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

the employment of magic, especially not by those who worked for him, even and perhaps especially as they suspected its use within the walls of the citadel.  It was the reason he tolerated Wrock’s unannounced visits in the way in which the other conducted them, coming and going to and from the tower in the depth of night.

Longfellow signalled for Tan Wrock to continue by rolling his finger.

“The Furies were all of them dispatched, dead upon contact with their attacker.  My scouts reported that it was not the Faerie Whorl that put an end to them, like the last time with the Windwalker.  It was a new form of sorcery that was used.  Here’s the interesting bit, my Lord: it was not the Druid who killed them; it was someone else.  The Druid has help.”

Longfellow bit at a forkful of meat and chewed.  This news did not surprise him.  It was only a matter of time before Daaynan enlisted support, but from where?  “How many of them were there?”

“Two, as far as the scouts could see.  One baited the Fury King, while the other, the one with real power, stepped in before he could attack and put an end to him.”

“How did he achieve this?”

“He only had to touch the Fury, it seemed.  This sorcerer must have great power, yet it does not seem to work unless he is close to the victim, hence the deception carried out by his assistant.  However, as soon as their leader went down the other Furies surrounding him fell like dominoes.”

“Hmm.  Where did the Druid come upon such a sorcerer?  He has no friends, little family to speak of, even if they were a help to him which they would not be.  He’s alone in that castle.”

Wrock shifted his stance marginally and Longfellow felt the intensity of his gaze suddenly.  “That fire of his accomplishes almost anything.  Perhaps he dragged something out of its own time and place and set it to work against the Furies.  One thing’s for sure, the sorcerer he enlisted does not hail from the Northern Earth.”

Longfellow considered what the other said.  “He’ll have pieced it together by now that it’s me who sent those Furies.  That one doesn’t waste time.  He’ll be coming for us.”

No, Tan Wrock thought, he’ll be coming for you, but maybe that doesn’t matter.  If that other sorcerer gets within a mile of the citadel it’ll all be over anyway and I plan to be very far away by that time.

“Have you tried to reach him with your magic?” Longfellow said, breaking into the other’s thoughts.

“I have.  He’s too powerful, or just too different.  Whatever the case, the result is the same.  He’s beyond my influence.”

Longfellow nodded, unsurprised.  Wrock looked at him.  You are not beyond my powers, however, my Lord Steward.  I could finish you right here, on the spot.

“Perhaps when they get closer you’ll be able to do so,” Longfellow said dismissively, ignoring his gaze.

“How are your plans for the Drague Territories coming along?” Wrock asked him.

“I’ve rounded up as many of the tribes there as I could and sent the Northern Army in with them to push further East.”

“Drague tribes and Northern Army soldiers,” Wrock mused, “that’s a volatile combination, I would say.”

“We have the full cooperation of the Drague people,” Longfellow sniffed.  “There’s no problem there.”

“And the Cru Dynasty in the Southern Territories?”

“That’s proving more difficult, but it doesn’t concern you.”

He could see their meeting was coming to a close.  They talked on for a bit, skating over subjects that ranged from the strength of the Home Guard to various Council members that were giving Karsin a difficult time, the Vice-Steward in particular.  There had been times when such members had posed a genuine threat to Karsin’s rule, when Wrock had been employed to ‘mediate’ the situation.  Longfellow enjoyed such terms as ‘mediate’ and ‘resolve,’ when what they amounted to was plain murder and Wrock had been his cat’s paw in such times.

Wrock left as he had come in, passing by the guards unseen, stealing out through the Citadel, headed toward his residence on the outskirts of Brinemore.  He reflected on what he had told the Steward tonight.  What he’d said had been true, but he had left things out.  For example, the impression he had received from this newly arrived sorcerer when his mind had reached out to his with the Thrust.  It was a unique impression, the mind of the other cold and imperial, born to command, able to see into the minds of men like himself and yet...it lacked compromise, as if it were used to utter subservience from those it came into contact with, without ever once being challenged for its power.  Whatever place and time he came from, he would find the Northern Earth a little different, Wrock felt sure.  Tan had on occasion, and without the other’s knowledge, used the Thrust against the Druid Daaynan and found the experience to be very different.  The Druid’s mind was equally tempered yet cautious and, beyond a point, unyielding.  Wrock had received the impression that if he had pushed further, a powerful shutter would descend and block all further contact.  This block was not present in the mind of the other sorcerer.  Interesting indeed.  He would wait before employing the Thrust again to see what would happen when the sorcerer was closer to Brinemore.

The Druid did not enjoy the full cooperation of this sorcerer, he thought, despite what had happened to the Furies.  Such a Magus did not assist anyone unless it was done with more than a degree of self-interest.  So now the Druid and the sorcerer were headed this way, the sorcerer armed with the knowledge his magic had gleaned from the Furies that Longfellow had sent them to Fein Mor, the Druid having likely worked it out on his own.  Perhaps they would confront each other before they arrived, and if so, who would prevail?  If what the Thrust had told him was correct, he