Glamour of the God-Touched Read Free Page B

for
all.
    That had to be the plan, right?
    They smelled, after all. These Koradictines.
They were pompous, and overbearing, and out of control—far too
willing to take risks. A group totally without discipline, without
a finger of respect for the art of their spell work itself. You
couldn’t rely upon them to throw a decent spell if Hezarin herself
were to do the casting. Just the idea of his Lectodinians taking
seconds from the Koradictines made Elman’s stomach clench.
    So, yes. Lectodinian leadership would
eventually turn to the Koradictine problem. He was as sure of this
as he was about the fact that the night chill was growing
uncomfortable.
    He glanced toward Dorfort. It was unlikely
the city’s guard would patrol this far away so late at night, but
it was better to be wary than be taken by surprise.
    “Come on, Oldhamid,” he said. “Let’s not
waste the evening.”
    Oldhamid, the Koradictine captain assigned
to this mission, finally spurred his horse to Elman’s side. He wore
a maroon tunic, black cloth breeches, and a floppy-brimmed hat that
made him look like a farmer. A slim dagger glinted from his
belt.
    “Are your men ready, yet?” Elman asked.
    “Patience, my friend,” Oldhamid said with
enough spite that Elman knew the Koradictine shared his feelings
toward their working arrangement. “This Torean is strong, and he’s
not going anywhere. He will be just as dead by morning, regardless
of when we begin. It will go best if we are properly prepared.”
    Elman hid his grimace. Had he sunk so far as
to be lectured by a Koradictine?
    This whole fiasco had done nothing for him
beyond searing the true depth of differences between the
Koradictine and Lectodinian orders into his mind.
    Not that he needed the lesson.
    The orders had split in the days after Corid
de’Mayer’s rule—when the two most powerful mages of the time,
Koradic and Lectodine, couldn’t agree on how to control magic.
Lectodine wanted a hierarchy that monitored mages closely, and he
proposed even to tax the triggering of each wizard as they came of
age. Koradic had no respect for such structure, preferring each
superior make decisions to trigger mages on their own but being
held accountable through severe punishment for errors of judgment
whenever such was discovered.
    And that was just the beginning of their
differences.
    The Koradictine approach was obviously
insane. It was sloppy.
    Elman saw that in the Koradictines
surrounding him today. Their magic was powerful, but their training
was all over the map—meaning they cast their spells with such
variability it made your head spin.
    If the stories Elman heard were true, the
orders were working together now only because neither one trusted
the other enough to remove the Torean problem by themselves, and
because neither one wanted to give the other the advantage of any
new sorceries discovered in the process. That story made as much
sense as anything.
    “Have you briefed your mages on the plan?”
Elman finally said.
    “Such as it is.”
    The rounded slope of the hillside rose
before them, its ridge giving way to the Torean’s manor. Oldhamid
was right about the mage—he was known to be strong, but he would
also be tired after a long day. With twelve mages at hand, this job
should be easy—if, that is, the Koradictines carried their
weight.
    “Be sure your men break the wards,” he said.
“And let them know there’ll be blood to pay if they don’t set a
reasonable blaze along the stables. I don’t want to lose his
apprentices.”
    Oldhamid nodded. “We understand.”
    “Good. Let’s move.”
    Elman motioned his men to join him. Oldhamid
did the same.
    An invisible weight lifted from Elman’s
shoulders as the mission began. It was good to be doing
something.
    He would be glad when the Torean wizard was
dead.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter 4

     
    Something was definitely wrong.
    Garrick sat at the dinner table, wearing an
over-large work