Read Online Blood ties-- Thieves World 09 by Robert Asprin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Asprin
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Fantastic fiction, Science fiction; American
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the dignity just when it no longer was one: The Mageguild had held the populace in thrall by fear and power for time uncounted. Now that the Nisibisi power globes'
destruction had made simple spells uncastable and love potions useless, now that sympathetic magic was no longer so, the Mageguild adepts feared not merely for their income.
When Sanctuary's denizens realized that no wards protected the haughty sorcerers, that spells paid for and tendered wouldn't work, that the Mageguild's collective foot had been lifted from llsig and Rankan neck alike, the Hazards'
lives would be at risk.
So finding a way to render the grounds and walls malleable to magic was not simply an exercise: The Hazards might need an unbreachable fortress in which to hide from angry clients.
And Randal, whose magic was less affected than the local mages', who had a dream-forged kris at his hip and the protection of the very lord of dreams, had been called upon to aid his guild's relatives-though when the guild had been all-powerful, they had not liked the Stepsons' wizard nearly so well as now.
"It's not me, you know," Randal was trying to explain to the First Hazard, whose war name was Cat and who looked more like a Rankan noble than a practiced adept who'd earned such a name. "My magic, such as it is," Randal went on modestly,
"is part curse and part dream-spawned-not dependent on whatever forces have been weakened in the south."
The Rankan adept looked at the Tysian wizard narrowly, then wondered aloud,
"It's not some power play of Nisibisi origin, then? Nothing Torchholder, Roxane, and the rest of you northern wizards have dreamed up?" Randal sneezed and wiped his freckled nose on his sleeve, ears reddening in embarrassment: "If I were so powerful as that, couldn't I rid myself of these damnable allergies?" His affliction was back, the one concomitant he'd experienced of the local adepts' distress: Pollen, birds, and especially furred creatures could bring him to a paroxysm of distress. Once he'd had a handkerchief which quelled them, and then he'd had a power which suppressed them. Now he had neither.
The First Hazard's impolitic retort was interrupted by an apprentice who burst in, saying: "My lords Hazard, a man has breached our wards, a stranger-that is, we think so, but he's coming-up the stairs, now, and he's got his horse with him..."
The handsome First Hazard hung his head, staring at his twisting fingers in his lap, and lied to the wide-eyed apprentice, "It's a summoning. We were expecting him. Go back to your work. . . . What is it, for dinner? We'll have guests, of course-man and... horse."
"Dinner? It's..." The apprentice was a witchling girl, thick-haired, short and comely, with a small waist that accentuated breast and hips despite her shapeless beginner's robe. Her face was rosy-cheeked and heart-shaped, and Randal wondered why he'd never noticed her, then banished the thought: He was betrothed, soon to be wed to Jihan, a source of power he never mentioned in this afflicted Mageguild.
The girl, composing herself with obvious effort, said, "Parrots, fleas, and squirrel bunions, m'lords Hazard-a stew, if it pleases."
"What?" snapped the harried First Hazard. Then, when the girl covered her mouth under widening eyes, continued: "Never mind the accursed menu, get out of here. And keep everyone else away until the dinner bell. Go on, girl, go!" As she scurried backwards, a clomping of hoofbeats could be heard, followed by a sound like porcelain crashing on a marble floor.
And then, through the great double doors whence the girl had just fled, a horse and rider came.
The horseman hadn't dismounted; the horse had eyes of fiery intelligence and pricked its ears at Randal. Its coat was mottled, red and black and gray, but there was no mistaking it: It was the Tros horse of his commander. Through a fit of sneezing he miserably endured, Randal hurried forward, saying,
"My lord commander, welcome, welcome."
And the First Hazard,
destruction had made simple spells uncastable and love potions useless, now that sympathetic magic was no longer so, the Mageguild adepts feared not merely for their income.
When Sanctuary's denizens realized that no wards protected the haughty sorcerers, that spells paid for and tendered wouldn't work, that the Mageguild's collective foot had been lifted from llsig and Rankan neck alike, the Hazards'
lives would be at risk.
So finding a way to render the grounds and walls malleable to magic was not simply an exercise: The Hazards might need an unbreachable fortress in which to hide from angry clients.
And Randal, whose magic was less affected than the local mages', who had a dream-forged kris at his hip and the protection of the very lord of dreams, had been called upon to aid his guild's relatives-though when the guild had been all-powerful, they had not liked the Stepsons' wizard nearly so well as now.
"It's not me, you know," Randal was trying to explain to the First Hazard, whose war name was Cat and who looked more like a Rankan noble than a practiced adept who'd earned such a name. "My magic, such as it is," Randal went on modestly,
"is part curse and part dream-spawned-not dependent on whatever forces have been weakened in the south."
The Rankan adept looked at the Tysian wizard narrowly, then wondered aloud,
"It's not some power play of Nisibisi origin, then? Nothing Torchholder, Roxane, and the rest of you northern wizards have dreamed up?" Randal sneezed and wiped his freckled nose on his sleeve, ears reddening in embarrassment: "If I were so powerful as that, couldn't I rid myself of these damnable allergies?" His affliction was back, the one concomitant he'd experienced of the local adepts' distress: Pollen, birds, and especially furred creatures could bring him to a paroxysm of distress. Once he'd had a handkerchief which quelled them, and then he'd had a power which suppressed them. Now he had neither.
The First Hazard's impolitic retort was interrupted by an apprentice who burst in, saying: "My lords Hazard, a man has breached our wards, a stranger-that is, we think so, but he's coming-up the stairs, now, and he's got his horse with him..."
The handsome First Hazard hung his head, staring at his twisting fingers in his lap, and lied to the wide-eyed apprentice, "It's a summoning. We were expecting him. Go back to your work. . . . What is it, for dinner? We'll have guests, of course-man and... horse."
"Dinner? It's..." The apprentice was a witchling girl, thick-haired, short and comely, with a small waist that accentuated breast and hips despite her shapeless beginner's robe. Her face was rosy-cheeked and heart-shaped, and Randal wondered why he'd never noticed her, then banished the thought: He was betrothed, soon to be wed to Jihan, a source of power he never mentioned in this afflicted Mageguild.
The girl, composing herself with obvious effort, said, "Parrots, fleas, and squirrel bunions, m'lords Hazard-a stew, if it pleases."
"What?" snapped the harried First Hazard. Then, when the girl covered her mouth under widening eyes, continued: "Never mind the accursed menu, get out of here. And keep everyone else away until the dinner bell. Go on, girl, go!" As she scurried backwards, a clomping of hoofbeats could be heard, followed by a sound like porcelain crashing on a marble floor.
And then, through the great double doors whence the girl had just fled, a horse and rider came.
The horseman hadn't dismounted; the horse had eyes of fiery intelligence and pricked its ears at Randal. Its coat was mottled, red and black and gray, but there was no mistaking it: It was the Tros horse of his commander. Through a fit of sneezing he miserably endured, Randal hurried forward, saying,
"My lord commander, welcome, welcome."
And the First Hazard,
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