Free The Windrose Chronicles 2 - The Silicon Mage by Barbara Hambly Page A

anything but moronic.
    “But all support doesn't come from money alone. Popular feeling plays a great part in it, especially now...”
         “And so it shall,” the wizard responded kindly. “It's why I asked you to extend your invitation to both your cousin and his bride today. The            Lady Pellicida is surprisingly popular...”
         Cerdic's plucked eyebrows lifted. “Pella? That overdressed, homely gawk of a girl?”
         “They see in her one more victim of your cousin's evil.” He shrugged.
        
     “As indeed she is. When you have your conference with the Regent, then I shall speak to Pella, to offer her your support and help.”
    “But...” The Prince frowned, genuinely concerned. “I can't allow you to endanger yourself by remaining. Indeed, the Regent might have with him one of those disgraceful catamites he keeps about him. He often brings them with him. That poor girl! If you're seen here—if word gets to my cousin that you're one of the mageborn... Your person is too precious to go into such peril alone!”
    Suraklin smiled, like a saint making light of an impending martyrdom, but there was an amused glint in his eye, as if he snickered up his sleeve ruffles at his patron. Had he done so, she wondered, suddenly angry, at her belief in him and at Caris' love? “Do you think I cannot deal with such matters?” he asked mildly. “You'll see; there will be no danger or certainly not much. And in any case, it's your cause I'm thinking about, my Prince, not mine.”
    And if you were Pinocchio,
    
     Joanna thought sourly, the Prince would have just gotten impaled on about seven feet of nose.
    The two men strolled back to the French window together, talking quietly of a masked ball to be given by the merchant noble Calve Dirham the following night; against the misty brightness of the glass, Joanna saw with some surprise that Suraklin and Cerdic were the same height. She had gained the impression that Gary's very body had altered and that he was taller, thinner, older—so much older. She knew Gary was thirtyfour, ten or twelve years older than Cerdic at the most. But those brown eyes, with their disquieting yellow glint, were the eyes of fathomless age.
    The hold of Suraklin over the minds of those he sought to control was almost unbreakable. She had been warned of it, over and over again; she had seen it only yesterday, in Caris's stubborn adherence to his love for the old man. She was far too familiar with it to believe that the credulous Cerdic could be convinced to help her, or indeed to do anything but turn her over to Suraklin.
    The thought made the sweat trickle down her sides under the forestgreen satin of her gown. Jesus Christ, she thought suddenly, if he's here at Court, he'll be maneuvering to get Antryg's death expedited. The fact that to do so he would probably have to go through the Regent, suspicious of all mages, didn't matter. She'd had devastating experience with the Dark Mage's abilities as a manipulator. I have to get Antryg out of therel
    But without support of any kind, she could see no way that she could.
    There's nothing further I can do in Angelshand,
    
     she began, falling subconsciously back into programmer mode and groping for a next step to get her beyond the panic that began to hammer in her chest. First, I have to touch Magister Magus for a monster loan. Second, I have to get to Kymil...
    “My lord,” the majordomo's voice said from the inner door. “His Grace the Prince Regent is here.”
     
    Cerdic laid a hand on Suraklin's sleeve and said softly, “Do be careful, lord wizard.” Turning, he hastened across the room and out into the main hall beyond. With an ironic smile, Suraklin slipped through the French doors onto the terrace.
    Oh, swell,
    
     Joanna thought, weak with fear. So now I have a choice of splitting and walking smack into him outside or staying where I am and getting rousted out by Pharos' sasenna, if they decide