“I’ll go along with your judgment,” I said. “Mandor, did you hear all that?”
“Yes,” he replied softly. “I’ll do as she says.”
Then, “What happens if I destroy the Fount itself?” he asked Jasra.
“I don’t believe it can be done,” she answered.
He snorted, and I could see the dangerous lines along which his thoughts were running.
“Humor me and suppose,” he said.
She was silent for a time, then, “If you were able to shut it down; even for a little while,” she offered, “the citadel would probably fall. I’ve been using its emanations to help hold this place up. It’s old, and I never got around to buttressing it where it needs it. The amount of energy required to attack the Fount successfully, though, would be much better invested elsewhere.”
“Thanks,” he said.
She halted, extending a hand into one of the lines of force and closing her eyes as if she were taking a pulse. “Very strong,” she said a little later. “Someone is tapping it at deep levels now.”
She began moving again. The light at the end of the hallway grew brighter, then dimmer, brighter, dimmer. The shadows retreated and flowed back repeatedly as this occurred. I became aware of a sound something like the humming of high wires. There was also an intermittent crackling noise coming from that direction. I increased my pace as Jasra began to hurry. At about that time there came a sound of laughter from up ahead. Frakir tightened upon my wrist. Flakes of fire flashed past the corridor’s mouth.
“Damn, damn, damn,” I heard Jasra saying.
She raised her hand as we came into sight of the landing where Mask had stood at the time of our encounter. I halted as she moved very slowly, approaching the railing. There were stairs both to the right and the left, leading downward to opposite sides of the chamber.
She looked down for only an instant; then she threw herself back and to the right, rolling when she hit the floor. Taking out a piece of railing, a ball of orange flame fled upward like a slow comet, passing through the area she had just quitted. I rushed to her side, slipped an arm beneath her shoulders, began to raise her.
I felt her stiffen, as her head jerked slightly to the left. Somehow, I already knew what I would see when I turned that way.
Jurt stood there, stark naked save for his eye patch, glowing, smiling, a pulse away from substantiality.
“Good of you to drop by, brother,” he said. “Sorry you can’t stay.”
Sparks danced at his fingertips as he swung his arm ip my direction. I doubted that shaking hands was foremost; in his mind.
The only response I could think of was, “Your shoelace is untied,” which of course didn’t stop him, but it actually had him looking puzzled for a second or two.
CHAPTER 12
Jurt had never played football. I do not believe he expected me to come up fast and rush him; and when it happened, I don’t think he anticipated my coming in as low as I did.
And as for clipping him just above the knees and knocking him back through the opening in the railing, I’m sure he was surprised. At least he looked surprised as he went over backward and plummeted, sparks still dancing at his fingertips.
I heard Jasra chuckle, even as he faded in mid-fall and vanished before the floor got to spread him around a bit. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw her rise.
“I’ll deal with him now,” she said, and, “No problem. He’s clumsy,” even as he appeared at the head of the stair to her right. “You take care of Mask!”
Mask was on the opposite side of the black stone fountain, staring up at me through an orange and red geyser of flames. Below, in the basin, the fires rippled yellow and white. When he scooped up a handful and worked them together as a child might shape a snowball, they became an incandescent blue. Then he threw it at me.
I sent it past with a simple parry. This was not Art, it was basic energy work. But it served as a reminder, even as I saw Jasra perform the preliminary gestures to a dangerous spell purely as a feint, bringing her near enough to Jurt to trip him, pushing him backward down the stair.