Or possibly his prisoners. Their status had unquestionably been interrogated, because Azak was a prince of a land that the Impire was about to invade, and Inosolan still had a claim to Krasnegar, over which the Nordlanders were rattling their swords. She had even been questioned about Proconsul Yggingi and the way he had roused the goblins. Kadolan had never much cared for the seamy art of politics, and she felt that her present advanced age ought to excuse her from becoming involved in not just one but three possible wars. As she had told Eigaze, the only bright spot she could see was that no one could possibly blame her for the Dwanishian border dispute, as she had never met a dwarf in her life. Inosolan had told her glumly just to wait.
And, of course, that night she had indeed met a dwarf, or at least been in the presence of one. A warlock! So great an honor! Very few people ever knowingly met a sorcerer in their lives, let alone one of the Four. Yet, although she would never say so, had the young man in question not been sitting on a throne, Kadolan might easily have mistaken him for a surly young churl escaped from a workgang somewhere. Warlock Zinixo was sadly lacking in polish.
From the history lessons of her childhood until sorcery entered her life in the person of Queen Rasha, Kadolan had hardly spared a thought for the Four. Had she needed to think about them, she would likely have imagined four benevolent, elderly sages sitting around a table somewhere, probably wearing funny hats. Inosolan’s account of meeting Warlock Olybino had begun a revision in her thinking, and the dwarf had completed it.
The wardens were a sad disappointment!
She had thought yesterday hectic. Today had certainly been worse; up and down like a thresher’s wrist, all day long.
Having wakened to the memory that she was staying in the Opal Palace, she had then been sobered by the sight of peeling wallpaper and cracked plaster. Her room was not located in one of the more prestigious wings.
Breakfast had lifted her spirits—excellent food on magnificent silver plate, very well served.
Then Inosolan and Azak had joined her, and she had seen at once that Inosolan had some bad news to impart. Unfortunately Azak was quite the most suspicious man in Pandemia, and had been determined not to let Inosolan out of his sight, or hearing.
Right after breakfast, her day had brightened again as Eigaze arrived with four other old friends from Kinvale days. That had meant four more joyful reunions, although saddened perhaps by the awareness of time passed. Eigaze herself had once been graceful as an elf and thin as a willow. Now she had a son in the Praetorian Hussars taller than a pine tree, while she herself . . . well, who was Kadolan to criticize?
Up and down—Inosolan had dragged Kadolan away to go and visit the unfortunate Duke Angilki, and that had been a sad duty. The poor man had not moved an eyelash in two days, and the doctors were in their most somber mode. But the palace infirmary did have certain rooms where no man, even a sultan, was allowed to go, and those had probably been Inosolan’s objective all along. She had hauled Kadolan into the first one she saw, and there imparted her dread news.
Master Rap had visited her in the night. Kalkor was a sorcerer; the result of the duel between them was not preordained as the magic casement had suggested. They had been assuming that he would win the Reckoning and could then worry about staying away from goblins in future, but apparently that was not so. And finally Inosolan had described her efforts to share her word of power with Rap, and his discovery that she did not know one. Disaster!
They had been a doleful party when they drove out to the Campus Abnila to view the second Reckoning, and the unending rain had not helped to raise anyone’s spirits.
Up again . . . Despite his forebodings in the night, Master Rap had somehow found the occult strength he needed, and he had ended the notorious career of the infamous Kalkor very sharply. Kadolan had felt very pleased by that, even if the man had been a relative of sorts.
Down . . . The worst yet: Master Rap had lifted Azak’s curse. Kadolan blamed herself for that. For weeks she had tried so hard to explain to the lad that he was the subject of the God’s command and Inosolan’s destined mate. He had never quite admitted that he returned her love, but why else would he have followed her all the way to Zark? Obviously Kadolan’s entreaties had been inadequate, and the foolish boy had cleared the way for his rival to claim his unwilling bride.
She had always believed that honor was the finest attribute a man could possess, but now she saw that even honor could be carried too far. Excess was always on the side of the Evil.
And then he had also cured the old imperor! In some ways that had seemed like a wonderful blessing, and a most charitable thing to do, but it was very obviously a forbidden use of sorcery. At one stroke, Holindarn’s former stableboy had upset the whole political structure of the Impire.
That was when Kadolan had decided that this day was going to live in her memory as the worst she had ever known. Battered and bewildered by so many changes of fortune, she had given up trying to keep track, and had concentrated on merely remaining sane.
However, she had been careful to stay close to her niece. The sultan had been eyeing his wife with blatantly lustful glances, which Inosolan had been ignoring while cheerfully dragging Kadolan around the Opal Palace as if determined to view every one of its sculptures and innumerable points of interest in a few brief hours. Meanwhile the day had been drawing relentlessly to its close. Kadolan could hardly chaperon, a married woman in her bedchamber.
Since Master Rap had gone off with the imperor, there had been no word of him. His sorcery had cured the sultan’s curse, but it had left the Krasnegar situation unresolved. She had not been too surprised, therefore, when the regent had summoned them to the meeting with the wardens. That was not the sort of summons she enjoyed, but it had at least offered the possibility of some answers to some of the problems. Trying very hard to hold fast to her faith in the Gods, Kadolan had accompanied Inosolan and Azak to the Rotunda.
The start had been inauspicious—the regent in command, and no sign of the imperor. But then Emshandar had appeared, apparently in good health, and Rap still with him, like a court sorcerer. She had begun to think that her prayers might yet be answered.
Down again . . . With no warning, Rap had used very obvious sorcery to reveal the regent’s questionable tactics and displace him from the throne. Kadolan had watched in rising apprehension, while Inosolan’s fingernails dug into her hand. The boy was ignorant, of course; he had probably received no schooling at all, but she had come to know him a little during their journey from Arakkaran, and she knew he was well informed about the occult. How, therefore, could he possibly expect the wardens to allow such open use of sorcery around the Opal Throne itself?
But for a heart-stopping moment, it had seemed that the faun’s temerity had escaped notice. Visibly exhausted but yet jubilant, Emshandar had been about to end the meeting and send them all off to bed—that being one of the problems that had not been solved.
And then the wardens had come.
Disappointing . . . the Four were definitely not what Kadolan had expected. Warlock Lith’rian looked barely old enough to shave—although she had a vague idea that perhaps elves didn’t—and Warlock Zinixo still resembled an escaped quarry worker. Witch Bright Water was young and about as close to beautiful as a goblin could ever be. Warlock Olybino was the handsome young soldier Inosolan had described. None of them looked old, or especially benevolent.
Fair enough, appearances were unimportant. It was the way the Four behaved that really upset Kadolan. True, they granted Master Rap a trial. They did not follow normal courtroom procedure, for the judges called themselves as witnesses, but she supposed that was reasonable enough when the judges were omniscient. She could not disagree with the testimony, because she had witnessed the events herself. But thereafter justice seemed to go sadly awry. The dispassionate, disinterested guardians of her childhood lessons dissolved like mist.
The verdict was quite obviously skewed by political self-interest. Of course an elf and a dwarf could proverbially never be on the same side of anything, but Bright Water’s vote for acquittal seemed to have no logical explanation at all, unless it involved Master Rap dying horribly at the hands of the young goblin the witch had embraced so shamelessly.