be. But if – if it’s what you want, I’ll leave after saying what I must.’ Her eyes overflowed.
He took her in his arms. ‘Duna, Duna, don’t cry. I had to go away. It was the only way to keep you and Maris safe from Ironcrown’s evil minions.’
‘I know.’ She wiped her face on her sleeve and sat up straighter.’ ‘And here is the Source’s message. Make of it what you will. He asks that you return to High Blenholme with the utmost speed and stealth, using the Subtle Gateway sigil. You must go to Castle Morass in Didion and there take counsel of your – your twice-great-grandmother, after which you are to present yourself to the Sovereign of Blenholme and offer to serve and guide him as Royal Intelligencer once again.’
For a moment Deveron was rendered speechless. Then: ‘It’s a cosmic joke! One of those tricks the cursèd Beaconfolk are so fond of. What is the Source, save one of them? A renegade Light who now thinks to send me to my doom to serve some dark purpose –’
She touched his mouth with her free hand, cutting off the tirade. ‘Nay! Not so, love. He told me you would be welcomed. That your special services are sorely needed. That the New Conflict now enters its final critical stages, and its outcome depends upon the defeat of the Salka as well as the evil Lights who empower them. You can help bring that about.’
He drew away from her with a violent motion and rose to his feet. ‘I know almost nothing of the political situation on the island nowadays, save for the fragments of news that reach Mikk-Town and are gossiped about by my clients. Throughout this exile, I’ve deliberately avoided any attempt at scrying Conrig’s court – not that it would have been easy, from this great distance. I didn’t want to know what was happening in Blenholme. I still don’t want to know!’
‘Would you allow the island of your birth and all the human folk living there to fall prey to the Salka?’
He said nothing, turning his back to her and staring at the canal. His loud outburst had silenced the calls of the birds and frogs.
‘If you wish,’ she said with shy eagerness, ‘I can tell you much of what’s happened there. And once you’ve arrived in Didion, your great-great-grandmother –’
‘There’s no such person. My aged grandsire, who raised me after the death of my parents, never spoke of her. Even if she were alive, she’d be over a hundred years old. What use could such a feeble crone possibly be in a war against the Salka monsters?’
She rose and went to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. ‘That’s what you must discover, Deveron. You must return to Blenholme. Not for Conrig’s sake – he’s a tyrant unworthy of your love – but for the sake of the people he rules. For all his faults, he’s a strong Sovereign. He’s held the Salka in check this long, but only because the creatures have never taken full advantage of their sigil weaponry.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Do you know that the Salka leaders have activated the Great Stone known as the Potency? The Source told me that it’s a crucial tool of the New Conflict. Among other things, it can abolish the pain associated with sigil sorcery. Thus far, the monsters have made little use of it, perhaps for fear of offending the Beaconfolk and losing their magical weapons altogether. The minor sigils they now possess cause bearable pain, which they willingly endure. But lately the Salka have begun trying to fashion new sigils: not minor ones, but rather Great Stones like those once owned by their ancestors and by the rulers of Moss. If the monsters succeed in making these things, and then defy the Lights by abolishing the pain that limits the stones’ use, they’ll be unstoppable.’
‘Unstoppable,’ he repeated. ‘Yet Conrig Ironcrown is supposed to stop them. With my insignificant help. I’m only a healer, Induna!’
‘One who cannot be scried from afar by any sorcerer.’
‘The Lights can see me. I’m only beyond their reach here. That’s why they had to send you.’
‘You have other wild talents that exceed those of most professional magickers. And you have the two sigils that the Source compelled you to keep in spite of yourself, the ones you used to escape Conrig’s men. Are the stones now enclosed in that golden case hanging round your neck?’
He gripped the pendant in one fist without answering.
‘Subtle Gateway will transport you to Castle Morass in the blink of an eye,’ she said, ‘just as it enabled you to travel from Tarn to this place. And with Concealer you’ll be able to move about with complete invisibility at your destination. No other person has these advantages.’
When he replied, his voice trembled with an anger not directed at her. ‘In the sixteen years I’ve dwelt here, I’ve never used these accurst moonstones. They imperil one’s soul, as you already know. They seduce the user with the promise of more and more power and make him believe that the price is worth paying…Duna, I’ve wanted that power.’
‘The Source knows that, love. He also knows your strength. You can turn the sigil magic against the Pain-Eaters if you choose to. You can help end their ability to enslave and harm persons living in the Ground Realm.’
‘Let others fight this New Conflict! Why must I do it?’
‘You know why. Accept the mission, Deveron, if you’ve ever loved me. If I could relieve you of the burden, I’d take it on myself in an instant. But I can’t do this thing. Only you can.’
He gave a great sigh. ‘It means so much to you?’
‘On my life – it does.’
‘Then how can it mean less to me?’
Her face lit up. ‘You’ll go?’
He nodded. When he spoke, his voice was sad. ‘But only for your sake…as the Source knew well enough when he sent you.’
It took him the rest of the night to prepare for the journey.
Besides questioning Induna at length, he consulted maps and reference tomes before deciding on the supplies he would need. The Source’s choice of Castle Morass as his destination was puzzling. The place was a primitive, ill-situated little fortress above the Wold Road, owned by old Ising Bedotha, one of Didion’s most intransigent robber-barons. It was the last spot likely to be chosen by Conrig as a staging area for a strike against Salka pushing south along the Beacon River corridor toward human settlements surrounding Black Hare Lake.
Induna explained to him that, for unknown reasons, the shockingly swift Thunder Moon invasion by the monsters had come to an abrupt halt just three weeks after it began. Now, at the start of Harvest Moon, the Salka were still massed some fifty or sixty leagues north of Black Hare, in the heart of the Green Morass. If their advance remained stalled in that desolate wetland forest much longer, the onslaught of the bitter northern winter would force them either to hibernate or to retreat into the Icebear Channel. But there were disquieting rumors that the Salka were considering a new plan of action. Not even the Source knew what it might be.
Deveron decided he must be prepared for both rainy and cold weather. Leaving Induna to collect and dispose safely of the potentially harmful chymicals and herbal substances he would have to leave behind in the apotheck, he embarked for the city center in his dinghy. He had no furs or heavy leather garb of his own, but such things would be readily available from ship-chandlers he could roust out of bed at Mikk-Town quay…along with other merchants selling more unusual wares he had long since eschewed.
Dawn was breaking by the time he returned home. The dinghy was laden almost to the gunwales. Induna was surprised to see him unload it, then haul a second, lighter craft ashore and begin restowing almost everything inside it.
‘I’m taking the skiff with me to Didion,’ he explained. ‘It’ll be useful for getting around in the Green Morass. I don’t dare transport myself directly to the near vicinity of the castle. Who knows what’s waiting there besides my alleged twice-great-grandma? I’ll ask the sigil to set me down in a safe place a few leagues away, then scry out the situation before