coral grow warm in his hand. Lifting the eyelid, he took the round glass magnifier and examined the eye. All the damage had been repaired. However, he had promised them a magical orb in place of an eye, and it would take but a small spell to recolour the iris. Green would be pleasant, he thought. Holding the coral once more over Brune’s face he began to speak one of the Five Spells of Aveas: the Spell of Changing. As he was almost finished he heard footsteps outside the room, and the creak of the door opening. In a rush he finished the spell, his whispered words tumbling out. The heat of the coral surged in his hand.
Ardlin’s jaw dropped. Opening his hand, he stared down at the pink skin of his palm.
The coral had vanished.
It was impossible! There was enough power left to heal the wounds of twenty, perhaps thirty men. How could it have exhausted itself with such a simple transformation? He heard Tarantio speak, but was too stunned to understand the words. The swordsman repeated them.
‘Is he cured, magicker?’
‘What? Oh, yes.’ Ardlin lifted Brune’s eyelid. His right eye was now covered with a golden sheen, the pupil hidden beneath it. Ardlin was both surprised and relieved. How had he made the mistake? And would the young man be able to see? Sweat broke out on Ardlin’s face.
‘What is troubling you?’
‘What troubles me? You have witnessed the end to my career as a healer. I had a magic stone, but now it is used up, the power gone. Ten gold pieces!’ He gave a wry laugh and shook his head. ‘A man once paid a thousand pieces of gold to heal a crooked arm. It took less power than your friend’s eye.’ Ardlin sighed and fell silent as Tarantio counted out the coins and dropped them into his outstretched palm. ‘Tell me, swordsman,
why were you so confident that I would take such a paltry sum?’
‘Look around you, magicker,’ answered Tarantio. This grand house is empty of ornament. There are indentations in the rugs where furniture once stood. You are poorer than a blind beggar, and in no situation to haggle.’
‘Sadly true,’ admitted Ardlin. ‘But at such times is it not cruel to take advantage of a man’s misfortunes? The work I have done for your friend is worth far more than ten coins. He has the eye of an eagle now.’
‘Aye, maybe it is,’ admitted Tarantio. ‘But that was the bargain. And I have honoured it.’
Ardlin’s thin face sagged. ‘I need to get out of the city, Tarantio. These coins will book me passage on a ship from Loretheli. But I have no means to purchase a horse to get there. I beg you to reconsider. My life depends upon it.’
Brune awoke and sat up, blinking. ‘I can see everything,’ he cried happily. ‘Better than ever before!’ He moved to the window and stared at the trees outside. ‘I can see the leaves, one by one.’
‘That is good,’ said Tarantio. ‘Very good.’ Turning to the magicker, he stood for a moment in silence. Then his face relaxed and he smiled. ‘Go to the merchant, Lunder. Tell him I sent you. Tell him Tarantio says to supply you with funds for a good horse and supplies.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ardlin humbly. ‘In return, let me offer you this advice: Leave the city. It is doomed.’
‘The armies of Remark won’t lay siege to Corduin,’ said Tarantio. ‘Too costly.’
‘I am not talking about the wars of men, swordsman. The Daroth have returned.’
Karis, Capel and the boy, Goran, were led into the Duke’s private rooms. The ruler of Corduin looked older than
Karis remembered; his thin beard, closely shaved to his chin, was salt and pepper now, but his dark hooded eyes were as coldly alert and intelligent as ever. He sat on his high-backed chair, leaning forward, his slender arms resting on his knees as Capel gave his report. Then he turned his hawk eyes on Karis.
‘You saw all this?’ he asked her.
‘I did not see the attack on his men, nor the dark moon rising. But I saw the Daroth. He speaks the truth, my lord.’