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

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Final Battle

ALODAR panted up to the deserted firepit. Screams echoed across the valley, but he turned his back so that he could concentrate. He lit a fire and thrust the end of the exotic wire into the heat. Impatiently he waited for ignition.

Several minutes passed but, although the coil grew painfully hot, the silvery-gray luster did not change. "I expected as much," Alodar muttered to himself. "Despite his great prowess, Handar never worked with any substance that required more than an open flame. He did not consider that kindling the gateway to a demon prince would take a bit more effort."

He dropped the wire and quickly pushed some of the larger bricks, still warm to the touch, into the form of a crude anthanor. He stuffed kindling in its base, started a second blaze, and blew air through the chamber with a piece of hose until the stones glowed cherry red. Cautiously he inserted the end of the coil. Almost instantly, it ignited. Squinting at the intense spot of flame as it raced around the loops, he willed his adversary to come forth.

For an instant, nothing happened. Then the ground shook in a great spasm that crashed together the stones of the pit. The wind howled, and the sky grew suddenly dark. The air above his head exploded in a shower of imp light, and hundreds of shrieking voices bombarded his ears with sound. More devils burst forth with sizes and shapes that spanned the descriptions of the sagas. Spitting fire, roaring the wind, throwing sheets of hail and ice, and quaking the ground they shredded the elements.

Finally, with a flash of blinding light and a clap of thunder, a last figure stepped forth from the fire. Then all was quiet. Alodar stared with surprise. The form confronting him was not a stooped djinn or a towering hulk such as Balthazar. Barely his own height and with straw-pale hair pulled back over a smooth brow flecked with gold, the demon prince glowered through eyes half closed under long curving lashes. His face was thin and delicate with an upturned nose, thin lips, and ears barely pointed. Rather than the coarse and hairy nakedness of his kindred, he wore a flowing gown of deepest sea green which covered all his slender body except for the tips of his fingers. A prince of demonkind, Alodar thought, but without a close look he would pass for the ruler of some exotic and far-away realm of men.

"So you seek a prince of my kind," a voice tinkled from slightly parted lips. "Your folly only makes possible a little sooner what would be my pleasure in a short time to come." He waved one draped arm across the valley. "The end of the battle is but minutes away, and soon an entire mortal kingdom will be mine. With the name of Elezar on every being's lips, enough of my minions will come forth that the resistance to passage will vanish. Any of my kind then will journey freely between the realms."

Alodar braced himself as he tried to hold in focus the plan he had constructed the night before. He felt his face tighten into a grim mask, hiding the small kernel of self-doubt he harbored inside.

"Submit," he commanded with a throat suddenly dry. "Submit to him who ordered you forth."

Elezar threw back his head in a human gesture and his laugh jingled skyward. "Such impertinence and bluster! You mortals think that because the browbeating of a hapless imp or simple devil is successful, you are more than a match for any of our realm. Look at me. How closely do I resemble the lesser ones over which I hold sway? The ratio of their power to mine is no greater than that of a toad to yours."

"The relative strengths of our wills cannot be decided by words alone," Alodar said, "no matter how glibly spoken." He paused and then continued with a rush. "I have been chosen as the one to bring you to submission. Show me the reason that this is not so."

Elezar's finely penciled brows raised slightly. "The question is not who is the stronger. Only the means by which I will demonstrate it to you." He studied Alodar for a moment in silence. "No doubt you have met the mild annoyances of the lesser sprites. Tell me, if you can, how what they do compares to this?"

Three of Elezar's long fingers undulated in a complex gesture. Suddenly Alodar felt an itching rash break out on his back and spread over his limbs. Involuntarily he raked one hand across his thigh and reached frantically between his shoulder blades with the other. Down the small of his back he gouged, along both legs and across his chest. Wherever he touched, the itch seemed to increase with maddening intensity, driving his uncontrolled flailing into a frenzy.

For over two minutes, he spun about on the ground in a tight ball, kicking up dust. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the feeling slipped away.

"Or perhaps you have dealt with demons of fear," Elezar continued.

Alodar felt a paralyzing chill race down his spine. His chest muscles cramped and he gasped for breath. He looked up wide-eyed at Elezar and threw his hands across his face. Thoughts of searing thirst, smashed bone, and ragged lungs ripped from his chest flashed through his mind. Nothing mattered but escape. His intent, his reason for being there, his plan to cope, all vanished with a brain-numbing jolt. He tried to rise on wobbly legs, but the trembling muscles would not respond.

"And the strong emotions manipulated by my lesser minions are not the only ones for which I am your master." Elezar shrugged. "I can crumble you as well with ones more subtle, with gut-burning rushes of anxiety, the muscle-knotting barriers of frustration, the will-sapping blanket of despair."

Alodar tried to stop the swirl of his thoughts and bring them back under his control. Unlike the projections of the other imps and devils, the brutal force of Elezar's onslaught had raced through his mind undiminished by any feeble resistance he could offer. Like a scrap of paper in a storm, his will was blown about with no volition of its own. There was no way he or any other wizard could tope to stand for more than an instant against a prince of demons. It was foolish even to try. Alodar felt his spirits sag. With a trembling lip he choked out a sob.

It was a problem without solution, a task that could not be done. Alodar's head throbbed with the impossibility and the muscles of his neck strained in painful contractions. His left cheek began to twitch and his hand shook uncontrollably.

Alodar's stomach churned and his thoughts cut through his mind like a spray of stinging acid. Submission seemed a minor price to pay if it would end the uncertainty and give him even a moment of peace. Alodar lifted his eyes upwards and opened his mouth to speak.

The demon cut him off. "Even with those, it is hatchling's play. I choose to use instead the means that will give me the most satisfaction." He gestured a final time and Alodar felt the intense feelings evaporate away.

"You have tasted my might," Elezar continued, "and now know well what easily can be your lot if I choose to inflict it."

He stopped and parted his thin lips in a twisted smile. "I want your submission as a gift, freely given. Under no duress, with your thoughts completely your own. You mortals pride yourself on your logic, on how you can sort through the facts and conditions to the conclusion that is inescapable. In the end you will be mine, if you choose to resist or not. Is it not better to minimize the discomfort if the final result is the same? I will give you a few moments. I want your decision based on the cold light of your clearest reason. Contemplate it in the pavilion I erect for you here. In the meantime I will amuse myself with reports of the battle."

A momentary burst of light dazzled Alodar's eyes. When he could see again he found himself in a domelike cage. Iridescent struts crisscrossed and joined in a complex web that rose from the ground on all sides and met in a point over his head. He looked for Elezar and found him standing some five feet away, conversing in rasping tones with two hovering devils.

Alodar slumped to the ground. For a moment he sat in stunned silence. The validity of the demon's logic was overwhelming. There was no way for a wizard to struggle against him. Despite his slight form, Elezar could not be resisted.

Alodar blinked and sat upright. He pulled into focus dim outlines splattered about in his mind. He breathed deeply to steady himself and remembered the sketchy plan that the demon had so viciously dashed away.

Alodar grabbed at the two bars nearest and felt them yield to his touch, stretching like rubber away from his body. He changed his grip and forced the bars apart; but as he did, two adjacent ones contracted closer together. He could not enlarge the opening. He rose to a crouch and felt the pressure of the webbing on his back. Straining with his legs, he forced himself to a standing position, but no spar ripped or parted.

He withdrew a small knife from one of his pockets and vigorously sawed at the strut nearest. His eyes widened with surprise as the blade grated across a surface suddenly hard and unyielding. Even though it retained a soft and malleable texture under his hand, the line of contact with his knife seemed like the strongest steel.

Alodar turned slowly to examine the intricately woven net, frowning as he caught hints of a subtle symmetry. He pushed again with his knife and met inflexible resistance. When he extended a finger, the bar bowed gently to his touch. With his shoulder and head, he forced a deep bulge that crept back into place when he released the pressure. He turned the knifeblade on its side. Surprisingly, the flat edge caused the greatest indentation of all. Somehow the blunter the object, the more effect it had. But what could be flatter than a plane of steel?

Suddenly, like the ingredients of a complicated formula, all of the elements of what he must do coalesced together. He would have only one try, he thought excitedly, but nothing else offered even a glimmer of hope. He glanced at Elezar, still occupied with the demons. His pulse quickened as one of the hovering devils darted away. Hastily he patted at the many pockets of his tunic, throwing out vials, matches, string, a mirror, pebbles, twigs, scissors, and the other contents as he searched for what he needed.

Finally he found the piece of Aeriel's wishbone and formed the binding. Goosebumps raced along his arms and legs as he felt his body heat provide the energy for the connection. Slowly he removed the bone from his pocket and placed it on the ground. He looked across the valley at the swirling confusion on the slopes and Bandor's waving banners already on the opposite crestline. For a moment, he thought of Aeriel racing away from warriors in hot pursuit, or already thrust to the ground, but he pushed the possibility aside. He grabbed the bone like a knife and, with bold slashes, drew a summoning message in the soft ground. Across the valley, the other part of the bone would also be scratching the earth, copying his motions stroke for stroke. Twice he looked over his shoulder at Elezar's back and increased the speed with which he inscribed the words that explained what she must bring.

When he was done, Alodar studied the webbing carefully one final time. He found the junction he wanted and settled on his knees before it, trying to burn the position of the vertex into his mind. He closed his eyes and practiced hitting the exact spot with no clues to aid him. Over and over, with methodical repetition, he conditioned himself to perform the precise stroke. With each fleeting moment, the chance of finishing his preparations before having to face Elezar's awesome power diminished, but there was no other course to try.

Finally he heard a commotion down the slope and turned his head to see Aeriel struggling up the hill, batting away a small swarm of imps. Her clothing was torn and her face and arms swollen with many angry welts. She hobbled barefoot over the rough ground, the remnant of a boot top still tied about one leg and the last drops of bog solvent dripping into smoking rivulets on her skin.

Gasping for breath, Aeriel struggled upwards to the far edge of the firepit. One small devil flew from Elezar and yanked at her hair. She stumbled with exhaustion and fell. The prince turned to watch as she shakily propped herself on one arm. With a final effort, she tossed her dagger into Alodar's cage, collapsing a second time.

"A common blade will avail you nothing." Elezar said, drawing his attention back to Alodar. "The sharper the edge, the greater will be the resistance of my pavilion to it. And even if you were to break free, your legs could not propel you away so fast that my power could not follow. Now tell me of your decision. Am I not your master, the master of your will freely given? Or must I take it in exchange for pain and suffering?"

Alodar grabbed the dagger and it instantly molded itself into the contours of his hand. He ran his finger along the blade edge and felt the magically perfect flatness. Elezar raised his eyebrows expectantly, but Alodar ignored the question. Making sure he was back in position he began the charm.

"Answer me not with gibberish," Elezar snapped. "And do not trifle with my patience."

Alodar raced on through the three recitals, pushing aside the nausea and not contemplating the consequences. With a rush, he completed the last word and looked at himself in the small mirror at his side.

Instantly the world vanished. He was in total darkness and without sound. The sickness in his stomach, the residual aches from Elezar's bombardment, even the tactile sensation of kneeling on the ground, all were gone. As when Kelric had enchanted him with the eye, he was totally cut off from any stimulation from the outside.

Mentally Alodar sighed with relief. He had not been sure he could complete another enchantment, but the resistance was far less with himself rather than someone else as the subject. Apparently he still had his consciousness, even though he knew nothing of what went on around him.

He jerked his attention back to his task and visualized raising his hand to cut at the cage with the magic dagger. He felt nothing and had no way of knowing if he had hit the vertex at the precise spot but he had to assume that he did.

Next he imagined himself jumping upwards and crashing into Elezar. Mentally he wrapped his arms around the demon as they fell. Straining muscles that he could not feel, he crushed his arms towards his chest. At Handar's tower, even a demon had felt physical pain when cut. Now to see if a demon prince could also feel it. With unwavering persistence, Alodar focused on a picture of Elezar encased in his arms, with spindly ribs cracking one by one.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Alodar felt a sudden stabbing thrust into his bubble of blackness. Somehow, in a way he could not describe, his barrier thinned and retreated before a probing pressure. A portion of his wall paled from black to gray, and the beginnings of pain trickled inwards.

Alodar concentrated on controlling his senses. He increased the intensity with which he blocked them out. Pushing against the indentation, he halted the rush and forced it backwards. With a shove, he slammed it into the smooth wall of nothingness which surrounded him.

Another thrust followed and then another. Like an inverted sea urchin, the spines poked inward from all directions. Alodar felt the seed of doubt, the kernel of fear, the germ of indecision take root in his mind. For a moment, he faltered. Then he focused on the first and repelled it away. One by one, he expelled them all and reinforced the thickness of his protection.

Finally Alodar felt a uniform pressure on all sides. There was no hint of pain or distress, but instead a subtle discomfort, as if he were surrounded in a growing crowd. He braced himself against the squeeze and exerted his will to keep Elezar's influence away. But the pressure increased. With a shudder, his barrier constricted closer to his innermost being.

Alodar felt his pride pushed on top of his curiosity, his anger mingled with his need to succeed. His drives tumbled among his doubts and fears. The wrinkles of his personality collided as they were pressed by the uniform smoothness. He strained to expand the bubble, but the pressure waxed greater. The sphere contracted with a jerk, once and then twice again. The forces gathered momentum, hurling inward, imploding him towards a featureless smooth mind and then non-existence.

Alodar reached for intense feelings to counteract the thrust. He thought of Aeriel's blistered face and torn hair. He remembered Periac's mindless stare in Bardina's town square. He saw Quantos fall on the deck of the royal barge, the warriors on the walls of Iron Fist, and all the others who resisted the demonic forces which swept from the west and south.

The inrushing walls slowed their acceleration but still continued collapsing. His thoughts merged together and distorted into incomprehensible babbles. In desperation he recalled the events of his own quest, the humiliation with which it started, the pain, fatigue and frustrations he had borne along the way. He tasted again the decision to shoulder the burden that Handar gave him, the trap for his relationship with Aeriel no matter what the outcome. All of these feelings squeezed out of the recesses of his mind and flowed into the determination with which he strained. Mentally he gritted his teeth. With a wrench, he tightened his grip about Elezar. As his horizon of consciousness closed in, he willed his knees up onto the demon's chest and gouged them into Elezar's stomach.

One by one, the efforts added to his defenses. And with each thought, each memory purged from its hiding place, the onslaught slowed. But onward it came, shredding memories, flattening the essence of his being. Alodar felt parts of himself distort and then fade away. But as he shrank, he tenaciously locked onto one thought and held it precisely. He pictured his vice-like grip and the breaking of Elezar's body.

As the last hint of consciousness flickered, Alodar screamed his defiance, willing all his muscles to aid in a back-cracking snap. Like an arrow shot skyward, reaching the zenith of its trajectory, the inrushing forces decelerated against the dense kernel they labored to crack. At the very limit of Alodar's existence they coasted to a halt.

For a long time, nothing more happened. Compressed to near madness but holding to his one thought, Alodar resisted the weight which would crush him and strained his arms towards his chest.

Finally, after how long he could not tell, he felt a slight lessening of pressure. Then, with a sudden rush, the blackness ballooned to its original size. As quickly as it had vanished, his personality inflated to its former shape and size. He waited for another attack, but the limit of his bubble was quiet and still. He hesitated a while longer and then decided to act. Cautiously he opened a pinprick in the blanket, a tiny tunnel by which a whisper could reach him from the outside. For a moment there was silence. Then, in perfect clarity, a thought seeped through his screen.

"Please master, unhand me so that I may serve you," Elezar begged. "My body is broken and it will need repair."

Alodar struggled up on one arm, but Handar gently pushed him back down on the pallet. "Rest," the wizard said. "It all proceeds as you have commanded it. The lesser demons are being tracked by the greater and dispatched back whence they came. Your servant will ensure that they do not threaten us in like fashion again. And those subjugated, men and wizards alike are being restored to their former state. There is much confusion throughout the land, but I and the other freed wizards are spreading the word about what has happened. And the fair lady and the rest have survived it all, with no more than minor scratches and wounds."

Alodar nodded in understanding and slipped back into his painful and exhausted slumber.

"You recovered far faster from your wounds after Kelric's enchantment," Grengor said irritably as they slowly bumped along. "A month's lingering in the north while Vendora and the rest marched in triumph back into Ambrosia! You should know by now not to trust what she and the other suitors might do in your absence."

Alodar did not immediately reply, deep in his own thoughts. Like waves lashed by a storm, they crashed against the rocks of his innermost self. He looked at Handar, now freed from Balthazar's dominance, and across at Aeriel riding a pony at his side. She dropped her eyes and did not return his glance. He touched the proclamation which had come at last, fingering the thick seal and lines of signatures from the grateful subjects far and wide. He thought of his satisfaction in solving the riddles of Iron Fist and the Cycloid Guild, the self-esteem from having braved the Fumus Mountains and the sorcerer's eye, the pride in having Cedric's respect. He puzzled over how empty the glory seemed now that it was won.

"The summons explicitly stated that I was to travel when I felt ready," Alodar said. "And we broke camp as soon as the wizard's council was concluded. I am sure the fair lady had enough to keep her occupied in my absence."

"Without the persuasive presence of the archimage, I doubt if our agreement could have been forged in a year, let alone a month," Handar told Grengor. "Alodar properly saw his duty to serve his craft before the whim of a queen."

The wizard nodded and continued. "And the accordance was a good one. Elezar has agreed only to halt voluntary and coordinated transfer between the worlds. He cannot stop a summons by humankind, even if he wished to. As long as we possess the knowledge and means to reach through flame across the gulf which separates us, even without the ambitions of a prince, there will always be risk and potential for great peril.

"To submit to periodic examination by one's peers is a difficult step for men of my craft to take, but it gives us a chance to detect something amiss before it gets out of hand. It was Alodar's persistence and vivid retelling of how vast were Elezar's powers compared to our own that finally convinced us to establish the testing procedures. And with my awakened comrades and the most powerful who practice today in agreement, the lesser will follow. After these ceremonies in Ambrosia, whatever they may be, I will cross the isthmus to the south and carry the word further."

Grengor did not reply, and the four turned their horses from the muddy side street onto the cobblestoned avenue. Mentally Alodar pictured the screaming crowds, swirling streamers, and slow procession to the palace gates. He tried to recapture the exhilarating taste of so long ago: the vision of the royal guardsmen clearing the way; the brave lads darting from the side to touch the horse that bore him; the young girls batting their eyes as he passed; the chant that echoed from the walls in a deafening crescendo. Alodar the hero, Alodar the savior of the fair lady, Alodar of Procolon!

Alodar licked his lips and frowned at the dryness in his mouth. The image was as vivid as before, but the excitement which should accompany it was gone. As they approached the main boulevard, he reached across his saddle and squeezed Aeriel's hand.

They turned the corner, and the empty street rang with the clop of their horses' hooves. Alodar reined to a halt and looked about with puzzlement. He scanned the line of rooftops to the palace in the distance. Both skylines were deserted, as silent as the walkways underneath. Ambrosia was as unmoving as the quiet and open sea.

For several minutes, the three halted in silence. Then they heard the sound of horses other than their own, and Alodar saw four riders coming their way.

"Lord Festil, Feston, Basil, Duncan," Grengor exclaimed as the riders drew near. "Where is anyone else? Did not Melab's message of our coming reach the queen? Is not the reception and wedding ceremony prepared?"

"A wedding ceremony there was, indeed," Festil announced as he stopped before them. "But it was for that unclean nomad from the north. She rushed it through as soon as she felt she could. Only after it was done did Vendora send the summons demanded by her subjects. For three days now the entire city has wined on the palace grounds in celebration."

"Then my summons is for an empty honor and no more," Alodar said. He turned to Aeriel and smiled. "I am no longer honor bound. Grak is destined to be the victorious suitor, after all."

"You do well to cover your anger," Festil replied. "With low cunning, she conspired to satisfy a personal whim at the expense of the state. And the barbarian! Already his outland ways offend many who have upheld Procolon's proud tradition."

"Land for his kinsmen as reward for their defense of the fair lady," Feston growled. "Land held for centuries by the oldest of our noble houses and ripped away less than an hour after the crown of consort was on his head."

"Talk of new taxes," Basil muttered, "and hints of confiscation of my jewels as a national treasure. Every merchant on the street laments about how an outsider tramples on the delicate balance of factions which has supported the queen. And that stiff-necked Cedric has been made grand marshall of arms."

"He demands magic swords and shields in exchange for the right of the guilds to keep their gates sealed," Duncan cut in. "And room in the royal chambers for the objects, but not for those who would wield them. None of the magicians will stand for it long. With the right one to lead us, the barbarian soon will be deposed."

"Yes, the orbholder speaks truthfully," Festil agreed as he dismounted. Feston and the others followed. As Alodar watched, they knelt and placed their swords at his feet.

"There is doubt and suspicion still," Festil said. "Vendora's grip on the throne is little better than before. The demons have left us all untrusting. Only one stands out from the rest. Only one has the unblemished standard and reputation around which all can rally. Take up the banner, Alodar, and the peerage will follow."

"And the merchants also," Basil continued. "With my fortune and the promise of a return to the way things were, none on the streets will dare oppose you."

"The weapons of the guilds which Grak craves so," Duncan said. "They will be for our warriors instead. Lead us forth, Alodar. Take the last small step to finish what you have started."

"There is no other," Feston concluded. "With you at the lead, the rebellion will be short and swift. Even with Cedric and Grak to defend her, it can hardly last more than another year. And when we are done, you will be king and not consort. You can do with Vendora what you will."

Alodar sighed at the news. Wearily he looked down at the figures kneeling before him. He saw part of his dream, if not the whole. And with one more effort, the rest could be his. One more struggle. The humiliation of his father erased, the cheers of all lords and craftsmen, and bows and flattery any time he wanted them. He paused and glanced to the side. He could even choose Aeriel as his queen.

Alodar slowly exhaled and shook his head. What would he have when he was done? With the homage of a Festil, would there also be the offered sword of a Cedric? With a chest of Basil's jewels to bribe away resistance, would there also be the pride of a struggle hard fought and won? With Duncan's sphere to shield from assassins, what would he see in Aeriel's eyes?

The pomp of tradition, the intrigues of state, the fear of the shadow behind the next column?was it for these that he had cast aside the cape of the thaumaturge?

Alodar ran over the reasons for his quest but found they had melted away. Instead he tasted the excitement of the rising air carried, the smell of freshly ground duckweed, the beauty of a six-fold symmetry, the mystery of an out-reaching tendril of the mind, the wonder of what lay beyond the flame. He stared at the men awaiting his answer.

No, by the laws, it was not for this that he was meant, his thoughts thundered suddenly with determination. The quests were done; they were completed. There was no remaining adventure that now cried for a finish.

"Vendora's decision frees me of any further service," he shouted aloud. "I need pursue her no further. What concerns the lord and craftsman is no longer an affair of mine." He turned to Aeriel and spoke with rising excitement, "The consort has been chosen and your obligation is done," he said. "Aeriel, Aeriel, we have not lost the final battle after all. The way is clear for us to plot our future together. There are no more gauntlets to be run."

Aeriel started to smile back but then caught herself in mid-expression. Her brow wrinkled and she stiffened in the saddle. "It is well enough for you to exercise a second option, once the first is denied you. But despite how I may feel, the man who possesses my spirit will be the one who chooses me freely over all others, no matter how exalted they may be."

Alodar raised his eyebrows in surprise and then for a long moment was silent. He glanced at the kneeling men and back to Aeriel. "I pursued the queen to find the glory and honor it would bring," he said slowly. "And Handar stated that the first trek was but the shadow of another. But through it all, I was on a third quest as well, Aeriel, the one that all of us take, the quest to find oneself."

Alodar stopped and looked at each of those who faced him. "The man that I have found is not the one that you seek," he told them at last.

He turned to Grengor with a sad smile and gave him a salute. "Neither am I a warrior. You and the other marines have served me well, Grengor, but a far better future will be yours if you seek our Cedric, the grand marshall and place your trust under a proper master."

He turned to the wizard. "Continue your journey southward, Handar. Your task is far more important than any pomp and circumstance here."

Alodar looked back at Aeriel. "Through the random factors of fate, I am the makings of an archimage, the master of all five of the arts. Who knows what will happen when I am as proficient as Handar and the others intended me to be? And the answer to that riddle is my destiny.

"I still have the option, Aeriel. I believe what Festil and the others say. One more campaign and it would finally be over. But I choose to turn away from the queen, step aside from all the paths that I could follow to pursue what she represents. I elect to seek instead teachers of the arts. I will study with them all until I can rightfully call myself master. The beginning will be thaumaturgy under Periac in the north as quickly as I can find him." He stopped and breathed deeply. "And more than anything else, Aeriel, my choice is to have you at my side."

Aeriel's face softened but her eyes kept a hint of fire. "I have been a counselor of state, a molder of a kingdom's destiny," she said. "I do not intend to replace it with stoking dinner fires and beating clean the laundry."

"Come with me," Alodar said softly, "and we will journey on your quests as well as mine."

Aeriel finally smiled. She headed her horse around the way they had come. Alodar nodded and turned his mount to follow. Without looking back, they galloped away into the pages of the sagas.