252
‘Your time has come,’ shouts a voice, but it is Loi-Kymar and not Vonotar who now speaks. A knot of herbs flies through the air and hits Vonotar squarely in the chest. In an instant, the hunchback wizard is engulfed in a tangle of vines that ensnare him from head to toe. Loi-Kymar bridges the moat with more creepers and joins you on the platform.
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‘Be sure to remove his rings and amulets,’ he says, as he busily searches for his Guildstaff. ‘He is a master of trickery. We would not want him to miss the special homecoming that awaits him in Sommerlund.’
You marvel at the old man’s composure. After such a desperate fight, he seems completely unruffled. ‘Ah! Here she is,’ he announces triumphantly as he withdraws his Guildstaff from beneath the Brumalmarc throne.
You pass him your map of Kalte and point out the location of the Cardonal. ‘I’ll not be needing that,’ he replies, a little contemptuously. ‘Maps are invariably wrong—I prefer to rely on my own sense of direction.’ The old magician raises his staff and a dazzling beam of light shoots from its tip. He makes three wide sweeps of the air and the Hall of the Brumalmarc is transformed into an umbrella of colour.
