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behind one of the warehouses built of stone that was for the storage of ship timber. His wide-brimmed
hat was pulled down to shade his eyes, though the lights were low in the place, as if to encourage
conspiracy. He smoked a long pipe of pale clay whilst a flagon of barley beer grew ever warmer on the
table in front of him.
The door of the inn opened and three men entered, all cloaked despite the closeness of the night. They
ordered ale, and two took theirs to a table on the other side of the inn while the third sat down opposite
Golophin. He threw back his hood and raised his flagon to the old wizard, grinning.
Well met, my friend.
Golophin s narrow, lined face cracked into a smile. You might order me another beer, lad. This one is
as flat as an old crone s tit.
A fresh flagon came, and Golophin drank from its moisture-beaded pewter gratefully.
The landlord seems singularly incurious about the nature of his customers, King Abeleyn of Hebrion
said.
It is his business. This will not be the first whispered discussion he will have seen in his tavern. In places
such as this the commerce of Abrusio is directed and misdirected.
Abeleyn raised one dark eyebrow. So? And not in the court or the throne room then?
There as well, of course, sire, said Golophin with mock sincerity.
I do not see why you could not have made your way into the palace invisibly or suchlike. This trysting in
corners smacks of fear, Golophin. I don t like it.
It is for the best, sire. It may seem to complicate things, but in fact it keeps life a lot simpler. Our friend
the Prelate may be out of the city, but he has spies aplenty to do his watching for him. It were best you
were not seen in my company while this current purge lasts.
It is you he aims at, Golophin.
Oh, I know. He wants my hide nailed to a tree, to halt what he sees as the Guild s meddling in the affairs
of state. He would rather the clergy did the meddling. The Prelate has a whole host of issues he means to
address, sire, and this edict he badgered you into signing is one way of getting to the heart of several of
them.
I know it only too well, but I cannot risk excommunication. With Macrobius gone there is no voice of
reason left among the senior Church leaders, except possibly Merion of Astarac. By the way, how is the
Synod coming together? What have you seen in your sorcerous travels?
They are still gathering. Our worthy Prelate had a good passage once he was out of the calms around
these coasts. His vessel is currently crossing the Gulf of Almark, south of Alsten Island. He will be in
Charibon in ten days, if the weather holds.
Who is there already?
The Prelates of Almark, Perigraine and Torunna have preceded him. Their colleague, Merion of
Astarac, had a longer journey to make than any of the others, and the Malvennor Mountains to cross. It
will be two weeks, I fear, before the Synod is convened, sire.
The longer the better, if it keeps that tonsured wolf from my door. I will soon be setting off myself for
the Conclave of Kings at Vol Ephrir. Can you keep me informed about the doings here while I am away,
Golophin?
The old mage sucked deeply on his pipe, and then shrugged with a twitch of his bony shoulders.
It will not be easy. I will have to cast through my familiar, something no mage likes to do at any time, but
I will do my best, sire. It will mean losing our eye on the east, though.
Why? I thought all you wizards had to do was gaze into a crystal and see what you wanted to see.
If only it were that simple. No, if my gyrfalcon accompanies you I will be able to send you news from
here through it, but do not expect regular bulletins. The process is exhausting and dangerous.
Abeleyn looked troubled. I would not ask, except
No, you have a right to ask, and it is a thing which must be done. Let us speak no more of it.
No one else could have spoken thus to the King of Hebrion, but Golophin had been one of Abeleyn s
tutors when he had been a runny-nosed little miscreant, and the young prince had felt the back of the
wizard s hand many times. Abeleyn s father, Bleyn the Pious, had believed in a stern upbringing laden
with religious instruction, but Abeleyn had always hated the Inceptine tutors, dry men whose imagination
was a thing of dust, a storehouse of past aphorisms and never-to-be-questioned rules. It was Golophin
who had saved him, who had defused the incipient rebellion in the youngster and coaxed him into an
appearance at least of dutiful submission. The wizard s closeness to the King s son had been one of the
things which had protected him from the malice of the Inceptines when they had tried to rid the court of
all vestiges of unorthodoxy and sorcery. The irony was that with the wizard s pupil at last on the throne,
they had finally succeeded. Aekir s fall, Golophin thought with real bitterness, had been a Godsend to
them.
Speaking of the east, Abeleyn said conversationally, how are the Torunnans holding out?
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