He realized palace servants and minor Kingdom officials passing by were taking notice of him. If he was going to dither, he might as well do it while going somewhere. He knew a place near the merchants quarters where he could both dine and arrange for certain agents to find him. He turned towards the grand entrance and the outer gates of the palace.
It had been nearly a year since he had been in Rillanon, and while his grandfathers loyal agents had most of the city under observation, it was clear there was what, as Kaseem Abu Hazara-Khan his opposite number in Kesh had observed, another player in the game. If Lady Franciezka Sorbozs spy ring in Roldem had been compromised, and Jims in the Kingdom crippled, Kaseems had been utterly destroyed. When last Jim had seen him he had been a hunted man. No doubt he was secreted away somewhere until he could safely resurface or give up any hope of continuing in service to the Empire. If the latter and he could safely reach his people in the Jal-Pur desert, he might live to old age as a nameless tribesman. Jim considered that last option very problematical given how far Kaseem had to travel to reach the safety of his familys camp.
Jim reached the steps leading down into the palace courtyard and made straight for the small personal entrance, the size of an ordinary door set into the large, ornate iron gate that guarded the entrance to the palace grounds. The large gates, opened to admit detachments of horse and large carriages, was closed as a rule, but now he was surprised to find the small gate also barred and two guards posted before it.
Sir? one challenged him as he approached.
Im James Jameson, the Dukes grandson. I thought Id get out in the city and stretch my legs a bit.
The guard nodded. Well enough, sir. If you can show us your pass.
Pass? Jims face darkened. Since when does a member of the royal court need a pass to enter and leave the palace grounds?
Since the order was posted this morning, sir. You need a pass signed by the Viceroys office.
Viceroy?
Youve not heard, sir? said the guard in affable tones. Why, this very morning the King named his friend Sir William Alcorn Viceroy, to help him run things until the old duke, I mean your grandfather, is back on his feet. Orders came down with the changing of the guard; no one in or out without the Viceroys approval.
Pushing aside his sense of outrage, Jim forced a smile. That must be it, then. I came in late last night, exhausted, and slept in until meeting with my grandfather. Ill go at once to Sir Williams office and see to the matter. Carry on. Jim turned and marched back towards the palace steps.
There was only one possible reason for the new requirement for a pass: Sir William had decided to limit the comings and goings of those in the royal household, including the Dukes staff. Had his grandfather been fit, Jim had no doubt that pass requirement would not have lasted more than a half-day, but his grandfather was soundly sleeping after being forced to imbibe a sleeping draught by the royal chirurgeon.
Jim knew it would be suspicious if he didnt put in an appearance at Sir Williams office, but he didnt feel the need to go straight away. He had a half-dozen ways to leave the palace whenever he wished, and no doubt Sir William knew about two or three of them.
First he needed to find Anne and send her on a little errand and then make a quick check on his grandfather. And he desperately needed to get something to eat. He was starving, having not eaten for nearly three days. If they hadnt cleared the tray out of his room, hed eat whatever was there, no matter how cold, dried out, or stale it might be.
His frustration gave way to a rare flight of fancy. His tasks would have been so much easier if hed had a magician on his staff, someone like Magnus who could just transport him to one place or another. That returned Jim to thinking about his last visit to Sorcerers Isle and he wondered how Pug was getting on with uncovering his own personal nest of traitors.
As he climbed the wide steps into the palace that thought sent a new chill down Jims back: should Pugs problems turn out to be as grave as his own, the consequences of what he faced was probably far more dire than the situation here. For if Jim failed in his tasks, his King and the conDoin dynasty might fall, perhaps even the Kingdom of the Isles in its entirety, but should Pug fail
Jim shoved aside the thought. He didnt want to contemplate what might happen to this entire world if Pug should fail.
Pug sat quietly, his face an unreadable mask as he listened to the debate taking place on the floor of the Academy Council. A strange sense of deja vu struck him for a brief moment: the Academy was becoming more like the Assembly of Magicians on Kelewan where he had trained.
Currently there appeared to be four groups represented among the members, groups that had formed around the teachings of three men, each reflecting a different philosophy, and a fourth, uncommitted, faction. Pug realized that of those in attendance, he was the only person who had actually known those three men. Two of them had been his students, Korsh and Watoom, two very talented magicians of Keshian ancestry. The third faction had been influenced by his close friend for years, Nakor. He wondered what his old friend might think of what had become of the Academy were he alive to see it.
A tall, slender magician named Natiba stood and addressed the twenty members of the council. The Wand of Watoom has met in caucus and we have weighed the warning carried to us by Pug. He bowed slightly in Pugs direction.
As founder of the Academy on Stardock Island, land once ceded him by the Crown of the Kingdom of the Isles, Pug was viewed with veneration but since he had renounced his loyalty to the Kingdom and given Stardock and the Academy autonomy, he was also viewed with some suspicion, an unspoken concern he might some day choose to attempt to reclaim the school of magicians and the town of Stardock.
Pug appeared ageless, looking much as he had for the last century and more, with his dark hair and beard. He was slender and short, but had a wiry strength, an aura of toughness and resilience. He might be the single most powerful magician on this world though he considered his son Magnus might soon surpass him, if he had not already but he had begun life as an orphan kitchen-boy in far-off Crydee Keep and had endured four years as a slave on the Tsurani home world of Kelewan. He was no lifelong academic.
Pug had seen death and destruction on a scale unimaginable to nearly every other magic-user in attendance and considered this current debate trivial, pointless, and a waste of time. Yet he endured it, because he honoured his pledge and would let events take their natural course.
The Wand of Watoom was one of the two Keshian-dominated factions in the Academy, the other being the Hands of Korsh. Watoom had been a Keshian, but not a Trueblood, like Korsh had been. The difference between those friends had evolved two groups, who were both conservative by nature. The Wand was by far the more cautious and reactive of the two, keeping themselves focused on internal matters almost to the exclusion of the outside world. The Hands of Korsh was still conservative in its outlook, but was more inclined to take active part in events beyond the Island of Stardock.
The third faction called themselves the Blue Riders in honour of one of Nakors more colourful affectations: a grand blue robe that had been a gift to him from the Empress of Kesh. That and a beautiful black stallion he had ridden like a madman until it died. The Blue Riders believed there was no magic, and that anyone could learn tricks, so they were constantly at odds with the other two factions. They were far more progressive and believed in an active, ongoing engagement with the outside world.
As usual the Hands were the swing faction, standing between the Riders and the Wand, with the uncommitted members likely to bring matters to a resolution. The topic being debated was the warning Pug had just delivered to the Council regarding the demon incursion into Midkemia and the possible threat posed from them and the forces behind the demons, the Dread.
The debate had been taking the better part of a day, and for Pug it had been tedium piled upon pointlessness. He had arrived the night before and conferred with the senior members of the Council, called the Administration: five members, one from each of the three named factions and a further two selected from the undecided members. Pug did not like the idea of any faction having automatic placement on such a body, it reeked too much of the party politics that had plagued much of the Empire of Tsuranuanni for centuries, but he forced himself to remain silent on all matters of governance over the Academy. For it to be truly independent, he must merely be seen as another magician.
Natiba finished his remarks, like many of those before merely a rehash of positions already argued, as if some members felt the need to speak even if only to reiterate what had already been said, in case they somehow might lose position or prestige in this council by staying silent.
Another magician rose and was given the floor. Pug was pleased to see this one was dressed in a plain brown robe, making him look like a mendicant friar of one of the temple orders rather than a magician. Too many of the magicians here, especially those in the conservative orders, affected the black robes similar to those worn by the Tsurani Great Ones. Pug absently wondered how much of that was due to his own choice to wear those garments, to constantly remind him of how he had come to be the Black Sorcerer.
The magician in brown said, I am distressed that so many of our brothers and sisters are determined to continually revisit the same points without any apparent progress in reaching a conclusion we can, at least, debate. So, I will make this proposal and ask the Administration to put it before the membership and call for a vote.
I ask that we agree that Pug would not have come to us save in the face of the most dire threat and that time must be counted as a critical issue. Moreover, without a clear purpose as to where we can best lend our talents to protect our world from the demon threat and the Dread-, as he said that, the young magician glanced at Pug with an expression that suggested he wasnt willing quite yet to believe that such a horror could exist, let alone threaten this world, -we should consider making a plan to answer any call Pug might make and how best to do that.