"No, my lord. He had returned home to attend a wedding." It was a partial truth. The wedding had taken place a month earlier and Coppin had stayed on for the hunting.

Estragoth relaxed. "It is never wise for a House to be unrepresented at Angorn," he remarked, "but fam- ily obligations must be honored." He nodded to him- self. "How long were you at Estragoth?" he asked.

"A little over a sennight," Malum replied. He smiled.

"I should have liked to stay longer. Your family was most hospitable and I got to do some hunting with Coppin, but it is a long way from Estragoth to Quern."

"And is the South as turbulent as the rest of the Em- pire?"

"Not really, but I think that's because it is basically agricultural. Most of the unrest seems to be in the towns. Although, even in my county, there has been some, er, consolidation of estates."

"Why all the trouble in the urban areas?" the Elector asked.

"It's the subject of considerable debate. Prices have gone up and wages have stayed low. There are more able-bodied men available for work since the war ended and now there are a lot of fifteen-year-olds starting to look for employment. Taxes are high, housing's becom- ing scarce, the last two harvests were bad and the price of bread is high." Malum shrugged. "Some say that the nation's sense of purpose has gone." He paused and sipped his wine. "And then there's Simian the Hermit."

Estragoth waited a couple of beats. "And who is he?'"

"He's an intinerant preacher," Malum replied. "I'm told he comes from Clovermede in the Electorate of Pathan. At first he wandered around the countryside preaching against the Church of the Mother. He con-

90 siders the church too rich and too closely allied with the aristocracy. He contends that they do nothing for the poor. He attracted considerable crowds.

"He was arrested and brought to trial for sedition, but there was no proof that he had spoken against the Emperor." Malum produced a wintry smile. "There is, apparently no law against inciting peasants to seize church lands. So they let him go and he shifted his focus to the plight of the workers. He has a lot of people very upset."

"All in all, not a very rea.s.suring prospect," Estragoth said gloomily. "It makes our job more vital still. If we had the Outland to settle, there would be ample land for all. It would give the Empire a new sense of pur- pose, a new challenge."

"Any news on that front, sir?" Malum asked.

"Alas no. Sarad and that witch Olivderval have gone home to consult their governments, Courtak is away again on some strange mission, Naxania is preoccupied with a rising of disaffected n.o.bles, Otorin of Lissen is off trying to put down the rebellion. Only Forodan of Songuard is still here and he's busy playing the gentle- man. It will be at least another month before the Com- mission" rea.s.sembles."

The old man sighed and finished his wine. He looked across at Malum. "There are days when I doubt that I shall live to see the work completed. The infernal Is- phardis undermine everything I do."

"There are ways of taking Olivderval out of play,"

Malum said quietly. "There is a price for everything in Belengar, even the life of an Oligarch."

Estragoth gave a wintry little smile. "I doubt if it would do any good. She speaks for the rest of them and a couple of the other Oligarchs would be even harder to deal with." He shook his head absently.

"Pay me no mind. It's late and I'm tired. Do you go 91.

and get yourself something to eat. I'll stay up a while longer and read these." He reached out and touched the packet lightly.

Malum rose and took his leave. Surely, he thought as he made his way back to his room, there must be a way to get the treaty signed. They had worked too long and too hard to be cheated at this point. If it couldn't be achieved by fair means, then perhaps by foul. Noth- ing to be done about it for the moment, though. He'd get caught up tomorrow on what had been going on in Paladine while he had been away. This rebellion sounded interesting.

chaipteR 10

ie Outland was much on the mind of Jarrod Cour- tak. The work on clearing the rubble of the Giants'

Causeway was proceeding almost too well, thanks to the reappearance of the unicorn. The Magicians and cloudsteedsmen had been seconded and had evolved a smooth routine. Best of all, Nastrus wasn't bored as yet- Jarrod had no illusions about the unicorn's staying power. He would work hard until the novelty wore off, but, after that, he was liable to disappear on an unan- nounced holiday again. He would stay at it until they reached Cetador, of that Jarrod was certain. He had promised Nastrus that he could demonstrate his prow- ess in front of the Queen, the Archmage and all the notables. He smiled to himself. After all these years he knew just how to appeal to the unicorn's vanity.

He himself was already at Celador, preparing for the display. It was here in the Anmdelian capital that the Discipline's new service to the people of Strand would be officially unveiled. He had cleared the date with the Chamberlain, made arrangements with Dean Handrom for a new roster of Magicians to be trained in the art of cooperative levitation, and now it was time to pay his respects to the Archmage. He mounted the familiar stairs of the Archmage's Tower with trepidation. In the old days the feeling had been caused by fear; now it was caused by concern.

He was fond of the old Magician. He had come to 93.

appreciate him during the tour of Strand that the two of them had made after the defeat of the Outlanders.

The warmth that was usually concealed behind a scath- ing volley of words had come to the fore. The Arch- mage had seen to it that Jarrod's head had not been turned by the adulation that had surrounded them dur- ing that first euphoric year of peace and, in retrospect, Jarrod was grateful. No, he wasn't afraid of Ragnor's justly famous tongue. He was afraid that infirmity had dulled the sharp mind. There had been no sign of it a month ago, but, at his age, one never knew.

He followed the Duty Boy into the room and saw that Ragnor was seated in his favorite chair by the fire- place. Despite the warmth of the day, there was a lap robe over his knees. A pair of spectacles was perched on the beaky nose. A long, thin hand rose and a fore- finger beckoned. Jarrod walked forward.

"I'd get up and hug you if I could," the reedy voice said, "but my rheumatics are bad today."

Jarrod smiled, advanced and embraced the old man.

"How are you, sir?" he asked as he straightened up.

"The better for seeing you. Now, go and get yourself a chair and pour us both a cup of sack. I told the mon- ster that I was entertaining important company today and it would look bad if I couldn't offer some decent refreshment." He chuckled creakily. "I have problems walking of late," he continued. "If it isn't my hips it's my knees, but there's nothing wrong with my wits or my digestion, the G.o.ds be thanked." He took the cup that Jarrod was holding out and drank deeply.

"Ah, that's better. That overprotective charlatan will kill me with her ministration&."

"She's undoubtedly thinking of your health," Jarrod said reasonably.

"Arrant insubordination'" Ragnor snapped, and Jar-

94 rod knew that his fears were groundless. The old man hadn't changed.

"So," the Archmage said with a complicitous smile, "you're here for the grand demonstration that will re- store the l.u.s.ter of the Discipline, are you?" He drank again. "I never cease to be surprised at how short the memories of the Untalented are. It wasn't that long ago that we pulled off the impossible, you and I, and yet they tell me that the Discipline is in danger of being considered irrelevant."

"Well, it was fifteen years ago," Jarrod reminded him.

"That long? It seems five years at the most to me."

"It's not that we're irrelevant," Jarrod explained, saddened at the need to do so, "it's just that we are taken for granted these days. People expect the seasons to be regulated and the crop rain to fall at the ap- pointed hour. The local Magicians who keep the mill wheels and the looms going when the wind is low tend to be thought of as workers rather than miracle work- ers. It's bad for morale."

"It's also bad for our influence in international affairs,"

Ragnor said shrewdly. "I a.s.sume that's why you and Grey- lock chose the Outland as the setting for this experiment."

Jarrod smiled. "It had crossed our minds." Had the old man forgotten their previous conversation? They had been over this ground on the last visit.

"Bad business this, ah, disagreement over the Out- land." The old man sniffed and finished off his sack. He held his cup out for a refill. "It could undo everything we have tried to achieve in the way of relations between governments, although I do like this idea of a Concor- dat with Isphardel. What I don't like is the way Varo- dias is stirring the pot."

"The Emperor?" Jarrod said as he returned to his seat, trying not to sound relieved.

"Of course the Emperor," Ragnor said impatiently.

95.

"Things are going badly in Umbria-there's a deal of civil unrest and the Electors are becoming increasingly independent of the Crown. Varodias is losing control and he's desperate for a way to reunite the country, or at least to rea.s.sert his own authority. What better way than to point the finger at the perfidious foreigner out to rob the Empire of its rightful due?"

"That wasn't the impression I got from Estragoth,''

Jarrod objected, marveling anew at the extent of the Archmage's knowledge.

"Course it wasn't. I'll wager he didn't tell you that he was setting up an intelligence system either, but he is. The Elector is a wily old fox and he's devoted to Varodias." He looked up and caught the look of sur- prise on Jarrod's face. Misinterpreting it, he added, "I don't just sit here dreaming, son. I've spent fifty years developing a network of informants in the Empire. Peo- ple think of me as a doddering, old Magician." He raised a spotted hand. "Oh, don't bother to deny it.

What they forget is that I ran this country for nigh on twenty years and I've kept my hand in ever since."

"If Varodias is looking for an excuse to d.a.m.n all foreigners, won't the Concordat play into his hands?"