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"I have never seen their like," courtiers were saying.
From the archway, Ceshti and the waiters were watching and enjoying the show,
too. Why could Tyrus not be content with so much success, he asked himself.
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Then one of Jathelle's noble ladies said, "This will give us something to talk
about when we ride up to the Meadows on the morrow."
His heart thundered, blood surging up his throat like a fever within him.
Tyrus extended his powers, again touching that evil presence he had felt
earlier. Vraduir was still somewhere close. Northward! The rumors of peasants,
the stories about hidden coves too much danger and much too near to Couredh's
city and to Jathelle! This hawking expedition would take Jathelle and her
sister out of the city walls and north, into the open.
Somehow, he had to stop them. No place was safe while Vraduir was alive, but
Jathelle must not court his attention in this way.
"More magic," Jathelle begged. "Erejzan, more of your gifts, please!"
"Qlitos' keen winds and Wyolak's holy lightnings are in my limbs and veins to
delight you, LaRenya," Erejzan boasted, grinning at his own words to show he
did not take them too seriously. His smile was aimed mostly at
Ilissa.
"More magic there shall be," Tyrus said suddenly. Perhaps there was a way to
warn the sisters, to frighten Jathelle into giving up the hawking expedition!
Yet he must work this gingerly, or his true calling might be learned.
He reached inside his tunic to that small packet he wore always bound close to
his heart. He drew it forth and carefully unwrapped the strip of
Bendine silk from a diamond-shaped object. Its black surface caught the
tapers' light and reflected it blindingly for a moment.
Erejzan's matchless balance failed him for once. He saw what Tyrus was holding
and stiffened with shock. Too tense, he landed badly from one of his leaps,
almost sprawling his length on the carpet. Women shrieked and noblemen reached
out with an instinctive urge to catch him, though they were seated too far
from hun to help. Erejzan took several running steps and flailed wildly,
awkwardly regaining his feet. After a gulp or two, he struck a prideful pose
and acted as if the mishap were but a ruse to create suspense. Nervous
laughter filled the royal chamber, then loud applause.
Amid the clamor, Erejzan spoke from the corner of his mouth. "What are you
doing? Have you gone mad, Tyrus?"
"My wits are my own, mai fiyel."
"But if Vraduir is using his vision-glass& "
"I must do this. Trust me, and follow where I lead." Erejzan's eyes were green
circles shining with fear. But he nodded and Tyrus raised his voice and
announced, "Most Gracious LaRenya, Most Beauteous LaSirin, lords and ladies of
Couredh a new wonderment now! I show you here a magic glass, a tool of
conjury, rare and most costly& "
"Worth your very life," Erejzan muttered unhappily.
No one heard him. Jathelle leaned forward, her breath quickening.
"Tell us of the magic glass, charm-weaver. More marvels!"
Tyrus lifted the vision-glass above his head. "Here is a glass which can give
me the farseeing, LaRenya." Erejzan frowned but held his tongue. He was as
curious as the nobility, wondering where Tyrus was taking them all. Using that
sonorous, theatrical tone he had practiced so often this past year, Tyrus
said, "I shall bring forth the denizens of the magic glass and they will
reveal to us what may come to pass. Behold!"
Dipping into his storehouse of illusions, Tyrus created a fiery nimbus and
framed himself and Erejzan. This dramatic effect added to the crowd's babbling
excitement. Women shivered and clung to their lords, as
Dissa did to Aubage. Only Jathelle scorned such protection, eager to see the
magic.
Reaching still deeper, Tyrus wandered shaded groves of alien trees and moved
into echoing cells, selecting what he must have. He concentrated and held his
breath, focussing the will in his mind. Three shriveled hags popped from the
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surface of the vision-glass, miniature beings who grew in an instant to full
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