‘The power, the sheer scope of the energies you used . . . you could have destroyed the Emerald Queen and her pitiful band of Pantathians as I could step on an anthill! Why has this war gone on so long, Pug? Why haven’t you acted to stop it?’
Pug sighed. ‘Because, like ants, those that survived would only scurry off into the dark and begin again. And there’s more.’
‘What?’ asked Miranda.
From the door, Macros said, ‘Nothing we can speak of here, not yet. Pug, it’s too dangerous.’
Pug indicated an empty chair and the freshly bathed sorcerer sat and took the cup that was waiting for him. Macros wore a borrowed robe, black instead of his usual brown. After a long sip he said, ‘Excellent. There are advantages, after all, to being alive.’
Nakor said, ‘I’m Nakor.’
Macros’s eyes narrowed. He studied Nakor’s face a moment, then recognition dawned. ‘The Isalani! I know you. You cheated me at cards once.’
‘I’m the one.’ With enough emotion to almost bring tears to his eyes, Nakor admitted, ‘You were my greatest challenge.’ He turned to Pug. ‘I was wrong when I said Macros wouldn’t remember me.’
Macros pointed at Nakor. ‘That scoundrel did the only thing he could: he made me think he was using magic so when I erected my defenses he could manipulate the cards with simple sleight of hand.’
‘Sleight of hand?’ said Pug.
‘He stacked the deck!’ Macros said with a laugh.
‘Not really,’ said Nakor modestly. ‘I switched the cards and slipped in a cold deck.’
‘Will you stop it!’ exclaimed Miranda, slamming her hand on the table. ‘This is not some reunion of dear friends. This is . . .’
‘What?’ asked Pug.
‘I don’t know. We’re trying to save the world, and you’re reminiscing about card games.’
Pug saw Sho Pi in the doorway, and he motioned for the young man to close the door, leaving the four of them in privacy. Sho Pi nodded, shut the door, and left.
Pug said, ‘First, I’d like to ask about this relationship. Seems you all have ties I knew nothing about.’
Macros said, ‘To all of you.’
Pug suddenly looked alarmed. ‘Don’t tell me I’m your unacknowledged son.’ He glanced at Miranda and saw his concern mirrored on her face.
‘You can relax,’ said Macros. ‘You’re not her brother.’ He sighed. ‘But when I said you were as much a son to me as any I have fathered, I meant it.’ He sipped his wine and remembered. ‘When you were born, I sensed greatness in you, lad. You were the son of a maid in Crydee, and a wandering soldier. But as the Tsurani sense power in children and train them to the Assembly, I saw you had greatness, perhaps more than any living magician in this world.’
‘And you did what?’ asked Nakor.
‘I unlocked that magic. Else how could Pug have come to the Greater Magic?’
‘Sarig?’ asked Pug.
Macros nodded. ‘I am his creature.’
‘Sarig?’ said Nakor. ‘I thought he was a legend.’
‘He is,’ said Miranda, ‘and a dead god, to boot. But he’s obviously not as dead as some think.’
Pug said, ‘Why don’t you start at the beginning.’
‘And this time, the truth,’ added Miranda.
Macros shrugged. ‘The story I told you and Tomas, to while away the time we spent in the Garden of the City Forever was a far more entertaining one than the truth, Pug.
‘I was nothing as a child. A city boy from a distant land-’
‘Stop it!’ said Miranda. ‘You’re doing it again, Father!’ Macros sighed. ‘Very well, I was born in the city of Kesh. My father was a tailor and my mother a wonderful person, a woman who managed my father’s accounts, kept an orderly house, and raised a willful and disobedient son. My father had many rich merchants among his clientele and we lived well enough.’ Looking at his daughter, he said, ‘Satisfied?’ She nodded.
‘But I developed a taste for adventure, or at least for rough company. When I was little more than a lad, I went on a trip with some of my friends, without the knowledge or blessings of my parents. We bought a map, one reputed to show the location of a lost treasure.’
Nakor nodded. ‘Slavers.’
Macros said, ‘Yes. It was a trap to lure foolish boys who would end up on the Durbin slave block.’
‘How long ago was this?’ asked Pug.
‘Nearly five hundred years ago,’ said Macros. ‘At the height of the Empire’s power.
‘I escaped the slavers and hid in the mountains, but I became lost. Almost dead from starvation I found an ancient, abandoned temple. Half delirious, I collapsed on the altar and prayed to whatever god ruled that shrine to save me, in exchange for which I’d serve him.’