Tomas said, “Until he was no longer able. It may be someone had reason to visit the island. Pirates or Quegan raiders?”
“Or agents of Murmandamus?” Pug visibly sagged. “I had hoped we would discover some clue from Gathis to begin our search for Macros.” Pug looked about and spied a stone bench before the wall. Sitting down, he said, “We don’t even know if Macros lives yet. How are we to find him?”
Tomas stood in front of his friend, towering over him. He placed one boot upon the bench and leaned forward, crossed arms resting upon his knee. “It is also possible this castle is deserted because Macros has already returned and left again.”
Pug looked up. “Perhaps. There is a spell . . . a spell of the Lesser Path.”
Tomas said, “As I understood such things -”
Pug interrupted. “I have learned many things at Elvardein. Let me try this.” He closed his eyes and incanted, his words soft and low as he directed his mind into a path still strange to it as often as not. Suddenly his eyes snapped open. “There’s some sort of ensorcellment upon this castle. The stones - they’re not right.”
Tomas looked at Pug, a question unspoken in his eyes.
Pug rose and touched the stones. “I used a spell that should have gleaned information from the very walls. Whatever occurs near an object leaves faint traces, energies that impact it. With skill, they can be read as you or I would read a scribe’s writings. It is difficult but possible. But these stones show nothing. It is as if no living being had ever passed through this hall.” Suddenly Pug turned toward the doors. “Come!” he commanded.
Tomas fell in beside his friend as Pug walked out to the heart of the courtyard. There he halted, raising his hands above his head. Tomas could feel mighty energies forming about them as Pug gathered power. Then Pug closed his eyes and spoke, rapidly and in a tongue both odd and familiar to Tomas. Then Pug’s eyes opened and he said, “Let the truth be revealed!”
As if a ripple moved outward, with Pug at the centre, Tomas found his vision shifting. The very air shimmered and on one side there was the abandoned castle, but as the ripple passed, the court was revealed as well tended. The circle widened rapidly as the illusion was dispelled, and suddenly Tomas discovered they were in an orderly courtyard. Nearby a strange creature was carrying a bundle of firewood. He halted, surprise evident upon his nonhuman face, and dropped the bundle.
Tomas had begun to draw his sword, but Pug said, “No,” placing a restraining hand upon his arm.
“But it’s a mountain troll!”
“Gathis told us Macros employed many servants, judging each upon its own merits.”
The startled creature, broad-shouldered, long-fanged, and fearsome in appearance, turned and ran in a stooping, apelike fashion toward a door in the outer wall. Another creature, nothing either man had seen upon this world, exited the stable and halted. It was only three feet tall and had a muzzle like a bear, but its fur was red-gold. Seeing the two humans regarding it, it set aside the broom it carried and slowly backed into the stable door. Pug watched until it was out of sight. Cupping his hands about his mouth, Pug cried, “Gathis!”
Almost instantly, the doors to the great hall opened and a well dressed goblin-like creature appeared. Taller than a goblin, he possessed the thick ridges above the eyes and large nose of the goblin tribe, but his features were somehow more noble, his movements more graceful. Attired in blue singlet and leggings, with a yellow doublet and black boots, he hurried down the steps and bowed before the two men. With a sibilance to his speech, he said, “Welcome, Master Pug.” He studied Tomas. “This, then, would be Master Tomas?”
Tomas and Pug exchanged glances. Then Pug said, “We seek your master.”
Gathis seemed to look distressed. “That may prove a bit of a problem, Master Pug. As best as I can ascertain, Macros no longer exists.”
Pug sipped at his wine. Gathis had brought them to a chamber where refreshments were provided. The steward of the castle refused to sit, standing opposite the two men as they listened to his story.
“So, as I said when last we spoke, Master Pug, between the Black One and myself there is an understanding. I can sense his . . . state of being? Somehow I know he is always out there, somewhere. About a month after you left, I awoke one night suddenly feeling the absence of that . . . contact. It was most disturbing.”
“Then Macros is dead,” said Tomas.
Gathis sighed, in a very human way. “I am afraid so. If not, he is somewhere so alien and remote it amounts to little difference.”
Pug considered in silence, while Tomas said, “Then who fashioned that illusion?”