The Steward and the Sorcerer by James Peart (books suggested by elon musk .TXT) 📕

who wield power.  It is dark everywhere here, and these creatures, should they be resourceful enough to confront a Druid, will not be led through the rooms of this palace like a common mongrel chasing a stick.

“I shall help you, however.  I do not want to return to my world.  It was dying.  The proximity of our sun had displaced all life there.  I want to explore new arenas, extend my influence beyond what was possible on Naveen.  There is great life here, I can sense it.  This home to the Druids watches over a terrain that is vast and varied and few save those who await us outside have access to real magic.”

“How can you know that?”

The King looked at Simon with acute disdain.  “I put my hands on the walls of the palace.  Echoes of the once living are buried inside them.  I felt the repository of their combined thoughts, feelings and actions, dead as those things are now.”

“You put an end to them when you killed Daaynan.”  When Simon heard himself speak he was taken aback to discover more than a measure of bitterness in his words.

“This is not true.  They are stored, in a manner of speaking, in the Goldonyte records.  But I digress.  To confront those who wait for us we need to do more than entice them inside.”

“Why is that?”

“Because they are serving a purpose by simply standing guard outside the Druid’s palace.  The one who sent them, this King with no magic of his own, either wants to put an end to the Druid or keep him trapped here.  Both outcomes suit his purpose.”

“You know about the steward of Brinemore?”

“Is that his title?  How dull.  Once he has sworn fealty to my Kingdom I shall grant him a more interesting one.  His Kingdom lies northwest of here, the best part of three days on horseback.”

Weighing the matter, Simon shook his head.  “They’ll have to come inside eventually, to confirm that Daaynan is dead.  That means they’ll want to finish us first, before they get a chance to inspect the keep.  The steward has plans to extend his power base over the Northern Earth and Daaynan gets in the way of that.  Getting rid of him is key for Longfellow.  You did kill the Druid, didn’t you?”

“Enough!” Iridis shouted, moving toward Simon in a sudden feint.

Christopher swung the Drey torch in response, and the image of the temple filled the King’s vision, the glaring light of its pillars seeming to reach out beyond the limits marked by the green fire and swallow him up.  For the first time, his eyes registered fright and he backed away.  When he looked at the Englishmen again, the fear had gone, though there was caution in his expression.

“I asked you did you kill the Druid?” Simon pressed.  When the other didn’t answer he said “I think you didn’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Because if you had, you would have already decided to show the Faerie spirits.  It would simply have been a matter of dragging his corpse to the curtain wall and hanging it from a flagpole outside a window overlooking the drawbridge.  Everyone would be happy.”

“But not you,” the King said.  “You need him to get back to where you came from.  Yours is not a dying world like mine.  There is still life there.”  He offered the Englishmen a sly grin to match their obvious surprise.  “I learned that much when my hands marked his body.”

“Alright,” Simon nodded, “we do.  But you need to escape just as much, considering your plans.  I’m suggesting we marshal our efforts and get rid of these spirits.”

“Marshal?” Iridis said doubtfully.

“Combine.  Join up.  Teamwork!”

“I already agreed I would help you, halfling, but your plan is not a good one.  I could just return to the chamber where I found the Druid and finish him for good.”

“I don’t think you’ll find him there, or you would have already killed him.  Help us now and afterward we can go our separate ways.”

The King stared at them.  Finally, he nodded.  “But we must do it my way.  This is best.”

“Agreed.”

14.

The two friends walked behind the King as he led them toward the great hall inside the main doors of the castle.  Simon walked a little adrift of Christopher who was still holding the Drey torch in both hands and watching Iridis’s every step.  They walked in silence for a long time.  At one point, Simon turned to Christopher.  “What do you make of him?” he asked, pointing at Iridis.

“I think,” his friend said “that he looks elegant in his costume.”

“But he’s not all there- haven’t you noticed?”

“He’s sharp enough when he wants to be.  That talk about confronting the Faeries just inside the keep, he was likely right about that.”

“Agreed, but I’d like to know what his plan is.  We need to do more than entice them inside and I have a feeling he doesn’t know what to do any more than a Flat-Earther knows how to use a compass.  At least Daaynan’s plan had the benefit of your resemblance to Longfellow.”  Simon let out a sigh.  “It’s times like these you wish you had the distilled wisdom of the great free thinkers to guide you.  Kesey.Kerouac.  Ginsberg.”

“They could come up with a strategy, I feel certain.”

“But they’d fall short on implementation.  I feel we’re in better hands than we ought to be.”

“Why d’you say that?”

Christopher raised his chin a degree, that familiar look of imperious disdain evident on his features.

“Our world is full of ideas but you need to slog it to get anything done.  If you want to get a simple book published, you must cultivate relationships with the right sort of people and it takes years.  If you...”

“I get it.  Whereas here...”

“Manifestation is nearly simultaneous, thanks to the missing ingredient.”

“Magic!”

“And like it or not, we need to be near those who have it, merely to survive.”

“Yes, well I’ve had it with this medieval Tolkienism.  When I return I’m going to take