Chronicles of the Necromancer 1 - The Summoner by Martin Gail Z

Author:Martin, Gail Z. [Martin, Gail Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781844164684
Publisher: Bill
Published: 0101-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tris swallowed hard. "I think that's enough for one day."

"There is very little time," Alyzza replied. "We must make the most of it. Carina, bring us the scrying ball from my bag."

Alyzza pressed the scrying ball into Tris's hands. "Let's see what you can do with this."

Tris turned it. He remembered how accurate a ball like it was at the festival in Margolan, and how dark a future it foresaw. "But I don't know how to scry," he protested.

"You can learn," Alyzza dismissed his hesitation. "Mages of any clan can scry, some better than others. Place the ball in front of you," she instructed. "Clear your mind. Focus. Tell me what you see."

Tris took a deep breath and did as Alyzza instructed. The scrying ball remained dark.

"It's not working."

"You're not concentrating. Try again."

Carina leaned forward, staring into the dark glass ball. Tris took another deep breath and closed his eyes. He tried to ignore the sounds of the caravan beyond the thin tent walls and the dull ache of his muscles from sword practice with Vahanian. Tris pictured the scrying ball in his mind, forcing out all other thoughts, and sought the silent place within himself. As he made his mental descent, the scrying ball in his mind began to glow, faintly at first, and then stronger, a pale yellow light. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes and found the glass ball in his hands glowing like the image in his mind.

Suddenly the scrying ball flared like a captured ray of sunlight, and a tiny picture formed deep within the crystal. A stocky man in his late middle years appeared, his once-dark hair peppered with gray. "My uncle," he whispered. The image shifted, and Tris saw a woman whose resemblance to Bricen raised a lump in his throat. "My father's sister," he murmured. The scrying ball went dark.

Tris looked up at Alyzza questioningly, holding out the darkened glass ball. "What have I seen?" He looked back at the scrying ball as if it would flare once more into life.

"A glimpse of time," the fortune-teller replied. "Much more than I expected. You do indeed have power," she said, a hint of appreciation in her raspy voice. "You knew the figure?"

"My uncle," Tris replied, setting the scrying ball down gently. "The one I'm traveling to meet."

"Interesting," Alyzza mused. "Most pupils are lucky if they can merely make the scrying ball glow on their first try. Some manage an image, but often it is too faint to make out. How is it that you not only call an image, but find kin on your first scrying?" she asked, leaning forward until her wrinkled face was only inches away from Tris's own, and her ale-tainted breath stung in his nostrils. "Very interesting. Try once more."

Tris accepted the scrying ball again and let his hands slide over the smooth, warm surface. He shut his eyes and repeated the calming ritual, slipping into a light trance. He focused his thoughts on the glass ball and stretched out in the darkness.

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