“Such academic considerations are of little interest to those who die, I’m afraid.”
“True, but you see, it’s important. If they can do that, why can’t forces we can’t see in our normal frame of reference not be able to reach out and manipulate energy here in our world?”
“Where are we going with this?” asked Miranda, betraying impatience.
“What was the Lifestone like when you last visited the Oracle?” asked Pug.
“What do you mean?”
“Did it appear as it always did?”
“I don’t know.” Miranda looked puzzled. “It’s the only time I’ve ever seen it.”
“But there was something odd about it, wasn’t there?”
Miranda shrugged. “I had a feeling . . .”
“That the Valheru trapped inside were somehow doing something.”
Miranda had a faraway look. “Stirring. I think that’s what I said. They were stirring more than usual.”
“I fear they may have found a way to interact directly with someone or some group within the Pantathian community. Perhaps with this so-called Emerald Queen who now leads them.”
“That’s a chilling thought.”
Pug said, “There is, something few know. Have you heard of Macros the Black?”
Miranda said, “By reputation.” Her tone was dry, and Pug assumed she didn’t believe the inflated tales about the Black Sorcerer.
“Much of what he did was theatrics, but much was an order of magic beyond even my understanding today. He was able to do things with time that I can only speculate on, for one example.”
Her eyes narrowed at that. “Time travel?”
“More. Tomas and I were trapped in a time well with him and we traveled to the dawn of time and returned. But he could use his mind and will across eons.”
“How do you mean?”
“He used his skills and powers to fashion a relationship between Tomas, a boyhood friend of mine, and Ashen-Shugar—”
“The Valheru whose armor he wears!” supplied Miranda.
“It was never a simple case of an ancient magic lingering in a mystic suit of armor. Macros used that armor as a vehicle for his own manipulation of my friend, centuries later, so he could act as he did during the Riftwar.”
“That wily bastard,” muttered Miranda.
“What if Tomas’s armor isn’t the only vehicle for such manipulation?”
Miranda’s eyes grew wide. “Is it possible?”
“Of course it’s possible,” said Pug. “The older I get, the more certain I become that there is very little that isn’t possible.”
Miranda stood up and began to pace the tiny room. “How would we know?”
“We wait for Calis to return, or somehow get word to us. When last I saw Nakor I asked him to travel with Calis if possible, for he is uniquely suited to spying out this sort of problem. I suggested the possibility I just spoke of to you more than three years ago. Now that you tell me he’s gone with Calis, I am content to wait until they return. And we keep out of sight until then, so as not to provide the Pantathians with a target.
“I could protect myself for a while, as you can, I am sure, but constantly having to defend myself would prove wearisome and divert me from certain studies.”
Miranda nodded. “What was that business of the clue and the rest, with the Hall of Worlds and the City of the Gods, all about, anyway?”
“I wanted a way to keep to myself and yet be found if someone with the wit and talent needed to find me. Had you gone prowling the Hall, asking questions on any number of worlds, well, you would have encountered difficulty.”
“I was warned of your assassins,” she countered.
“Who told you?”
“It was the gossip of the day at Honest John’s.”
Pug said, “The next time I hire someone for a quiet undertaking, I think I will avoid the Inn.
“Who directed you to Mustafa’s?”
“Boldar Blood.”
“When you left Mustafa, I went ahead to the mountains to wait for you. The simple trick of telling you to go somewhere else was my last trick.” He smiled. “Had you not proved so agreeable a guest, I would have disposed of you up on those cold peaks so as to be as far from Stardock as possible when the Pantathians noticed the display.”
Miranda gave him a sour expression. “Lacks subtlety.”
“Perhaps, but time grows short and I have much work to do while I wait for Calis and Nakor.”
“Can I be of help? Boldar Blood is waiting for me in an inn in LaMut if he can be of service.”
“For now, send word to him to wait; let the mercenary enjoy Tabert’s girls and ale,” said Pug. “As for you, there are any number of tasks around here that I could use help with, if you don’t mind.”
“I won’t cook,” she said, “or mend your smallclothes.”
Pug laughed. He was genuinely amused. “My, that’s the first good laugh I’ve had in a long time.” He shook his head. “Hardly. I can get all the dinner and laundry I require on Sorcerer’s Isle. I inform Gathis, and when all is ready, I transport food in and linens out.