to the prisoner on one of his later visits.
Nerenyi Daral had warned him that the Archimage of the Firmament would know instantly if anyone attempted to use the viaduct. And then Denby would either lock it or bid it convey the prisoner to some ghastly new place of captivity. Only if the Dark Man were killed or disabled would the passage lead to freedom.
A tiny glass container in Nerenyi’s hand had been her third gift. Sheer happenstance had finally drawn the thing to his attention two days ago and caused him to ask what it contained. When he found out about the poison, he began at once to plan his escape.
‘I am ready to go now,’ he told her. ‘Star Lady, I beseech you to open the world-viaduct for me.’
Do you swear on the Star to recreate my Guild and carry out its great purpose, restoring the balance of the world?
He grasped his medallion with one gloved hand. His fingers were losing sensation and the deadly cold was fast penetrating the cloak as well.
‘I do swear,’ he said.
Then take my own Star, dear adopted son and heir, and give it to one in whom you place your utmost trust. With the help of the reborn Guild, reclaim the Sceptre of Power. It is still capable of banishing the Conquering Ice. Learn to control its perilous faculties and let the Sky Trillium shine again.
Reverently, he detached her dead fingers from the medallion, lifted the jewelled chain and pendant from her neck, and put it into his sack. ‘I will do as you command … But now, Lady, I beg you to let me go forth, else I will surely freeze to death on the brink of freedom.’
Go. Viaduct system activate!
A crystalline musical chime rang out and an upstanding ring of light about two ells in diameter sprang into existence to the left of the dead woman’s chair. Within it was an area of featureless black from which a musty warm wind flowed.
‘Is the viaduct ready to transport me?’
Yes. All you need do is enter. Once it would have led only to the domain of the Conquering Ice, and so it was useless to me. I came here through it, hut I could not use it to escape. But in these latter days, when the Sempiternal Icecap is temporarily diminished, the viaduct will debouch in a safe place.
He hesitated. ‘May I ask where in the world I will emerge?’
The Star-Voice was stern. You will go where you are sent, and there you must begin immediately to carry out your mission. Quickly! Denby is about to awake. He will be at the door in a moment.
‘Then, Lady, goodbye!’
Holding tight to the sack, he stepped into the glowing ring and vanished. There was a second bell-like sound and the circle winked out. The remnants of the prisoner’s last breath, clouds of minute ice crystals, swirled in the frigid air around the enthroned dead body.
The door of the chamber swung open. The four sindona sentinels marched in, their golden skulls held at the ready. Shuffling after them came a very old man with dark skin and frizzled snow-white hair. He was enveloped in a mantle of golden worram fur.
‘Orogastus!’ he called. His voice was strong and resonant and might have belonged to a much younger man. ‘Are you still here?’
He has departed, one of the sentinels said.
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Denby Varcour. ‘Now we can get on with saving the world – if it can be saved! A pity he didn’t finish me off, but I might have known I’d have to see the thing through to the end.’ He flapped one hand at the sindona, ordering them back out into the corridor, then went and stood before the frozen corpse.
‘Forgive me, my beloved Nerenyi. It was too good an opportunity to miss. I could not let it be too easy for him, you see.’
As always, her tranquil features smiled.
Prince Tolivar lay there in the dark, fully clothed except for his boots, trying desperately not to fall asleep.
He had not dared to leave the silver oil lamps or even a candle lit, for fear someone would see the light shining beneath the door. The only illumination in the chamber came from fitful lightning flashes through the window, and from the clock on the stand beside his bed, an artifact of the Vanished Ones with a face that glowed softly green. It had been a gift on his last nameday from his Aunt Kadiya, the Lady of the Eyes. She was the only one in the world – aside from good old Ralabun – who did not despise him.
Some day he would show them all, especially his hateful elder brother and sister, Crown Prince Nikalon and Princess Janeel. The time would come when they would no longer tease him and call him a useless second prince. They would fear him instead and grant him the respect he deserved!
If he got his treasure back …
Lying there, Tolivar gritted his teeth and willed that the slow-crawling minutes go faster. Ralabun would not come until two hours after midnight – if he came at all. ‘He must come!’ the Prince whispered to himself. But he had not dared to tell Ralabun why he was needed, and the old creature might have dismissed the unusual summons as a boyish whim. He might forget to come, or even fall asleep waiting. Tolivar himself was having great trouble keeping his eyes from closing.
‘Holy Flower, don’t let me nod off,’ he prayed. He was already badly frightened at the prospect of what lay ahead. If he slept – and the awful dream came again – he might be tempted to give it up.
It probably had been foolish of him to hide the treasure out in the Mazy Mire, but the stratagem had seemed necessary. Ruwenda Citadel’s ancient stones were themselves permeated with magic, and sacred Black Trillium blossoms bloomed everywhere now on the knoll, thriving beneath the light of the Three Moons. Worst of all, his other aunt – the formidable Archimage Haramis – had taken to visiting his mother too often here in the Summer Capital, which was their childhood home. Tolivar could not risk the White Lady discovering his secret, so he had found a place away in the swamp to hide the precious things.
No one would take them from him. Not ever.
‘They are mine by right of salvage,’ he reassured himself. ‘Even if I am only twelve years old and still unable to make use of them fully, I will die rather than give them up.’
The unwelcome thought stole again into his mind that he might very well perish tonight, drowned in the surging black river.
‘Then so be it,’ he muttered, ‘for if I leave the treasure behind in Ruwenda during the rains, it might be swept away in a great tempest. Or it could be buried in mud before we return next spring, or even found by some stray Oddling and handed over to the White Lady. Then I would have nothing to live for.’
If only the Wet Time had not come so inconveniently early this year!
But Aunt Haramis had said that the world was badly out of balance, and the strange weather reflected it, as did the restlessness of the volcanoes and the increasing number of earthquakes.
The River Mutar that skirted Citadel Knoll had surged to flood stage almost without warning. King Antar and Queen Anigel had decided that the Court of the Two Thrones dared not wait until the end of the month to adjourn to the Winter Capital of Derorguila in Labornok. Instead, the royal entourage must depart within six days, before the mire waters rose too high.
Prince Tolivar, the youngest of the royal family, had reacted to the announcement with panic. So long as the storms continued, the Mutar’s current would be too strong for him to paddle upstream alone in the skiff he kept hidden for his secret excursions. He had prayed both to the Holy Flower and to the Dark Powers who aided wizards, begging for just a few dry days and a respite in the flood. But the entreaties were in vain. The time of the royal retinue’s departure drew closer and closer until now there were only two days left. Tomorrow the caravan would begin to form. In daylight