Spellstorm Read Online Free

someone
not
excitedly embellishing what they’re passing on. So much of what we hear is colored
     by Raedra this, or Baerovus that, or ‘I back a better future monarch than either.’ ”
    “I know not Lord Halaunt’s politics, but I do know why powerful wizards would be interested
     in him: the Lost Spell,” Tarn replied grimly. “If such a thing truly exists.” He looked
     at Glathra, who shrugged and turned to Vainrence.
    “I’ve heard that same talk,” the Lord Warder said, “and have been trying to verify
     it, thus far without success.”
    Ganrahast spread his hands in a silent question, and Vainrence obliged. “They’re saying
     in the streets that the reclusive noble Lord Halaunt has somehow acquired the legendary
     Lost Spell, and intends to auction it to the highest bidder. Or rather, that Lord
     Halaunt is announcing that he has this magic, in such a way as to make it clear he’s
     interested in hearing offers.”
    Ganrahast sighed and sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers in thought. “Ah,
     that ‘somehow’—as in,
how
did the likes of Lord Halaunt get his hands on the Lost Spell, if he has? How would
     he even know what he had?”
    “You’re really asking who put the notion into the head of a noble with no grasp of
     the Art that he had a spell at all,” Glathra murmured. “And somehow convinced him
     that it was this legendary Lost Spell that’s said to provide its caster with an endless
     supply of their favorite spells, to cast and recast at will. Halaunt’s history bespeaks
     someone more suspicious and skeptical than gullible.”
    “You oversimplify the purported nature of the Lost Spell,” Vainrence pointed out gently.
    “True,” Ganrahast agreed, “but that hardly matters if it’s all a fabrication. I cannot
     believe something so unbalancing can be real, if it does work as the tales say. Why
     are we not all in the thrall of an archmage employing it already?”
    “There is the belief, among those who revere Savras, that we
are
,” Tarn pointed out mildly, but even as the Royal Magician’s face creased in disgust
     and he waved a firm dismissal of that remark, Glathra spoke up.
    “I, too, have a hard time believing there is a Lost Spell of the sort being bruited
     about—but my Lords, do you not see? Whether Lord Halaunt really has the Lost Spell
     or not, many powerful wizards seem to think he does, and are even now converging on
     his country mansion, obviously bent on seizing it.”
    Vainrence snorted. “Where they’ll find Halaunt a mind-blasted idiot, probably for
     the rest of his days.
He
won’t be telling them anything useful.”
    The Royal Magician frowned. “Daethur’s report spoke of three hopeful hedge wizards
     showing up at Oldspires. Separately. What is this ‘converging’ you speak of?”
    The Lord Warder sighed and started digging through the papers in front of him. “Much
     has happened since you read Daethur’s first message. I’ve been setting them aside
     for rereading, to get a feel for any unfolding pattern—ah!
Here
we are!”
    He plucked a sheaf of parchments out of the confusion, riffled them with a practiced
     finger, read for a moment, and then said, “Various Purple Dragons or wizards of war
     set on watch have identified Manshoon, Malchor Harpell—presumably of the Harpells
     of Longsaddle, Shaaan the Serpent Queen, and two former Elders of Nimbral—Yusendre
     and Skouloun, by name—as the most powerful wielders of the Art who have shown up at
     Oldspires since the Dragon Rampant burned. Among, as you say, a dozen-some hopeful
     hedge wizards.”
    “Purple Dragon forfend!” Ganrahast muttered, turning to give Vainrence a hard look.
     “And no one thought to tell me?”
    His longtime friend and colleague said gently, “It was thought—”
    Under the increasingly colder weight of Ganrahast’s glare, the Lord Warder squared
     his shoulders and amended firmly, “
I
thought—that your attention would all be taken up