As he had the previous night, Ylo sensed that the two sorcerers were speaking to each other by some occult means that he could not detect. It was irritating, and Lord Umpily’s scowl of frustration had deepened. The faun was now suggesting the dwarf repeat some of that private conversation aloud.
The dwarf scowled also, and tugged his rough beard. “Maybe. Something very odd began to happen about a year ago. The news got around. Magic sort of disappeared.”
King Rap nodded. “I rode in from northwest Julgistro, and detected almost none, the whole way.”
“It happened all over,” Raspnex agreed in his rough voice, ”and suddenly. Of course the Four have always pounced on free sorcerers when they found them, and set loyalty spells on them. Usually, though, it was a fairly benign rule—with a few exceptions, like my nephew, when he was a warlock. Old Bright Water had dozens of votaries, but for the most part she left them alone as soon as she had made sure they wouldn’t misbehave. It was a way of keeping the peace, really. Once in a while they would be required to perform a service, and of course they reported any news of importance. What Zinixo has been doing is a lot more active. He conscripts them, to aid him.”
“And the lesser talents?” the faun prompted.
“The same with them. A sorcerer is normally aware who in his area has power—mages, adepts, even one-word geniuses. Whether or not he interferes with them, he will know them. About the time North died, the free sorcerers sensed the problem, or told one another, and they all just spread the word to the juniors. Everyone went to ground.”
“Nobody told us, er, me,” Sagorn muttered.
“You were fortunate to escape detection,” the faun said solemnly. ”The fact that your house was shielded undoubtedly helped. But we conclude that there probably are a great many sorcerers still around, lying low. And lesser talents, also, of course.”
“If you can find them?” Acopulo said. “Exactly.”
“And, as the warlock pointed out,” Sagorn said, “Zinixo has a whole army of searchers, and there are only two of you. Or do you have some votaries left, your Omnipotence?”
The dwarf shot him a stony glare, like a mountain lining up a killer avalanche. “I do, but I have no way of reaching them. Except one.”
That confirmed Ylo’s suspicions about the Jarga woman. The old jotunn smiled grimly. “The other wardens must still have some, surely, but the same problem arises?”
Raspnex grunted agreement. “Warlock Lith’rian is in Ilrane?”
The dwarf sneered at this mention of elves. “All the yellow pretties are back in IIrane, and I’m sure they have the border sealed as tight as . . . as . . .”
“As a dwarf’s pockets,” the faun said.
“So where do we start?” Shandie demanded irritably.
The king pursed his lips and glanced at the warlock as if seeking agreement. ”With respect, Majesty, I prefer to sidetrack that question at the moment.”
Lord Umpily made a noise like a boiling pot. “Come, Sire! Either you trust us or you don’t!”
“Oh, I do trust you! I trust all of you—today. But tomorrow you may think differently. The same is true of everyone, including myself. So we shall not discuss tactics, not yet.”
Shandie was displeased. “Then the council of war is completed?”
“By no means!” The faun smiled and strode over to a chair. ”No tactics, but we can discuss strategy.” He settled himself and stretched out at ease. The dwarf left the window, waddling to a bench, and some of the tension and anger seemed to seep out of the meeting.
“Our first requirement,” Rap said, “is information. We need a set of ears and eyes in Hub.”
He was calling for a volunteer. The room stilled, and there was no sound except the quiet creaking of the ship and the drip of melting snow on the roof.
Shandie frowned. “How could such a person report?”
“There is a way,” the faun said. “This ship is shielded, you understand, which is why we have escaped detection. We can’t escape any farther in it—I am sure the mouth of the Ambly is being well watched. But we can use sorcery on board. The warlock made breakfast, for example, and arranged for you all to keep it where it belongs. He has also crafted a device called a magic scroll. It is a very minor sorcery, and will enable our spy to send reports with very little risk of detection, and no chance of betraying our whereabouts.”
Shandie turned and looked at Lord Umpily. Everyone looked at Lord Umpily.
The fat man shied like a startled horse. “Wh-what’s involved?”
“Just go home,” the king said. “Listen, and observe. And report. At worst, you will be converted to a Zinixo supporter, but that will not upset you, once it has happened. There is no physical danger that I can see.”
“B-b-but then they will ask me where you are!” The chief of protocol was understandably pale.
“There will be no torture,” the faun said. “You will willingly tell them all you know. So you must not know where we are, obviously. Nothing personal.”
“I will not order any man to do this!” Shandie snapped. ”No,” the king said, “it must be voluntary. If you agree,. though, my lord, then we shall put you aboard one of those fishing boats. You will make your own way back to Hub, and discover as much as you can about the present state of affairs in the capital. That is all.”
Umpily licked his lips and nodded to Shandie. “If that is how I may best serve you, your Majesty.”
“It may be.” The imperor sounded doubtful.
“Good!” the king said cheerfully, as if everything was decided. ”There is another matter we must discuss, and it is no secret. Indeed, we must strive to advertise our purpose as widely as possible! Warlock Raspnex and Sailor Jarga and myself . . . Doctor Sagorn. You have three sorcerers and one genius, Sire. Zinixo has hundreds! Possibly Lith’rian and the other wardens can be inspired to come out of hiding and aid us, or perhaps not. If those were mundane odds, how would you rate your chances?”
“Hopeless!” Shandie said sharply.
“And if force will not work, what else remains?” The faun was making a guessing game out of the problem. Frowning, the imperor looked to his advisors.
Ylo’s stomach rumbled loudly. No one paid any attention. “Diplomacy is out of the question?” Umpily muttered. “Completely.” King Rap sighed. “You cannot negotiate with a craven despot. You could never trust him and he would never trust you. He does not even trust himself !”
Acopulo shot a suspicious glance at Sagorn and said, “Subversion, then?”
The dwarf rumbled impatiently. “A votary cannot be bribed—occult loyalty is absolute! If we can catch one alone and can bring greater power to bear, then yes, we can turn him, but that is the same as using force, isn’t it?”
“The same odds,” Shandie agreed, staring impassively at the faun’s quiet amusement. “Hunt down the noncombatant sorcerers, then? The free ones you mentioned?”
“But Zinixo has been doing that for years and has vastly greater resources to continue doing so,” the faun said blandly. “Do you see? Our cause is hopeless unless we can find another weapon! We need something that Zinixo does not have!”
Sprawled in the big chair, Sagorn had bared yellow teeth in his gruesome smile. “Bribery?”
“You can’t bribe a votary!” Acopulo protested.
“No,” the jotunn said complacently. “But you can bribe civilians to enlist.” His pale eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “He has it!” The faun chuckled. “Listen! In straight contest we cannot outdo Zinixo’s press gang, because we are hopelessly outnumbered. The Covin will catch a dozen for every one we catch. But we may be able to coax the free sorcerers out of hiding and persuade them to aid your cause voluntarily.”
Shandie leaned back and stared at him for a while, and no one else interrupted. ”How?” he asked eventually. “What do I have that I can offer?”
Nothing, Ylo thought. No mundane could ever offer anything a sorcerer could need. But obviously there must be something. He was annoyed that the big rustic faun had seen something he could not. Acopulo was scarlet with frustration and Umpily almost as bad.
“Freedom,” Rap said. “And security.”
“Safety from Zinixo? Restore the Protocol, you mean?”
The faun shook his head. He glanced briefly at the dwarf, as if seeking consent to continue. “That’s not good enough, Shandie. We’re not going to restore the Protocol! Raspnex and I have talked it over, and we’ve decided that Emine’s Protocol has failed. It served the world and the Impire well for three thousand years, but now it’s dead. So we’re going to make a new one, a better one. Emshandar’s Protocol, we’ll call it. We’ll write it, and if you want your impire back, you’ll sign it.”