Mertyn nodded. “You say it. I might say it. Windlow, you, I know, would say it. Does the world say it? No. Pawns are pawns for the eating. That is what the world says.”
“I am in my own world,” said Himaggery. “You, Mertyn, may follow the outer world, but I will make my own. And the knowledge of what can be done with linkages must not come into Mandor’s hands. So. It is necessary that Great Game be called. He must be distracted from this obsession. If necessary, he must be destroyed.”
“And how will you mount Game against him? He is in his home place. Undoubtedly his battle ovens are erected, his fuel wagons running to and fro from dawn to dawn. You will be far from your home, far from this source of power. He will have an advantage.”
“I will have the advantage,” whispered Himaggery. “And I will use only a hundredth of it. If I were to use it all, the world could not stand against me.”
“ ‘Ware, Himaggery,” said Windlow, sternly. “‘Ware the demands of pride.”
“Oh, I am safe enough, old one. For now, at least.” He laughed, a little bitterly. “Though you may need to watch me in the future.”
Then it was that Himaggery, Windlow, and the King began their work. From all the surrounding area Gamesmen were summoned by Elators to attend upon the Bright Demesne. The Tragamors and Sorcerers who came were many, more than King Mertyn had ever seen in one place.
“Why Tragamors?” he asked. “I can understand Sorcerers, but most Games of this kind depend more heavily upon Armigers than upon Tragamors…”
“We will save Armigers when we need them,”
Himaggery replied in a grim voice. “But we do not need them here. They go toward Bannerwell even now, in small groups, within the forest. As do other Tragamors than those you see here and other Sorcerers, as well. Every one I have been able to recruit during the last decade.”
“I did not know your Demesne counted so many Gamesmen among its followers.”
“It were better that none knew, and well that as few were aware as possible. For that reason, we have had no panoply, no Gamely exercises. What we have learned to do, we have learned in private, and only those safe from the needs of pride have learned with us. It would take only one braggart in a Festival town to have given our secret to the world.”
“What is it you have learned?”
“You will see soon enough. It is easier to see than to explain. We have not yet had enough practice at any part of it. I have been at some pains to keep triflers and troublemakers far from this Demesne. Some, like Dazzle and Borold, two I tolerated out of affection for Silkhands, were sent away on errands of one kind or another if they insisted upon attaching themselves to me. Others I have sent on long journeys. Still, I have always had the fear we would be betrayed.”
“And where is Dazzle now?” asked Windlow.
“Gone; Gone after Silkhands, still seeking to do harm to her who would only have wished her well. I should have stopped her, should have…well. I was thinking of other things.”
And he went on thinking of other things, though not for long, for on that afternoon, the eighteenth of my captivity, an Elator arrived from Bannerwell to tell them that Silkhands had been taken prisoner after being denounced by Dazzle and Borold. And on the day after that, still another messenger arrived to say that Chance and Yarrel had fled from Bannerwell, but that Silkhands was still held there.
It was on that day that Himaggery’s legions began the march to Bannerwell, though it was like no march Mertyn had seen before. There was a monstrous wagon piled with many huge, curved shields of metal, polished to a mirror gleam. And there were all those Tragamors in the train. And the way was always starting and stopping, with a curved shield taken off the wagon each place the march stopped, each with a Sorcerer to attend it and at least two Tragamors, though in places there were three or even four. In each spot was a wait while the shield was “tested” while Mertyn fretted and old Windlow lay in his wagon, soft pillowed in quilts, watching the sky. This testing seemed to take eternities, and Mertyn grumbled and sweated, furious that Himaggery would not tell him what was being done.