LITMIR.BIZ

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have lain neglected in the bowels of this citadel since the defeated remnant of the Salka host took refuge in these forsaken isles. The work was very difficult, even though I am fairly fluent in your language. But I persevered. I succeeded. And now I propose to share my hard-won knowledge of the Potency with you.’ Beynor paused. ‘As is only just, I ask something in return for my labors.’

      ‘Now we come to the heart of the matter!’ exclaimed the Supreme Warrior, with a vicious clash of teeth. ‘He intends to trick us in some fashion, as the wretch Rothbannon did! Kalawnn – explain how this miscreant was able to pry into our sacred archives. How long have you been aware of this alleged discovery?’

      ‘Calm yourself, Ugusawnn,’ the Master Shaman replied equably. ‘I myself gave Beynor leave to investigate the Unknown Potency’s history not long after his arrival. Why not, since our own scholars seemed unaccountably tepid in their reaction to the precious sigil’s return? As to Beynor’s discovery, he told me of it just hours ago, saying he had finally marshaled sufficient evidence to support his hypothesis. I commanded him to wait on us Four without delay and explain everything.’

      ‘And now the insolent groundling thinks he can barter his so-called knowledge!’ roared the Warrior. ‘I say he should be tortured until the truth is wrung out of him!’

      ‘The journeyman is deserving of his wage,’ said Beynor, who seemed unfazed by the threat. ‘Forgive my saying so, Eminences, but your shamans – with the shining exception of Master Kalawnn – are a timid and lazy lot, fearful of arcane matters outside the range of their limited experience. They flatly refused to help with my researches, so I undertook them alone, working for four years under conditions inimical to human good health. Eventually I uncovered the Potency’s secrets. It may no longer be called Unknown, Eminences! I know its true nature. And while the Great Lights have forbidden me to empower it – or any other sigil – they have not constrained you Salka. I’m willing to show you how to bring the stone to life. What’s more, with my help, this one small moonstone can restore to you your lost homeland on High Blenholme island, avenging your defeat by Emperor Bazekoy.’

      ‘Astounding, if true,’ said the First Judge. He was a rotund personage who snacked on tidbits from the refreshment table as he observed Beynor through shrewd, half-closed eyes.

      The ancient Conservator of Wisdom whispered, ‘If there is the least chance that the groundling does speak the truth, we must weigh his proposition.’

      ‘I am truthful,’ Beynor stated. ‘And I’ll reveal everything I know if you pledge to help me attain my own heart’s goal.’

      The Supreme Warrior gingerly replaced the precious piece of moonstone on its golden stand and loomed over the young man. Two boneless arms as thick as beech trunks, each having four digits armed with daggerlike talons, reached out in menace as the Salka general spoke with ominous gentleness. ‘You’ll tell what you know without making demands, carrion-worm, or I will first disjoint your limbs piecemeal, then slowly slice open your belly and consume your throbbing entrails while you watch with dying eyes.’

      ‘That will do, Ugusawnn,’ said the Conservator of Wisdom. He was an individual of wizened stature, plainly infirm and weighted with years, but his red eyes burned with an authority that quelled the Supreme Warrior like an upstart child. ‘Please resume your place. I will question the former Conjure-King of Moss myself.’

      ‘Huh!’ said Ugusawnn. But he crawled obediently back to his slimy kelp couch as the Conservator beckoned for Beynor to come closer.

      ‘It pains me to speak loudly, groundling. But listening to lies pains me even more. Do you swear by your human God to tell me the truth about the Unknown Potency, on peril of damnation to the Hell of Ice?’

      ‘I do indeed, Eminence.’

      But not all of the truth…no more than I told it to Kilian!

      ‘Then say first what favors you seek in return for your discovery.’

      Beynor took a breath. ‘My principal desire is vengeance upon my evil sister Ullanoth and her accomplice Conrig Wincantor, the Sovereign of Blenholme. They conspired to humiliate me and steal my throne, and are ultimately responsible for my losing the friendship of the Beaconfolk. To achieve the ruin of these two persons I would renounce all hope of ever ruling Moss – or any part of High Blenholme Island. Instead, I offer to restore your original homeland to you, after which I intend to pursue my own destiny on the Southern Continent.’

      ‘He offers Blenholme to us!’ the Supreme Warrior scoffed. ‘As though he ruled it rather than Conrig’s Sovereignty.’

      ‘The Unknown Potency can enable your army to destroy both the Sovereign and my sister,’ Beynor said. ‘With my help.’

      ‘Tell us how,’ the First Judge demanded, picking his glassy teeth with one talon and examining the result with a frown.

      ‘Before I do that, I require tangible proof of your goodwill. It’s only just, Eminences – and my request isn’t difficult to fulfill. As a first step in subverting Conrig’s Sovereignty, I believe we must undermine his control in the region where the island is most vulnerable: the vassal kingdom of Didion. Didion is a keystone state whose lands adjoin those of the other three realms. It is susceptible to a Salka sea invasion from the east, the west, and most especially from the north, through the Green Morass. Its king, Honigalus, is a weakling, but he is unswervingly loyal to Conrig.’

      ‘What has this to do with us?’ the Conservator hissed impatiently.

      ‘As the first step in achieving my revenge, and your reconquest of Blenholme, I ask you to help me assassinate Honigalus, his three children, and his wife, who stand in line to the throne. If this is done, the king’s younger brother will inherit – a hothead prince named Somarus who is violently opposed to the Sovereignty. I’m very well acquainted with Somarus and his ambitions. He’s highly susceptible to my coercion. And if this princely creature of mine were perceived by neighboring Tarn to be a legitimate heir to the throne and not a fratricidal usurper as would be assured if Salka were clearly seen to be responsible for his brother’s death – then Sernin Donorvale and the Sealords of Tarn would have no scruples about allying with Didion in an attempt to throw off Conrig’s hated dominion. The Sovereignty would be plunged into chaotic war, making it easy for your own army to seize the advantage.’

      ‘It sounds like a clever scheme, if somewhat convoluted.’ The Conservator of Wisdom spoke wistfully. ‘But history has shown that our fighters have not the physical agility nor the military competence to withstand human beings on land. This is why most of us have remained in the Dawntide Isles for these many centuries, only venturing to attack the groundlings on rare occasions, from the sea…and why the Salka who still dwell in Blenholme’s Little Fen and the northern estuaries inhabited by humans live furtive, inconspicuous lives.’

      Beynor said, ‘The high sorcery of the Known Potency will make you superior to any weapon humanity can wield, be it natural or supernatural.’

      ‘Tell us how this can be,’ said the First Judge. He uncorked a flask and poured a viscous fluid into a gold cup, sniffed it, and took a tentative lap. His tongue was purple, and nearly the length of Beynor’s forearm.

      The young sorcerer strode to the golden tripod and cupped his hands beneath the inactive sigil. ‘Look upon it, Eminences! Apparently naught but a finely carved little stone ribbon, twisted to resemble a figure eight. But a finger slid along its surface discovers that the thing has but a single side and a single edge! A twofold wonder…’

      ‘Do not touch the Potency!’ the Supreme Warrior bellowed. ‘Never touch it again!’ Beynor froze but did not flinch. After a moment, he let his hands fall to his sides and withdrew from the tripod, smiling.

      ‘Continue,’ said Master Kalawnn, with a reproachful glance at his colleague.

      Beynor nodded. ‘Properly conjured, this small object defies the Beaconfolk’s control of their own sorcery. It forces them to yield up arcane power through moonstone sigils without causing pain to the conjurer. The mere touch of the

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