The Steward and the Sorcerer James Peart (read my book .TXT) 📖

When Mereka left them alone, he turned on the Druid.  “You can twist your words to mean anything you like, but the fact remains that you deceived us both into thinking you were stripped of your power.  When were you going to tell us your magic had come back?”

Daaynan lifted his hand in a warding gesture.  “When it became relevant, as it just did.  I still can’t return you to England- there is no other fire I can summon which can achieve this- though there is hope.  Allow me to explain.  My power is as of this moment uncertain.  It is mixing with that of the King, has been doing so ever since he grabbed hold of me back in Fein Mor.  As such I am wary of exploring its full range though I can tell you it has been enhanced in some indeterminate way.”

“Maybe,” Simon interrupted, frowning, “the grey fire is a result of the combination of your two magics.  If it can transform Mereka from man to woman, something you did not tell us you could do before, perhaps it can also send us home.”

“No, Englishman, it is not that.  The grey fire can merely transform others’ appearance, not transport them to another reality.”

“Have you tried it before?”

The Druid shook his head.

“Then how do you know it can’t be done?”

“Because I feel it.  I feel its strength and sense of purpose deep within me, seeking direction and focus.  This is so with all the others.  What has changed and what I am trying to tell you is that Iridis’s magic has somehow extended this strength and range.  It started in Fein Mor and the process- this change- is not yet complete.  It may be that, given enough time, the green flame will become so powerful that it can take you past the temple to your world.  I can feel the King inside me.  His magic dwarfs my own.  It transforms everything it touches.”

“Well, what about the grey fire?  If it can transform shape and looks, as you say, surely you don’t need Christopher to impersonate Longfellow when we reach Brinemore, fool him that way?  You can use the fire on yourself, just as you would on Mereka.”

“The grey fire cannot replicate form, only approximate form.  I can’t control what looks Mereka will have or what shape.”

“Does Mereka know this?”  Simon studied the Druid’s face.  “Of course he doesn’t.  You’ll simply change him into God knows what and he’ll be forced to live with the consequences the rest of his days.  You really are a piece of work, Daaynan.”  He looked away.

“This piece of work might be your only chance of getting back home,” the Druid answered in a low voice, almost a hiss, as Mereka appeared before them once again.  The Shiftling looked sombre, withdrawn, his mind someplace else.  He regarded everyone in turn then spoke quietly.  “I have decided,” he told the assembled company.  “I wish to undergo the transformation.”

“Are you sure?” Daaynan asked, already reading the answer in the other’s expression.  Mereka just nodded.  “Then tell us how to find this Carrion bird.”

“There is a man in Carasan known as Drett Peers.  He lives near to here.  He works in a tavern in the town of Dhu Nor which is four hours journey from Carasan and it is from there that he deals in rare items, including animals that are hard to source in the Northern Earth.  He trades them for money or services, depending on his needs at any given time.  He can locate a Carrion bird for you but you must have something to trade.  Before you mention it, Druid, magic does not interest him.”

“Then we’re lost,” Simon said.

“No.”  Mereka was holding a small leather pouch in one hand.  He emptied its content into the other.  It looked like a diamond of some description, immaculately cut save for a single red flaw in its centre.  It reflected the light provided by the window of the room in a dazzling array of colours, the red flaw pulsing, perhaps in reaction to the heat in Mereka’s hand.

“What is it?” Daaynan asked him.

“It is a Meta Crystal.  A remnant of the old world when the Northern Earth was not separated from the lands that used to surround it.  It protects the wearer against any form of sorcery.  That, and the fact that it is relic of an old age and is thus priceless.  I’m giving it to you to trade with Drett Peers for the bird.”  He handed it over to the Druid.  Simon and Christopher thanked him while Daaynan nodded his gratitude and understanding.  “You must tell us where this Drett Peers is now,” he said to Mereka.

“Come, I will take you to his home.”

They gathered their sparse belongings and Mereka led them outside.  They walked back in the direction they had come, negotiating the maze of narrow, crowded streets, turning right and left, sometimes turning onto larger roads, avoiding those that tapered into lanes that stopped at a dead end.  The buildings seemed to lean inward, their facades grimed with dirt, towering and forbidding, cutting off their view of the sky.  They crossed yet another street which took them into a park and Simon noticed the pagoda and garden at its centre that he had seen on his way to Mereka’s house.  The arrangement of flowers in it was stunning: Orchids, mixed with Lilies and Dahlias and a collection of wild plants of every conceivable design scattered around the perimeter of the various beds.  The homes surrounding the park were bright and clean, and made of expensive stone.  Mereka stopped in front of one of them and rapped briefly on a large panel in the door.

While they waited Simon asked him who the houses belonged to.  “The town elders, for the most part,” Mereka answered.  “They built Carasan, transformed it from a few huts around the Tun (that’s the river south of here) to a busy working town with merchants and traders operating all over