They had come to share a quiet sense of each other over the weeks Miranda had been staying with Pug. She found it amusing that so many of the “mysteries” surrounding him were really nothing more than sleight-of-hand.
When he “vanished,” he was usually nearby, but keeping out of sight. He used a magical gate to leave Stardock and return to Sorcerer’s Isle at will, and usually appeared there at night. Meals were waiting for him, as well as his laundry, much to Miranda’s delight.
Pug regarded the dark eyes that studied him. “What do you intend to do?” she asked. “Go there?”
“No,” said Pug. “There might be a trap. Come along. I’ve got something interesting to show you.” He led her out of his personal quarters in the tower at the center of the keep of Stardock, and down the stairs.
“And why don’t you put some clothes on? You’re quite a distraction in that nothing you sleep in.”
Miranda gave him a half-smile as she ducked into her own quarters, grabbed a dress, and slipped it over her head. Stockings, shoes, and the rest she’d worry about later.
She returned to the hall and followed Pug down the stairs. She had sensed over the weeks they had been together that Pug found her attractive, and on several occasions had wondered about him in a more personal way, but neither had broached the topic or acted upon it. She had slept alone in a room close to his every night since following him to Stardock.
A strange sort of trust had built up between them, for while Miranda refused to reveal much about herself, she had a quick mind and fast wit and the same dry sense of humor Pug had developed over the years. He had given her the run of the place, and she had been in most of the rooms, but not all. A few rooms were locked, and when she asked about them, he said there were things he was unwilling to share with anyone, and would change the subject.
He made a motion with his hand as he approached one such door, and it swung open without a touch. She understood the principles involved in the spell, but had sensed nothing of magic when she had investigated the door a month earlier.
Inside the room was a large assortment of scrying devices. A round object lay beneath a blue velvet cover, and as he removed this, she saw a perfect globe of crystal.
“This was a legacy from my teacher Kulgan, who died many years ago. It was fashioned by Althafain of Carse.” She nodded in recognition of the name of the legendary artificer of magic items. As he passed his hand over it, the heart of crystal turned opaque, a milk-white cloud forming within the ball. With another pass of his hand, he brought a rosy glow to the cloud within the orb. “This device gave him the first hint I had some talent”—his voice fell low as he added—“a very long time ago.”
“What can it do?”
“It’s a sighting device, and the wonderful thing about it is that it is very subtle. Those being watched have to be very alert to sense its use.” He sat on a stool and motioned for Miranda to sit nearby.
“The problem, though, is that what makes it subtle makes it very stupid. If you don’t know what you’re looking for, it’s no help at all.
“Fortunately, I know where I placed each ward.” He squinted a little, and Miranda felt magic turning and being adjusted as Pug said, “Let’s see what is happening in Maharta. It must be midmorning there.”
He focused his will, and the city of Maharta was revealed in the glass, as if viewed from the clouds by the birds. It lay in smoke and cloudy darkness.
“What tripped your ward?” asked Miranda.
“That’s what I’m trying to . . . Here, I think.”
The point of view in the glass shifted, and across the river he saw a bridge of light, and an army upon it. After viewing it for a moment, Pug closed his eyes.
He opened them again after a moment. “One thing about the Pantathians: there’s little about them one might call refined. Unless I attacked them directly, there’s no possible way they could know I was watching.”
“Is Maharta going to fall?” asked Miranda.
“It appears that’s the case,” answered Pug.
“Calis?”
Pug said, “I’ll try to find him.”
Pug closed his eyes and the scene in the ball shifted, and as he opened them again, the colors swirling in the ball resolved themselves into an image. A small fishing boat, rowed by two men and holding two others, struggled through rough waters. Pug brought the image closer, and they could both see that the first man in the boat was Calis, pulling with his more than human strength against the choppy water.
Miranda sighed. “I suppose helping him is out of the question?”
“Difficult, without letting the Pantathians know where we are. A few I could deal with. Those guarding that bridge . . .”
“I know,” she said.
Pug looked at Miranda. “You’re fond of him, aren’t you?”
“Calis?” She was silent for a while. “In a way. He’s unique and I feel a . . . connection with him.”
Pug sat back, his face a mask. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that with anyone.” Looking back into the ball, he said, “We could attempt—”
Suddenly there was a flash of orange light in the ball.