cut deep as the grip slipped up his arm. Using his free hand, Alodar tore at the fingers which held him, grasping at a beaded bracelet around the magician's wrist. With a final scream, Fulmbar relinquished his hold and fell with a rush, bounding headfirst on each step as he went. The bracelet snapped in Alodar's fingers; simultaneously his boots popped free.

Another bolt of yellow sizzled up after Alodar as he rose to climb, but he paid it no heed. The building shook with the biggest explosion yet, and he saw a gaping hole torn in the north wall, creating a shower of brick and gleaming red stones.

His lungs heaving, Alodar reached the apex and closed and locked the heavy door in the floor. He looked quickly at the remaining sphere which now glowed red hot with a line of fiery yellow around it

He unrolled the scroll and began to scan rapidly down the contents. The entire ritual fitted into a fifth-order magic square, and the tying of knots occupied the center cell. Replacing the three knots by two changed the value from five to nineteen and the square no longer balanced its sums.

Alodar hurried over the bulk of the text which dealt with the shielding hand and its variations. Near the end of the roll he found what he wanted, a footnote on transforming the squares so that they became panmagic, summing the same on all diagonals as well as by row and column. Quickly he worked the equations to produce the four non-equivalent variations. The third was the one he sought; the first two elements were the same as the ritual he had started, but the rest were permuted and the central value was nineteen.

Alodar drew a deep breath and plunged into the ritual. He poured a ring of fine powder around the box containing the sphere, lit it in a flash of smoke, and nodded with satisfaction as the globe began to spin. He clapped his hands together thrice, then slammed the lid of the box shut, wincing from the burn to his fingertips. "Another knot next," he growled and began weaving together four short pieces of colored twine.

The steps followed one another rapidly and Alodar lost track of the time in his concentration to perform each one with precision. He would have no chance to go back and try again if all was not done correctly. Finally he approached the end and beat out the syncopated rhythm that had been third in the standard ritual. He lifted the small flute to his lips and started the slow count to thirty that would signify completion.

Now with only one step remaining, Alodar's eyes darted to the glass, to see the last of the sand begin its fall to the lower chamber. He filled his lungs to blow before the final particles hit but checked himself with the knowledge that it would do no good. The blast of the pure note must come when it was needed, not before.

Sweat broke out on his forehead as he watched the trickle slow and a hole grow in the smooth surface and begin to widen to the edge of the glass. Five counts to go, and the sand continued its relentless fall.

Only a layer seemingly one gram thick coated the neck of the tube; then, with one coordinated wave, it rolled downward through the opening. Four counts remained?three?two. Alodar grimaced from the expected impact of the explosion to come. Then, as the final grains hit the mound beneath, he blew a piercing note that filled the small chamber with sound.

The echoes faded quickly, and Alodar's shoulders slumped with relief in the silence. The ritual was perfectly and precisely completed. The power had been released and transformed. It would now last forever. Alodar waited a minute more in the luxury of the quietness; then he thrust the orb into his pack and scrambled up onto the window ledge. Seeing the product of his labor must wait; escape from the warring factions of the Guild had to come first.

In an instant he was clambering down the wall and across the esplanade, dodging between the initiates and acolytes who stood gaping at the pyramid as it roared and shook from the battle inside. Shortly thereafter, beyond the bounds of the Guild, Alodar looked backward through the protective distortion in the morning sunlight. Even through the shimmering, he could see a huge towering plume of flame where the library had once stood.

On the trail northward beyond the village, Alodar turned from the path and paused to catch his breath. He squinted back the way he had come but saw no dustcloud of pursuit. He reached in his pack for the sphere, now quite cold, and brought it to eye level. The opaque darkness was gone; in its place gleamed a sparkling transparency. But unlike the one Duncan had taken, the center of this sphere held a single eye, lidded closed. It was tiny, like the shielding hand, delicately sculptured with fine detail. Small wrinkles wove across the lid and minute spike-like hairs curled in a precise line along the bottom edge.

Alodar blinked in surprise and quickly spun the sphere around, looking for one of the magical symbols he had expected to see. He shook the orb violently, as if to rearrange the contents, but the closed eye did not change.

Duncan had escaped with a hand of protection, and what king would not give a treasure to be safe from any mortal blow? At the very least, Alodar had expected a magical object of equal value. But all he had to show for outwitting the safeguards of the Guild was yet another mystery. He was no nearer his rightful heritage or his true place in life than the day before the gates of Iron Fist slammed shut. In bitter disappointment, he thrust the sphere back into his pack and scowled at the ground.

He rested for a few minutes in silence, and then sat erect and looked up the trail. It would return him to Ambrosia. But what did he have to show the queen to turn her head from the others? A mere bauble that could have been fashioned by a jeweler. The eye did not even provide an imitation of magic. Nothing of what he had read in the library told of magical eyes, either closed or staring full open. Such a logo would be more appropriate to charm of the sorcerer than the impersonal ritual of the magician.

Alodar blinked at what he had just thought. He stopped and withdrew the sphere a second time from his pack. He brought it to eye level and stared, frowning into its interior. Surprised at what impulse directed his actions, he sat unmoving, concentrating on the tiny eye. For several minutes nothing happened; then he felt the weak tendrils of strange shadows rising from the depths of his mind.

His eyes blurred out of focus, and a hazy image formed in his thoughts. As if stroked by a gentle feather, fleeting snatches of a distant scene were pushed into place, and he saw a barren landscape, dominated by a single thrusting crag. Stunted and gnarled shrubs fought a strong wind to retain their meager leaves, and the sun hung low in the sky. Alodar felt himself drawn inside the huge monolith, into a tomblike cavern carved from the solid rock. In the very center was a coffin sealed with a thick glass lid.

The landscape was the same as that in the vision when he passed through the curtain. He gasped as the shock of recognition dissolved the scene, like a stone thrown into a reflecting pond. He looked quickly about and saw only the empty trail and the hills which contained the magicians' Guild.

Alodar struggled for several minutes more, but the feeling did not return. He lowered the sphere to his side and focused on the horizon. "Sorcery," he mused, "sorcery. Of the five arts it is the one concerned with expanding the limits of the mind to see in time and space. And what I just experienced can be related to nothing else."

He savored the sensations of the sphere while they were still fresh and then sprang to his feet. The disappointment of only a few moments before washed away in a wave of new enthusiasm. Well, why not? With only a piece of parchment he had plunged into alchemy; with two hunks of rock, he had braved the magicians' Guild. Perhaps in sorcery and with the eye, he would finally find what he sought. The quest would go on.