“Such as?”
“Now that Rogen is healing, and has been able to tell us in detail what he saw in his vision, some of our more talented youngsters have thrown themselves upon the problem.” Pug detected a mixture of amusement and pride in the older magician’s words. “Whatever it is out there that seeks to bring harm to the Kingdom, or Midkemia, is limited in power. Assume for a moment that it is, as you fear, some dark agency slipped through the rift from Kelewan, somehow, during the Riftwar. It has weaknesses, and fears to reveal itself fully.”
“Explain, please,” said Pug, his interest driving aside all fatigue.
“We will assume this thing is from Kasumi’s homeworld and not seek some other more exotic explanation for its use of an ancient Tsurani dialect. But unlike Kasumi’s former allies, it comes not in open conquest, but rather seeks to use others as tools. Assume it came by the rift somehow. The rift is a year closed, which means it has been here for at least that long, and perhaps as long as eleven years, gathering servants like the Pantathian priests. Then it seeks to establish itself, by using a moredhel, the “beautiful one,” as Rogen described him, as an agent. What we need truly fear is the dark presence behind that beautiful moredhel and the others. That is the ultimate author of this bloody business.
“Now, if all this is true, it seeks to manipulate and employ guile rather than direct force. Why? Either it is too weak to act, and must employ others, or it is biding its time until it is able to reveal its true nature and come to the fore.”
“Which all means we still must discover the identity and nature of this thing, this power.”
“True. Now, we also have done some speculation predicated upon the assumption that what we face is not of Kelewan.”
Pug interrupted. “Do not waste time with that, Kulgan. We must proceed on the assumption that what we face is from Kelewan, for that, at least, provides us with a possible avenue of approach. If Murmandamus is simply some moredhel witch-king come into his own, one who just happens to speak a long-dead Tsurani tongue, we can counter that. But an invasion by some dark power from Kelewan . . . that is the assumption we must make.”
Kulgan sighed loudly and relit his cold pipe. “I wish we had more time, and more idea of how to proceed. I wish we could examine some aspect of this phenomenon without risk. I wish a hundred things, but most of all I wish for one work by one reliable witness to this thing.”
“There is a place where such a work may exist.”
Dominic said, “Where? I would gladly accompany you or anyone else to such a place, no matter what the risk.”
Kulgan barked a bitter laugh. “Not likely, good brother. My former student speaks of a place upon another world.” Kulgan looked hard at Pug. “The library of the Assembly.”
Kasumi said, “The Assembly?”
Pug saw Katala stiffen. “In that place there may be answers that would aid our coming battle,” he said.
Katala never took her eyes from her work. In controlled tones she said, “It is good the rift is closed and cannot be reopened save by chance. Your life may already be ordered forfeit. Remember that your status as a Great One was called into question before the attack on the Emperor. Who can doubt you are now named outlaw? No, it is good there is no way you might return.”
Pug said, “There is a way.”
Instantly Katala’s eyes were ablaze as she looked hard at him. “No! You cannot return!”
Kulgan said, “How can there be a way back?”
“When I studied for the black robe, I was given a final task,” Pug explained. “Standing upon the Tower of Testing, I saw a vision of the time of the Stranger, a wandering star that imperiled Kelewan. It was Macros who intervened at the last to save Kelewan. Macros was again on Kelewan on the day I nearly destroyed the Imperial Arena. It was obvious all the time and only this week did I understand.”
“Macros could travel between the worlds at will!” said Kulgan, comprehension dawning in his eyes. “Macros had the means to fashion controllable rifts!”
“And I have found it. Clear instructions are in one of his books.”
Katala whispered, “You cannot go.”
He reached over and took her white-knuckled hands in his own. “I must.” He faced Kulgan and Dominic. “I have the means of returning to the Assembly, and I must use it. Otherwise, should Murmandamus be a servant of some dark Kelewanese power, or simply a diversion while such a power comes into its own, we will be lost without hope. If we are to find a way of dealing with such a one, we must first identify it, discover its true nature, and to do that I must go to Kelewan.” He looked at his wife, then at Kulgan. “I will return to Tsuranuanni.”
It was Meecham who spoke first. “Well then. When do we leave?”
Pug said, “We? I must go alone.”