Free Shadowmasque by Michael Cobley Page B

this blatant coercion but to her dismay he frowned and gave a smal nod.
    “Go on,” he said.
    The Archmage looked satisfied. “It has come to the notice of the High Minister of Night as well as myself that the Great Carver Pilgrimage to the Isle of Besdarok will be used as a veil for the assembly of an army of northern Carver zealots which will then attack Sejeend. At the same time, other Carver wreckers will attempt to sow confusion in the city with burnings, assassinations and the like. It will be the Watchers’ task to spy on the few prominent Carver priestholds and their sympathisers in Sejeend, find out who is party to the plot and ascertain its details.”
    Calabos regarded him pensively. “And may I ask what the Order of Mages will be doing in the meantime?”
    “Working closely with the High Lord Marshall and his commanders to counter the threat from the north,” Tangaroth said. “Pre-emptively, if necessary.”
    Tashil felt so full of outrage at this that she teetered on the brink of shouting in his face. ‘Norther Carver zealots’ could only mean the Mogaun tribes, but the only true zealots among the tribes were the fanatical Oathtakers and they accounted for only a small minority with numbers that scarcely constituted an army. In any case, it would be sheer madness to mount an attack on a city like Sejeend…
    Then Sounek caught her eye and raised a cautionary finger, to which she gave a slight nod and held back, listening.
    “A most singular strategy, Archmage,” Calabos was saying. “Very well, then — you can be assured that we will carry out this investigation for you on the understanding that our integrity and independence will remain as it was under Magramon.”
    “So it shall be,” Tangaroth said. “But before you begin, it might be wise to escort your hotheaded guest out of the city — who knows what harm might befall him were he to stray out into the streets.”
    “Yes...quite…”
    Calabos suddenly paused, swayed on the spot then reached out to the padded back of a divan to steady himself. “Can you hear….a voice….calling….”
    Then Tashil could hear something but only in her mind, a low, rumbling voice speaking a continuous string of syllables. And even as she became aware of the sound, it grew louder and louder in her head. In the next moment, Calabos let out a strangled cry and keeled over to sprawl on the floor.
    But the terrible roaring went on, even as the others stumbled forward to Calabos’ aid, all of them similarly affected by the monstrous torrent of noise. It was now so loud that it seemed to fill her head to bursting and sent her senses reeling. She could hear nothing else and the mere act of trying to walk over to Calabos’ motionless form was like crossing a tightrope above an abyss. And still the brutal, demanding bellow raged on within her skull but now she could discern divisions, a feral shriek, an incoherent droning moan, and over it all vast words surging through like waves of oceanic thunder….
    Finally it abated, faded to a murmur and whispered away to nothing with surprising swiftness. Relief was stark on every face around her, and Tangaroth was crouching by an unconscious Calabos with fingers pressed against the side of his neck.
    “Unharmed,” the Archmage said, getting shakily to his feet. “When he awakes, impress upon him the gravity of this new...incident.” He looked at them all. “I’m sure that he will have recognised that as a spell of dark provenance.”
    “It was an invocation,” Dardan said sourly.
    “Yes, but of a kind known as a calling,” Tangaroth said. “It is supposed to draw powerful spirits and other things to the vicinity of the caller. If this was perpetrated by Carver zealots then your task may just have become a little more arduous that I originally anticipated.”
    The Archmage had regained his composure and once more carried an air of haughty disdain.
    “When Calabos sufficiently revives, have him contact me with