But maybe—just maybe—one problem could solve another again.
He needed magic to get out of here. If not magic to walk the Wizard’s Way, then a burst of magic to attract the Watchers who stood guard over the whole of the World.
But it didn’t have to be a burst of his magic.
Wiz looked at the three spheres in his lap and a plan began to form in his mind.
Dzhir Kar rested his pink scarred forehead in his one good hand and ground his teeth in frustration.
The Sparrow had slipped through his grasp again. They had been within a hairsbreadth of him this time, he knew it. Yet that damnable little bird had fluttered through his clutches once more.
And now Seklos was gone. Seklos the tireless, the indefatigable. Seklos who hated this Sparrow almost as much as he did. Torn apart by something in the upper city while the entire contingent of the Dark League came running to his rescue.
That hadn’t been lost on the rest of his band. They had seen what had happened to Seklos and the sight had done nothing for their ardor in the search. Now most of them wanted to leave the City of Night and abandon the search. Only his overwhelming skill at magic and the loss of the natural leader of any opposition to him kept them here.
Still his demon lay coiled in an alcove of the chamber. Occasionally it would raise its head and the tendrils along its fanged mouth would quiver as the Sparrow considered using magic, but so far there was no magic from this most alien of wizards, nothing the demon could home in on.
It was enough, Dzhir Kar thought, to make a wizard cry.
Twenty : Forcing a Fight
Never give a sucker an even break.
—W. C. Fields
Especially not if he’s a big, mean sucker.
—the collected sayings of Wiz Zumwalt
Wiz tiptoed down the corridor, convinced that the sound of his heart must be giving him away at every beat. Over and over he repeated to himself the route out of this maze.
It was unfamiliar ground to him. This was the one part of the City of Night he had been striving to avoid ever since he was kidnapped. This was the path to the lair of the Dark League.
There were no guards and no sign of magic protecting this place, which only made Wiz more nervous.
Finally he turned a corner and saw a brightly lighted doorway not thirty feet ahead. There were two black robes standing in front of it talking. Through the open door he could see others moving around.
Wiz stepped back around the corner and for the first time in weeks, removed his cloak of invisibility. Taking one of Seklos’s fire globes in his hand he turned the corner again and, before the wizards could react, threw the ball straight at them.
His aim with the ball was no better than his aim with the rock. About two-thirds of the way down the corridor the ball broke against the wall and a sheet of flame erupted between him and the wizards. A lightning bolt lanced through the flames and struck near him. Wiz turned and ran with the shouts of the wizards ringing in his ear.
The tricky part is going to be making sure that everyone arrives when they are supposed to, he thought as he dodged down the corridor. Another bolt of lightning crashed into the stone behind Wiz, knocking off chips and tainting the air with the tang of ozone.
That and staying alive. Wiz ran faster and threw the tarncape around his shoulders.
“What was that?” Dzhir Kar roared, rising from his desk. From his place in an alcove off the workroom, Pryddian cringed back.
One of the wizards burst into the room, hair and beard singed and smoking holes in his robe. “Dread Master, the Sparrow has attacked us?”
“Then after him. After him! Everyone!” Dzhir Kar was hopping up and down in fury. “Catch him and bring him to me.”
The wizards piled out of the workroom in a rush. Dzhir Kar paused long enough to look over at his demon, still coiled with its eyes closed. He grasped his staff with his good hand and hobbled after his wizards.