The Wizardwar   ::   Каннингем Элейн

After all, Halruaan magic descended from ancient Netheril, whose earliest mages were taught by elves. Despite the enhancements-some would say corruption and abominations-that Netherese wizards added to his magic, the roots of their tradition were decidedly elven.

His suspicions were quickly confirmed. The elven sages recognized the touch of Halruaan magic but could not identify the caster.

Zalathorm considered this puzzle as he made his way through the labyrinth to the exit and back to his palace. When divination would not serve, there were other ways to smoke out treachery.

Logic was foremost among them. Who was in a position to act, and who stood to gain? His thoughts drifted to Procopio Septus, who seemed exceptionally well versed in the magic of the eastern lands.

As the king neared his private rooms, he noted the small, white flag tucked into a bracket mounted near the door. Though a diviner of Zalathorm's power could easily sense the presence of most living beings, the jordaini's magic resistance made them difficult to perceive. It was custom and courtesy for a jordain to give notice of his presence.

Matteo was back already from the Nath. Zalathorm quickened his pace.

The young jordain rose when the king entered the room and sank into a deep bow. "My lord, I have much to report."

No preamble, none of the niceties of Halruaan protocol. Zalathorm nodded with approval. "Get on with it."

"The laraken has returned. My jordaini brothers and I battled it in the Nath. All would have died, but the monster was magically removed from battle. This suggests that Kiva may have returned from the Plane of Water, and possibly Akhlaur as well. The necromancer's spellbook contains a spell of dehydration similar to that cast against the Mulhorandi invaders."

"The spell was Akhlaur's," the king agreed. "There is no doubt in my mind. His tower has been raised-I've sensed a disturbance in the magic that hid it from treasure seekers."

The jordain smiled faintly. "Lord Basel said this report would be unnecessary."

"Basel?"

"Lord Basel met us in the Nath and put his skyship at my disposal."

"Good thinking. From now on you shall have your own ship. Have the steward see to it. What more?"

"I’m going after Tzigone. Lord Basel has found a spell that should serve. Its casting requires a lock of hair from one of my ancestors. I spoke with my father."

"Ah." Zalathorm looked at him keenly. "This saddened you."

"Deeply. I knew the man all my life. He was one of my jordaini masters.