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The Wizardwar :: Каннингем Элейн
Страница: 173 из 208"Your task is to ensure that wizards who stand against Malchior die, making him appear more formidable than he truly is. Let Malchior gain support, until he appears to be the primary challenger to Zalathorm's throne."
Dhamari nodded. "To even the slate, I should see to the demise of some of Malchior's supporters, as well. Then when Malchior falls, he will appear to be one of many. You can then argue that the mighty, benevolent Zalathorm has been reduced to dispatching lawful challengers like a back-alley assassin."
"Well reasoned," Procopio agree. He looked keenly at the little wizard. "You can accomplish this?"
"I can. The time I spent enjoying your hospitality yielded some excellent spells, ones that should prove difficult to detect."
The conspirators talked for several moments more before Procopio slipped away. When Dhamari was alone, he took his scrying globe and summoned the image of a beautiful elven face.
A slow smile spread across Dhamari's face as the spires of Akhlaur's tower came into view. Zalathorm would fall indeed, but not by Procopio's machinations. The coming carnage would be far beyond the lord mayor's proud expectations, and when it was done, even a man of Dhamari's stature would stand very tall indeed.
Chapter Eighteen
That evening, after another fruitless and frustrating visit to the queen's tower, Matteo returned to his private chambers. He was not surprised to see Tzigone awaiting him, sprawled comfortably, if not elegantly, on a velvet settee. He stopped short, however, as a second figure rose from a high-backed chair.
"King Zalathorm," he said in surprise.
"Close the door, please," the king said. "There is something more to be discussed, and I would rather not do so in full hearing of passing servants."
Matteo shut the door and came to sit near Tzigone. He took her hand and held it firmly. She sent him an incredulous look. "That bad, is it?"
"Just watch," the jordain said tersely. He nodded toward the king.
Zalathorm's visage had begun to change. The blurred lines of middle years gave way to taut, sun-browned skin. His features sharpened, and his frame compacted to the lithe form of a man half his apparent years. The robes of a Halruaan wizard-king changed into simple garments such as a young wizard out for adventure might wear.
Tzigone stared at this figure stepped from Keturah's memories. "The griffin rider," she said at last.
"Yes." Zalathorm sighed, and the weight of long years was in his eyes. "I admire Basel for what he did.
Dhamari nodded. "To even the slate, I should see to the demise of some of Malchior's supporters, as well. Then when Malchior falls, he will appear to be one of many. You can then argue that the mighty, benevolent Zalathorm has been reduced to dispatching lawful challengers like a back-alley assassin."
"Well reasoned," Procopio agree. He looked keenly at the little wizard. "You can accomplish this?"
"I can. The time I spent enjoying your hospitality yielded some excellent spells, ones that should prove difficult to detect."
The conspirators talked for several moments more before Procopio slipped away. When Dhamari was alone, he took his scrying globe and summoned the image of a beautiful elven face.
A slow smile spread across Dhamari's face as the spires of Akhlaur's tower came into view. Zalathorm would fall indeed, but not by Procopio's machinations. The coming carnage would be far beyond the lord mayor's proud expectations, and when it was done, even a man of Dhamari's stature would stand very tall indeed.
Chapter Eighteen
That evening, after another fruitless and frustrating visit to the queen's tower, Matteo returned to his private chambers. He was not surprised to see Tzigone awaiting him, sprawled comfortably, if not elegantly, on a velvet settee. He stopped short, however, as a second figure rose from a high-backed chair.
"King Zalathorm," he said in surprise.
"Close the door, please," the king said. "There is something more to be discussed, and I would rather not do so in full hearing of passing servants."
Matteo shut the door and came to sit near Tzigone. He took her hand and held it firmly. She sent him an incredulous look. "That bad, is it?"
"Just watch," the jordain said tersely. He nodded toward the king.
Zalathorm's visage had begun to change. The blurred lines of middle years gave way to taut, sun-browned skin. His features sharpened, and his frame compacted to the lithe form of a man half his apparent years. The robes of a Halruaan wizard-king changed into simple garments such as a young wizard out for adventure might wear.
Tzigone stared at this figure stepped from Keturah's memories. "The griffin rider," she said at last.
"Yes." Zalathorm sighed, and the weight of long years was in his eyes. "I admire Basel for what he did.