Free Ironcrown Moon by Julian May Page A

Ironcrown Moon banished from the routine of the Brethren, he retired to the great library to study. His choice of materials sometimes surprised the librarian, but Father Abbas had decreed that all things were to be at his disposal, as though he were still a Doctor Arcanorum in good standing in the Mystical Order of Saint Zeth.
    After supper, as he often did, he held conversation in the bee-yard with his three friends; the clouds of busy, harmless insects ensured that no unwanted person would overhear their scheming. When the night-bell rang, he took to his bed more eagerly than usual and slept, and dreamed… and opened his mind to the invader.
    Kilian. Vra-Kilian Blackhorse. Do you hear me?
    “Finally, Beynor! I’m relieved to hear from you at last. You really should have contacted me earlier. I was becoming concerned. But never mind. My men in Gala Palace are ready. By the end of Midsummer Day, if all goes as I’ve planned, they will have escaped from the city with the Trove of Darasilo! I hope that matters go similarly well with you.”
    There’s a serious problem. I need you to postpone the Cala mission. Just for a short time.
    “Impossible. My agents were given their orders months ago. By now all the arrangements are in place. It’s imperative that the attack occurs early tomorrow, while those at the palace are sleeping off the previous day’s festivities.”
    Kilian, I need more time to complete my research here at the Dawntide Citadel. A week at the most. I’ve laid my hands on a document in the Salka archives that could be vitally important. But Page 28

    translating it is no easy matter. When I skimmed the thing, I could understood only about one word in five. But I deciphered enough to know its tremendous significance. It dates from before Bazekoy’s Conquest!
    “I couldn’t stop the Gala mission from proceeding, even if I should want to. Vra-Garon has been sent off to Elkhaven on business by
    Abbas Noachil, and is also carrying out an important assignment of mine. He won’t be back here until tomorrow. There’s no one else at
    Zeth Abbey whom I can trust to wind-speak my agents, and it’s too late to send them a message by conventional means.”
    Kilian, I could windspeak your men and tell them to hold off. It wouldn’t be easy from this great distance, but I could do it. They’d listen and obey if you give me their signatures and the command password now, instead of waiting until
    —
    “No! You’ll bespeak and windwatch them only when the trove is safely in my hands. Do you take me for a fool?”
    You misunderstand
    —
    “And don’t think you can circumvent my safeguards against your coercive talents by invading my agents’ dreams! You’ll never countermand my orders that way. The Brothers were trained in my own somnial defensive techniques before they ever left the abbey. No one can speak to them in dreams unless they consent. But I daresay you’ve already found that out for yourself, or you wouldn’t be trying to trick me!”
    Kilian, please believe that I’d never betray our agreement and try to seize the trove for myself.
    “Of course you would, my boy. Neither of us has ever trusted the other. That will never change until we’ve successfully divided
    Darasilo’s sigils, and overcome the obstacles that now prevent either of us from utilizing their sorcery.”
    Just listen to me. Let me explain why I need more time. I don’t want to offer our bargain to the Salka until I learn more about the
    Unknown Potency’s effect upon the Beaconfolk themselves. The stone does more than liberate sigils from the Lights’ control and abolish bonding. I’m certain of that. This ancient document tablet that I’ve found may reveal why the Potency was created in the first place.
    There’s something in it about an intention to sever the Lights’ ability to meddle in the affairs of earthbound beings such as ourselves.
    “Depriving us of Beaconfolk sorcery altogether? I don’t much like the