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

making an attempt to assess what the other was telling him with dispassionate logic.  His support structure removed, he was alone again with Longfellow, subsidiary to the other’s grand schemes.  This one made sense, however.  A world without magic was enticing, regardless of how it was accomplished.  It had been his ticket to public office and he could use it now, as before, to further his aims.  What was more, the timing was good, even if the opportunity had been created by the dangerous individual that now stood before him.  It was said that elected service was a spear and politics was knowing when to throw it.  It was politic to do so when the attacks still featured largely in the public’s awareness.

His eyes never once leaving the Steward’s, he nodded his agreement.  “I will.’

23.

Tan Wrock sat in the ordered space of his private lodgings and reflected on the events of the past day.  His dwelling lay in a large guesthouse on the remote outskirts of Brinemore that took in mostly day-borders and whose owners were currently absent, scaling the north face of Mount Jarret.  Traffic to and from the guesthouse was frequent and an extra face would not be noticed.  He sat in the comfort of his living room, sipping ale from a glass and thought.  He would need to move soon, further away from Brinemore.  Longfellow would decry the attacks on the five council members as the work of sorcery and however invisible his own talents might be, he did not trust the Steward not to point the finger at him.  He needed to be long gone when that happened.  He pondered the dispatching of the five.  It had been a simple matter involving the tracking of their whereabouts and employing a small use of the Thrust.  Almost nothing, really.  Merely a suggestion planted deep in the consciousness- he called it an echo- that rebounded against the walls of the mind until it became intolerable not to obey it.  In each case it was over in a matter of minutes.

The same would not be the case for the one who called himself the Raja.

He had earlier used the Thrust on Iridis and had discovered that the other was close to Brinemore- another hour or so and he would arrive at the outskirts of the city.  Tan had been careful to use his magic sparingly.  He had sent it out in tiny waves that would avoid detection, careful not to trip the lines of power that circled the Raja.  He knew he could push a lot further- unlike with the Druid- and perhaps penetrate his mind entirely, reaching past the impressions he received to discover what he was thinking, but what would the response be?  Could he influence the Raja in time- before the other was able to react?  And what would that reaction be? Only by pushing further could he answer this and by then it might be too late. He did not want to give away his location and have the other cut a path toward him instead of the Steward.

Tan wondered what the Iridis’ strategy was.  Would he approach Brinemore directly, subverting everyone he came into contact with using that famous touch of his, or would he favour a subtler tack and attempt to misdirect his quarry?  He hardly needed to.  Yet as things stood the other was only aware of Longfellow as a threat to his plans for the Northern Territories.  Tan preferred it that way.

He considered the Steward of Brinemore.  Longfellow was not defenceless against creatures of magic.  He had found some way of summoning them from...who knew where?  The Windwalker he had called into being- the first Faerie creature he had sent to dispatch the Druid while he was still in Fein Mor- was not drawn from the world of Faerie, or not precisely.  It had been a crossling, featuring some characteristics of Faerie and others belonging to a time or place not known to the Northern Earth.  And despite this the Druid had bested it as well as the four others who had been sent afterward.  But the Steward could make more appear!  He needed Tan to use the Thrust on the creatures that he dragged out of whatever oblivion they hailed from, and he would need him now after drawing a creature of such power that not even the Druid or the Raja would be able to stand against it.

After those two were dead, Tan could turn this creature on Longfellow himself.  He could set it loose on him, making sure it rendered his body to pieces, tearing him apart limb from limb.  He might even watch.

Tan Wrock sipped more of his drink, smiling, shivering in anticipation of the pleasure it would bring him.

24.

Beneath a fortified inner tower of a small castle in the north-west of the city, standing behind black cellar doors pitched against the tower, was the Steward of Brinemore.  It was normally dark here, visibility reduced to almost nothing.  There were things moving around, creatures impossible to sense other than by their foul odour and the occasional scratching sounds they made.  The rank air of the keep disturbed him, permeating the scented dust he had sprayed against his tunic, prompting him to crease his nose in distaste.  In one hand he held a torch- rags soaked in flammable liquid and lit- and waved it about to illuminate his surroundings until he saw a set of narrow steps leading further down beneath the keep.  He negotiated the steps cautiously as if it were his first visit though he knew the way well, had in fact been here more than twenty times over the past year.  Many problems of office had been solved by coming here, the solutions to such problems drawn from what lived underneath the tower.  And many secrets had been kept, the silence of the party or parties involved permanently guaranteed.

The steps coiled for some time before straightening and flattening, finally decanting the