(eng) Pam Uphoff - Wine of The Gods 03 by The Black Goats

Author:The Black Goats [Goats, The Black]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

***

At least the Council Hall was built to last. Dydit refrained from picking at the loose threads of his ridiculous uniform and stared up at the old Palace.

"Huh. Guess there wasn't enough wood in it to burn properly." Nil muttered.

Because it was, despite paint and some additions, unmistakably the seat of the Tyrant Wizards. Dydit had seen it often as a teenager, after his apprenticeship to Maleth. I should have stayed in Hightop. He wondered if his own childhood home still stood, or if time or the glacier of the north had destroyed it.

Hesto Biny, in a slightly faded version of the same uniform marched up and down the ranks of her new recruits. Both of them. The City as a whole appeared to be gaining about a hundred new militia members today.

"Just stand up tall and proud. We'll all march in single file, touch the People's Sword of Justice, line up and take the oath. Nothing to it."

They nodded in unison, although Dydit hoped he looked less cynical than Nil.

"There. Everyone is forming up now. Get in line." She hustled off to her own spot among the officers.

Nil and Dydit got themselves into the middle of the line and followed the first half into the rotunda. An amazing assortment of Militia officers awaited them. The majority were overweight, a couple in wheeled chairs, and about three-quarters women. Dydit had seen too many archery demonstrations from witches to discount female warriors. But somehow this lot didn't seem to be up to Ash standards just in mental attitude. Not surprising really, if their duties involved mostly burning the occasional eccentric old man or woman at the stake.

The line was winding passed an elaborately uniformed man holding up a black velvet pillow holding an unsheathed sword lying beside its ridiculously over decorated scabbard.

Dydit choked, and poked the old man. Nodded at the sword. People's Sword of Justice my ass. That's the enchanted sword of the Archwizard. He gulped faintly. That glows when touched by the magically talented. It had been a long time since his own chubby hand had touched that hilt and received a bright flash of confirmation of a powerful future ahead of him, once he got past the short term pain . . . He looked around suddenly, where had Nil. . .

Nil hadn't gone anywhere; he'd pulled all of his magical senses and left nothing at all showing. Dydit did likewise, sucking it all in tight, giving himself a blazing headache. His hand touched the hilt and he shuffled onward after the old woman in front of him. He relaxed slowly, started looking around magically. Nothing else of a magical nature that he could spot.

He mouthed the words of the oath. "To protect the People of Scoone from the pernicious influence of Magic and Religion." No problem. If he ever saw a pernicious influence . . .

Hetso congratulated them and then turned back to her fellow officers, and the last living Tyrant Wizard warped the light around himself to disappear from sight, with a lesser Wizard Lord following his example.

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