Chapter 6: BETRAYAL

Pug concentrated on the storm.

Whitecaps curled on the face of the Bitter Sea as furious jags of lightning
slashed down from a darkening sky. Far off, the wobbling sails of ships leapt
in the troughs of grey waves, struggling desperately against winds that
threatened to shear them into ragged scraps. Fishermen and frenzied ship masters
busied themselves along Krondor's docks as they raced to batten down flapping
hatches and prevent unsecured goods from pitching into the churning seas.
Everywhere there were planks and hammers and ropes, but among the workers not a
soul dared utter a word.
	Wrongness. Pug sensed it as clearly as he smelled the salt in the air,
and felt the hardwood railing under his hand. What had begun three days ago as a
seemingly weak summer squall was intensifying into a threshing eye of violence.
Within hours it would make landfall, doubtless bruising the livelihoods of many
coastal towns, Krondor among them.
	Perhaps it can be tamed, Pug thought, his face twisting into a frown.
More of a Lesser Path affair but it should be simple enough...
	Even as he extended his hand the image of another storm formed in his
mind unbidden, a terrifying storm that had raged over his head as he came into
the greatness of his power in a far distant Empire called Tsuranuanni, a storm
that had tested his right to be a member of the alien Assembly of Magicians, a
storm that had rent open the heavens and forever set him apart from other mortal
men.
	Energy leapt from Pug's outstretched fingers into the heart of the
storm, exploding within it a glorious rainbow pattern that illuminated the
clouds in a throbbing elemental display. Greenish bands of color danced the sky
as the wind began to abate, the torrential rains quickly softening to a mild
patter as blue blasts of energy moved between sea and sky. Gently the ocean
stilled of its own accord.
	Satisfied the threat was reduced, Pug discontinued the spell with a
slicing gesture and stepped back to watch the storm's progress. The sight eased
his mind and allowed him time to mull over a series of issues, not the least of
which was the ruined vacation that he, his wife Katala and daughter Gamina, had
intended on making in Krondor, but like a lodestone to metal he found his
thoughts returning again and again to recollections of the Empire...

PUG:
Arrayed in flame the enemy comes, To shriek his cadence on skeleton drums...

MAKALA:
For thunder's spite we'll raise our call, Though down shall crumble Empire all.

MAKALA:
A Tsurani poet. I believe he was House Omechan...

PUG:
House Minwanabi, reign of the fifty third Light of Heaven...

PUG:
Is there something you need to see me about Makala? I am... busy.

MAKALA:
Busy? You have been behaving like a needra bull with a burr in his bit! I came
to ask what has Pug of Stardock so distracted that he cannot find time to meet
with his associate magicians? Has his reputation so inflated that a member of
the Tsurani Assembly is no longer worthy of his attention?

PUG:
I am sorry. Perhaps you are right, I've just been very preoccupied.

PUG:
I find myself obsessed with this storm. All week I've felt it building over the
Bitter Sea and all the while I have suspected there is more to it than is
immediately perceptible. It doesn't feel natural. Have you seen its like?

MAKALA:
I have seen its match in destruction. As I recall, you created far more havoc in
Tsuranuanni when you disrupted my Emperor's Imperial Games. Several city blocks

destroyed, countless lives lost, the War lord cast down in dishonor...

PUG:
I had a feeling you didn't summon a rift-door to chastise me about my lack of
attention. What is this about, Makala?

MAKALA:
Your loyalties, Pug. While you claim loyalty to the Empire, you live your life
under the influence of a Midkemian King and took to wife a Thuril highlander.
Your judgment is suspect!

PUG:
From the day I left the Empire, my judgment and my loyalties ceased to be the
concern of the Assembly of Magicians. I do what I see is best for all concerned.

MAKALA:
I see. Then, is any act justifiable to that end?

PUG:
If it serves the common good, yes.

MAKALA:
Even if it violates an individual's rights?

PUG:
What do you wish for me to say, Makala?! You lead me as if I were one of your
needra cows but I am in no mood for games. State your business.

MAKALA:
Very well. Your daughter Gamina has blossomed into a remarkable young woman. She
is beautiful, gracious and an honor to your house. Unfortunately, she is also a
girl with remarkable powers.

MAKALA:
Your love for your daughter has led you into a grievous miscarriage of your
duties! Why have you let her live?

PUG:
My estimation of a person's magical talents is not determined by their sex,
Makala, and I refuse to murder my child to appease a barbaric tenant of the
Assembly! They have no authority in Midkemia!

MAKALA:
In this instance, I believe they will choose to ignore the geography. At this
juncture, the Assembly is troubled - surrounded by anti-traditionalists who
embrace your Midkemian values, led in large part by Mara of the Acoma.

MAKALA:
Open defiance by you as our most notable member could weaken our position within
the Empire and that is something we cannot afford! We would be forced to make
you publicly comply.

MAKALA:
Although I am equally wary of female abomination, I have no desire to see your
daughter dead. I have acted on your behalf and placed her in exile until such a
time we can agree upon her ultimate fate...

PUG:
Why didn’t you consult me? Where have you sent her?!

MAKALA:
Seek her if you wish, but it will avail you little. Your further interference
will likely ensure that the Assembly will carry out its order of death. They
will be unable to kill her, however, if they cannot find her. It would be to
your advantage to leave her be.

PUG:
I will not content myself to sit here while the Assembly banters about the value
of my daughter's life! I shall find her and then you tell your brethren to
expect my visit!

MAKALA:
You embark on a dangerous road but it is yours to take. Farewell then, Pug...

"THE BOOK OF MACROS"

				TALKING TO KATALA

KATALA:
... the meditation tower being one of the first places I suspected of looking. I
went there as soon as I discovered that neither he nor my daughter appeared for
breakfast that morning. There I found the message that he had burnt into the
wall.

OWYN:
The Book of Macros... What do you think the message means?

KATALA:
I thought for a while that he intended for us to contact the magician named
Macros, but it would be a feat impossible for even Pug to accomplish. Macros
left Midkemia long ago and all he left behind were his writings...

OWYN:
And presumably this Book of Macros would be among the books he left behind...

KATALA:
Perhaps, but I cannot be certain. The library that Macros left on Sorcerer's
Isle was vast and it took us the better part of a year to move the bulk of it to
the Academy at Stardock. Since that time, some of the volumes have been lent out
to various scribes so that they can be cataloged and transcribed.

OWYN:
Then the book could be anywhere--- a new approach. Before he disappeared, did
you note anything unusual that he may have said or done?

KATALA:
As I said earlier he had seemed agitated for some long time, but yes, there was
something. About a month ago we were walking in the gardens outside of the
palace, just the two of us enjoying the day when he suddenly halted us near a
sewer grate. When I asked him what was wrong, he said, "Not all of the sheep are
in our fold."

OWYN:
Sheep? Forgive me, Lady, but your husband seems to have an infuriating penchant
for the cryptic...

KATALA:
Not ordinarily, no, only when things are on his mind. But come, I must head
towards Stardock and look for evidence of this Book of Macros there. Where shall
you two go?

GORATH:
We go below into the sewers under Krondor, Owyn, good Lady. I believe we
shepherds have an errant flock of sheep to find.

			ENTERING THE GREEN HEART

Gorath halted. Blinking slowly, he put a hand over his stomach, then looked
towards his confused looking companion.

GORATH:
Hold for a moment, Owyn. I wish to speak to you.

OWYN:
Why? What is it?

GORATH:
I merely wished to prepare you for things that may transpire before we reach
Elvandar. There are magics -- things ancient -- which have kept the Moredhel
from crossing into the forests of the Eledhel, but I feel those things have been
awakened. I may have some difficulty in completing our journey.

OWYN:
Difficulty. What do you mean?

GORATH:
It was not my intent to alarm you. Only to reassure you that no matter what may
happen between here and Elvandar, I have come to consider you a friend.

			  Entering Elvandar

Gorath faltered.

A hand clasped to his gullet, he grimaced as Owyn looked to him for reassurance,
forcing as much of a smile as he could for the boy's benefit. Imitating a
gesture of fondness he had often seen, he reached out and tossled the squire's
golden hair.
	"We have come to the moment," Gorath said. "Elvandar lies just ahead.
Perhaps the Eledhel may put this matter of Macros to rest."
	Owyn nodded, peering into the heights hoping to catch a glimpse of the
fair folk on their elaborate balconies among the leaves. "I am almost afraid to
go on," Owyn said. "What if what we are looking for isn't here? What if the
Elves think were invaders and try to kill us?"
	"We will not be... harmed," Gorath said, gasping as the magic of the
Elven forest attempted to turn him aside. "If you think it is time to enter the
city, then I follow. It is your decision, Owyn."

They emerged among trees.
	Seeing that the lights of the elven city were not far off, they cut
through a field of long weeds, emerging at last at the base of a fantastically
large tree.