magic. Only I could do that, it turns out," he finished, still forlorn at the memory of better times. Cheyne looked away, and even Claria had momentarily faltered in her anger at Og.
"The stone on her necklace-is that part of the ring?" asked Cheyne.
"Yes. The black pearl of Nadrum. The one she used to buy her freedom. Its magic is easier to use than any other stone in the ring-not as exact a tone is called for. By itself, depending on a lot of things, but mainly the user, it can do anything from cure to kill. Very unstable, the pearl. But when it's used with the other stones, it provides bass and adds volume, amplifies the power I guess you could say, for my songspells. Even if all the other stones were put back together, Riolla could stand off their magic by sheer force of the pearl's dark, confusing noise. But it's very draining. You have bad dreams and pains for days after using it alone. Dreams of swamps and murky, foul places. Very unpleasant," said Og, wrinkling his nose.
Cheyne sat pondering Og's story for a white. One thing he knew: Riolla's caravan route had been closed for many years now. No matter how much ch'mina she had brought to the city, treated, and stored, she had to be getting to the end of it by now.
Still deep in thought, Cheyne removed his boots and tunic and entered the cooling spring. Despite herself, Claria could not help noticing how the water and sunlight played over his well-muscled body.
"Og?" Cheyne said, his eyes distant.
"Yes."
"Og, who else has the stones?"
Smiling, the little man considered for a moment. "The last I knew…" His face rounded into an endearing smile.
"What?" said Cheyne hotly, beginning to suspect the reason for Og's choice of routes. He pushed wet blond hair out of his eyes and swatted hard at a tenacious horsefly.