A Muddle of Magic. Alexandra Rushe

her reluctance to intrude upon the high one’s affairs and her fear of the skaldiff’s cane. She would stay, she decided after an agony of uncertainty. The high one had not dismissed her and might desire refreshment. Naadra had stressed the importance of showing proper deference and an eagerness to please. Seratha found the prospect of attending her master simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. She straightened her spine. She would serve Zared, and gladly. The Durngesi, too, she conceded with less pleasure, at her master’s behest.

      The High Seer had resumed his post at the window, his face to the sea. Slowly, deliberately, he turned. Despite her agitation and uncertainty, a thrill shot through Seratha. This was her master, whom she gladly served, this towering, splendid man of the shining locks and fierce brow. Superior in every way to the Durngesi with his dusty boots and skin cloak, she thought, regarding Zared with breathless admiration.

      She tensed, ready to fly should he indicate disapproval at her continued presence, but he spared her not so much as a glance.

      His frowning gaze was on the Durngesi’s daggers. “What is this? How dare you come into my presence armed.”

      “I did not think it necessary to relinquish my knives, as I wore them when last we spoke,” the Durngesi said, seemingly unmoved by the seer’s ire. “But, now I think on it, our previous meeting was at night, was it not? Doubtless, you did not notice my steel in the gloom.”

      “Doubtless I did not, else I would have insisted you leave your weapons at the door.”

      “Very well. As I offend, I shall go.”

      “Wait,” Zared said as the Durngesi strode for the door. “Keep your knives, then. But in future know this. The seers of Shadow Mount fortify themselves with knowledge, not the brutal weapons of man.”

      “Indeed?” The Durngesi turned to face Zared once more. “And, yet, you tortured one of your own…and rather brutally, or so I am told.”

      From the shadows, Seratha saw Zared’s face darken in anger. She kept perfectly still, frightened and intrigued by the unfolding drama and the tension that crackled between the two men.

      “You speak of Glory?” The High Seer waved a hand in dismissal. “She betrayed her vows and was punished accordingly. I cannot expect an outsider to understand.”

      “I understand many things,” the Durngesi said softly. “I understand that she served the Circle loyally for more than a thousand years. I understand you maimed her most cruelly. I understand that none of the gentle, peace-loving disciples who served beside her offered her aid, or protested her mistreatment.”

      “She betrayed us. Glory should rejoice that I let her live.”

      “Rejoice at being blinded?” Something ugly gleamed in the Durngesi’s eyes and was gone. “But why do we banter? That which you seek has been found.”

      “You have located the god stone?” Zared stepped closer, his expression eager. “This is excellent news. I trust you told no one of our arrangement?”

      “Once a seeker accepts a task, his loyalty is to the taskmaster and the taskmaster alone…until the task is accomplished.”

      Removing a leather pouch from his belt, the Durngesi tossed it onto the table by the fire. The High Seer crossed the room in two strides and snatched it up. With shaking hands, he fumbled at the laces and upended the bag. A brilliant jewel dropped onto his palm. Seratha inhaled, amazed at the gem’s transcendent glow.

      Zared’s long fingers closed around the shining treasure. “Mine,” he whispered. “Despair, Glonoff. Behold me and tremble.”

      “I take it you are pleased?” the Durngesi drawled.

      “Yes, yes.” Zared’s glittering gaze shifted from the jewel to the Durngesi. “You have done well.”

      “I am gratified.” The Durngesi inclined his head. “My recompense?”

      “Of course. You have earned it and more.” Striding to a chest beneath a window, Zared opened it and took out a bulging pouch. “Five hundred magraks, as promised.”

      Seratha’s eyes widened. Five hundred magraks was a fortune in Shaddish gold.

      “Keep your money,” the Durngesi said. “I ask instead that you release the novice Seratha.”

      “What?” Seratha forgot her proper place and rushed into the room. “We are not of the same tribe. You have no right.”

      “You are mistaken.” The Durngesi’s tone was gentle. “Open your eyes, child.”

      Seratha looked at him closely and felt the blood drain from her cheeks. The drekalli hide he wore shifted and blurred and became a dog skin. Two metal clasps, each bearing the likeness of a pair of running hounds, held the garment around his broad shoulders. The rumors were true, then. Delcan Eldurn had joined the Great Hunt and the Durngesi had chosen a new trivan. Such news had reached even Shadow Mount.

      “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t care. I won’t go with you.” Seratha threw herself at Zared’s feet. “Do not send me away, High One, I beg you. I am yours.”

      Zared frowned down at her, as though seeing her for the first time. “She has taken the vow. Only death or dishonor can release her.”

      “She is still a novitiate. She has yet to take her final vows. Give her to me.”

      “Take her, then, if you want her so badly,” Zared said, twitching the hem of his robe from her grasp. “She is nothing to me.”

      “Master.” Seratha lifted her tear-streaked face to the High Seer. “Please. Do not send me away.”

      The Durngesi went to her and helped her to her feet. “Cease your wailing, child,” he said. “This one is not worth the salt in your tears.”

      “Yes, he is,” Seratha wailed and covered her face with her hands. “He is a great man, the High Seer of Shadow Mount.”

      “Zared has betrayed the Circle,” the Durngesi said calmly. “He has been selling prophecies—and to the Dark Wizard, no less, judging from the Shad Amaran gold in his hoard.”

      Seratha dropped her hands to stare at Zared in shock. “But that is forbidden. The visions are a gift, a boon not even the gods are granted. They are not ours to barter.”

      “So young and naive,” Zared said, giving her a pitying smile. “I was once like you, before I met Glonoff. Do you know the birthright of a seer, child? A few, brief years lived in squalor. Underfed, unrewarded and unrecognized, while lesser men live as kings.” His hand clenched around the jewel. “Glonoff showed me the truth, showed me how well and truly I have been cheated. Is it fair, I ask you, that wizards like Glonoff wield magic and live on, century upon passing century, while we—while I—wither and die?”

      “Yours was the choice to join the Circle,” the Durngesi pointed out. “No one compelled you.”

      “The starry-eyed delusions of youth, but, as the years passed, I found the reality unbearably dreary.” Zared’s long fingers stroked the gem. “But this changes everything.”

      “A god stone is a mighty thing. What will you do with it?”

      “I weary of half-glimpsed visions and fleeting dreams. I want power, more power than any wizard. I would be omniscient.”

      “Ah,” the Durngesi murmured. “I thought it might be something of the sort.”

      Zared frowned at him. “You puzzle me, seeker. To have a thing such as this”—he held up the jewel—“and cede it without a fight, I cannot understand.”

      The Durngesi shrugged. “I am a simple man. I am content to bear witness to your inheritance.”

      Zared’s eyes widened. “You would be my herald?”

      “All shall hear of your triumph, I promise.”

      “That