Sorcerers of Majipoor by Robert Silverberg

Author:Robert Silverberg [Silverberg, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯), Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 9780575106574
Publisher: Eos
Published: 1997-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

5

AFTERWARD, IN PRESTIMION'S APARTMENTS, Gialaurys said furiously, "By the Lady, I should have killed him straightaway at that first pass, instead of politely touching lances with him. But I was not trained to do such slaughter in the name of sport, and how was I to know what scheme he had in mind? Though I learned soon enough, by the Lady! This was the wrestling-match of the Labyrinth all over again, only with a deadlier weapon than Farholt's arms and hands, this time. When I approached him at the second pass, he was already whispering his spells at me. And then I thought, it is all over with me, my mind is clouding over and my strength is gone, I will perish here in front of everyone and they all will think I had forgotten all my skills since last I jousted. I would have killed him, if I could. But I was too much befogged by him."

He was trembling and white-faced with anger. Prestimion handed him a flask of wine, and he drained it without bothering to pour any into a drinking-bowl, and tossed it aside.

Svor said, 'To go up against a magus in a contest like that was madness. I should have warned you to refuse."

"No one ever listens to your warnings, Svor," said Septach Melayn lightly. "It is your fate. But at least that one will cast no spells on us tomorrow."

"This was all of it madness," Prestimion said darkly. "The accepting of the challenge and the killing of the magus both. You're lucky not to be in the Castle dungeon tonight, Septach Melayn."

"He gave me provocation, after all. Everyone saw that. He aimed the lance at me to kill, when I was only a silly drunkard disrupting the match. Who could deny it was self-defense when I struck him down?"

"You went out there intending to kill him," Prestimion said.

"Yes. So I did. But he was there to kill Gialaurys. Would you have preferred that he had?"

Prestimion opened his mouth to reply, but no words came, and he closed it again.

Gialaurys said, "It would surely have been my death. He was chanting words at me, binding me in the grip of demons—I could barely see, it was all I could do to stay atop my mount—" He reached out for another flask of wine. "I knew I would die. But I couldn't make myself run away. I felt no fear, only anger at having been gulled this way. It was their plan to kill me. If Septach Melayn hadn't gone out to interfere, I'd be with the Source tonight."

"Whose plan?" asked Prestimion sharply. "Korsibar's, you think?"

Gialaurys shook his head. "You keep telling us he's an honorable man. Steals the throne, yes, but a man of honor all the same. Well, then, he loves us all: let us say that. It was Sanibak-Thastimoon who sent the magus against me. And next, I vow, he'll be trying his witchcraft against you."

"Ah, just let him try!" Prestimion said, laughing.

"He will!

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