Read Online The Rite by Richard Lee Byers - Free Book Online Page B

pride to admit it outright.”
    “He’s changed it for now,” Phourkyn said. “If another of our wyrms goes mad, he’ll change it back again, and pleading won’t sway him. You should have let me teach him some respect.”
    “I’m sorry,” Firefingers said, “that’s not how things are done in my home.”
    “Has it occurred to anyone,” asked Scattercloak, “that Gelduth Blackturret may have a point?”
    Firefingers’s faded blue eyes narrowed beneath their scraggly white brows. “How do you mean?”
    “To dissuade the Watchlord,” Scattercloak said, “Maestro Nightwind made us out to be invincible dragon slayers. But the truth is, the brass might have killed us all if he and his companion hadn’t intervened.”
    Jivex preened at this acknowledgment of his valor. “I was right,” Phourkyn said, “you are a coward.”
    “Only idiots,” the shrouded wizard said, “have no fear of dragons.”
    Some of his fellows muttered in agreement.
    “It was a fluke,” said Rilitar, “that Samdralyrion snapped precisely when he did.”
    “Perhaps we can look forward to more such flukes,” said a small, plump wizard clad all in white with azure trim, “considering that the Rage keeps waxing stronger. What if we do welcome a dragon into town, it goes mad and kills an innocent, and everyone holds us responsible? I fled here after deserting the Cloaks, with half of Mulmaster on my tail. Thentia is my sanctuary. I don’t want the nobles to cast me out.”
    From the murmur of sympathy, Taegan gathered that a good many of the wizards were, for all their arcane might, fugitives and refugees of one sort or another.
    “You presumably don’t want scores of dragons to destroy Thentia, either,” Rilitar said.
    “That might never happen,” said one of the silver-robed priestesses.
    “Or it may,” Taegan said, “unless you prevent it.”
    “But can we?” Scattercloak replied. “So far, we’ve made little progress.”
    As Kara and the other seekers recover more information,” the bladesinger said, “that will change.”
    “We don’t know that,” said the magician in white. “All we do know is that one of us has already died investigating this matter, and that many more could have perished yesterday.”
    Phourkyn made a spitting sound. “True wizards are willing to risk their lives to discover new lore.”
    Taegan turned to Rilitar and whispered, “Who died, and how?”
    “Her name was Lissa Uvarrk,” Rilitar said, “a gnome, quite adept at transmutation. She was working alone at home when, as best we can judge, she called up a spirit that slipped the leash. It ripped her apart and burned her, too.” Then one of Scattercloak’s remarks snagged his attention, and he leaned forward, eager to refute it.
    The argument rambled on for a couple more minutes, growing steadily more contentious, until the warlocks were shouting all at once. Finally Firefingers rose from his ornately carved high-backed chair and snapped the fingers of both hands. A spherical blast of flame exploded above his head. The flash was blinding, the boom, deafening. Startled, everyone else fell silent.
    “We made a promise,” the old man said, “to aid Karasendrieth, and I intend to honor it. A great deal—perhaps even the fate of the world—depends on it. If you’re the wizards I think you are, you’ll do the same. If not, then all you need do to keep yourselves safe—until a dragon flight targets Thentia, anyway—is refuse to help any further. No one can force you. But if anyone does intend to turn his back on this enterprise, do it now. Leave my house, and don’t come back. You won’t be welcome in the future.”
    Taegan could see that Firefingers had timed his ultimatum well. Despite all the complaints and misgivings, nobody had yet mustered the resolve to walk out, and so everyone stayed put. For the moment. Firefingers gave them all a grandfatherly smile.
    “Splendid. I knew I could count on you. Hurry and eat, your meal is