按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Besand was out of sight。 He should stomp all the way back to his quarters。 There would be time for a few forbidden observations。 Bomanz realigned his transit。
The Barrowland did not have the look of great evil； only of neglect。 Four hundred years of vegetation and weather had restructured that once marvelous work。 The barrows and mystical landscaping were all but lost amidst the brush covering them。 The Eternal Guard no longer had the wherewithal to perform adequate upkeep。 Monitor Besand was fighting a desperate rearguard action against time itself。
Nothing grew well on the Barrowland。 The vegetation was twisted and stunted。 Still； the shapes of the mounds； and the menhirs and fetishes which bound the Taken； were often concealed。
Bomanz had spent a lifetime sorting out which mound was which； who lay where； and where each menhir and fetish stood。 His master chart； his silken treasure； was nearly plete。 He could； almost； thread the maze。 He was so close he was tempted to try before he was truly ready。 But he was no fool。 He meant to try nursing sweet milk from the blackest of cows。 He dared make no mistake。 He had Besand on the one hand； the poisonous old wickedness on the other。 But if he succeeded 。 。 。 Ah； if he succeeded。 If he made contact and nursed away the secrets 。 。 。 Man's knowledge would be extended dramatically。 He would bee the mightiest of living mages。 His fame would course with the wind。 Jasmine would have everything she quarreled about sacrificing。 If he made contact。
He would； by damn！ Neither fear nor the infirmity of age would stay him now。 A few months and he would have the last key。
Bomanz had lived his lies so long he often lied to himself。 Even in his honest moments he never confessed his most powerful motive； his intellectual affair with the Lady。 It was she who had intrigued him from the beginning； she whom he was trying to contact； she who made the literature endlessly fascinating。 Of all the lords of the Domination she was the most shadowed； the most surrounded by myth； the least encumbered by historical fact。 Some scholars called her the greatest beauty ever to have lived； claiming that simply to have seen her was to have fallen into her thrall。 Some called her the true motive force of the Domination。 A few admitted that their documentaries were really little more than romantic fantasies。 Others admitted nothing while demonstrably embellishing。 Bomanz had bee perpetually bemused while still a student。
Back in his attic； he spread his silken chart。 His day had not been a plete waste。 He had located a previously unknown menhir and had identified the spells it anchored。 And he had found the TelleKurre site。 That would buy the mutton and beans。
He glared at the chart； as if pure will might conjure the information he needed。
There were two diagrams。 The upper was a five…pointed star within a slightly larger circle。 Such had been the shape of the Barrowland when newly constructed。 The star had stood a fathom above the surrounding terrain； retained by limestone walls。 The circle represented the outer bank of a moat； the earth from which had been used to build the barrows； the star； and a pentagon within the star。 Today the moat was little more than boggy ground。 Besand's predecessors had been unable to keep up with Nature。
Within the star； drawn off the points where the arms met； was a pentagon another fathom high。 It； too； had been retained； but the walls had fallen and bee overgrown。 Central to the pentagon； on a north…south axis； lay the Great Barrow where the Dominator slept。
At the points of his chart star； clockwise from the top； Bomanz had penned the odd numbers from one to nine。 Acpanying each was a name： Soulcatcher； Shapeshifter。 Nightcrawler； Stormbringer； Bonegnasher。 The occupants of the five outer barrows had been identified。 The five inner points were numbered evenly； beginning at the right foot of the arm of the star pointing northward。 At four was the Howler； at eight the Limper。 The graves of three of the Ten Who Were Taken remained unidentified。
〃Who's in that damned six spot？〃 Bomanz muttered。 He slammed a fist against the table。 〃Dammit！〃 Four years and he was no closer to that name。 The mask concealing that identity was the one remaining substantial barrier。 Everything else was plain technical application； a matter of negating wardspells； then of contacting the great one in the central mound。
The wizards of the White Rose had left volumes bragging about their performances of their art； but not one word of where their victims lay。 Such was human nature。 Besand bragged about the fish he caught； the bait he used； and seldom produced the veritable piscine trophy。
Below his star chart Bomanz had drawn a second portraying the central mound。 It was a rectangle on a north…south axis surrounded by and filled with ranks of symbols。 Outside each corner was a representation of a menhir which； on the Barrowland； was a twelve…foot pillar topped by a two…faced owl's head。 One face glared inward； the other out。 The menhirs formed the corner posts anchoring the first line of spells warding the Great Barrow。
Along the sides were the line posts； little circles representing wooden fetish poles。 Most had rotted and fallen； their spells drooping with them。 The Eternal Guard had no staff wizard capable of restoring or replacing them。
Within the mound proper there were symbols ranked in three rectangles of declining size。 The outermost resembled pawns； the next knights； and the inner； elephants。 The crypt of the Dominator was surrounded by men who had given their lives to bring him down。 Ghosts were the middle line between old evil and a world capable of recalling it。 Bomanz anticipated no difficulty getting past them。 The ghosts were there； in his opinion； to discourage mon grave robbers。
Within the three rectangles Bomanz had drawn a dragon with its tail in its mouth。 Legend said a great dragon lay curled round the crypt； more alive than the Lady or Dominator； catnapping the centuries away while awaiting an attempt to recall the trapped evil。
Bomanz had no way of coping with the dragon； but he had no need； either。 He meant to municate with the crypt； not to open it。
Damn！ If he could only lay hands on an old Guardsman's amulet 。 。 。 The early Guards had worn amulets which had allowed them to go into the Barrowland to keep it up。 The amulets still existed； though they were no longer used。 Besand wore one。 The others he kept squirreled away。
Besand。 That madman。 That sadist。
Bomanz considered the Monitor his closest acquaintance…but a friend； never。 No； never a friend。 Sad mentary on his life； that the man nearest him would be one who would jump at a chance to torture or hang him。
What was that about retirement？ Someone outside this forsaken forest had recalled the Barrowland？
〃Bomanz！ Are you going to eat？〃
Bomanz muttered imprecations and rolled his chart。
The Dream came that night。 Something sirenic called him。 He was young again； single； strolling the lane that passed his house。 A woman waved。 Who was she？ He didn't know。 He didn't care。 He loved her。 Laughing； he ran toward her 。 。 。 Floating steps。 Effor