LII.

Saruman of Many Colors

Saruman waited at the top of the tower of Orthanc, the wind blowing his beard back as black smoke rose in twin pillars on either side of the tower. Against the grey sky a single black dot grew ever closer, finally revealing itself to be a bird, a crebain of Dunland specifically. It landed on his shoulder and he heard Grima Wormtongue's voice.

"The prince has fallen and Eomer is far afield. I have begun preparations for the final move if you only give the order." Saruman nodded and the bird continued, "The only one in Rohan who opposes me is Tyrion Lannister who acts as counsel to Eowyn, niece of the king. He works against my designs, for his own power or some greater purpose I do not know, but he arrived with Gandalf the Grey. He has brought men loyal to him and another Lannister, Ser Daven, has arrived with Grimbold's party. I await your decision on what is to be done with them."

Saruman frowned, he knew from his communion with the Eye that Tyrion Lannister had fallen out of the Dark Lord's sway, but he had expected the Imp to be a broken man… to have him surface now with Gandalf, and in Edoras no less, was disconcerting to say the least.

"Have the Lannisters seized and executed on some pretense," He said to the raven, "You have my leave to marry Eowyn and begin the subjugation of Rohan. All houses and holds which do not bow will be swept away by the fury of Isengard." He made a gesture and the bird bobbed it's head before flying away in the direction of Edoras. He turned to walk down the stairs into the main tower, a few floors down he came across Qyburn, studying various scrolls and books as usual.

"Prepare the ravens," he commanded, and the old maester quickly stood up, beckoning the wizard to follow him into an aviary he'd set up in the next room. Though Saruman could speak through the ravens of Dunland he had been communicating with his agents in the Westerlands through the mute birds which could only carry written messages.

"To where shall the letters be sent Lord Saruman?" Qyburn inquired.

"A letter shall be sent to every castle in the Westerlands which we can send ravens to."

Qyburn nodded, "Would you like me to help you make copies?"

"Yes, let me write an original," he picked up a quill and paper from a nearby desk.

To the Faithful
Dark times grip this world, foul shadows rise and the demons of the seven hells walk the earth. Soon you will see them. I say to you that only the Faithful will be spared in this new War for the Dawn. This begs the question of who is truly faithful? As the Seven are just and merciful only great sin would bring the armies of evil down upon us, great sin we see now in the actions of House Lannister, those killers of all from babes to Kings! Those who heed no gods nor any bond of fellowship! Let it be known that Tywin Lannister and all who follow him are surely damned!
Saruman the White

Qyburn took the message and read it, "Surely you don't expect men to rise against lord Tywin on your word alone? I had heard you were respected by the Septons but this is too much to ask of them I think."

"It is not my word alone that they will heed, there is one who fears the gods greatly in Casterly Rock, one who would be willing to betray his family to curry their favor," Saruman said, making another copy of the letter. "In any case I merely seek to delay their resistance to Joffrey's attack. My own armies will march on Casterly Rock soon enough and I would have the goblins cause as much damage as possible before they are stopped. By the time my forces arrive they will be greeted as liberators, peacemakers…" Saruman rolled the letter and placed it in one of the scroll capsules.

"So you never intended for the young king to succeed in his conquest then?" Qyburn asked curiously, rolling another of the scrolls himself.

"Of course not," Saruman scoffed, "The fool boy will cause endless rebellions and wars, I would rule over the Westerlands, not the rubble where they used to be. Ideally no more damage will be wrought than what is necessary to make it's people bow before me." They finished sending the letters out, watching the ravens disappear into the blue sky.

Watching them go reminded Saruman of another matter, "Maester Qyburn, have you created a winged goblin capable of flight?"

"Yes my lord," the maester said with a smile, "The key was the bones you see! I had taken to opening bats and birds to see if some secret of flight was within them, and the bones are hollow! It took some doing and some creative knife work but I managed to lighten the orc bones enough that-"
"You may explain later, how many have been bred?"

"A dozen, though a few will not fly for reasons beyond my knowledge. Is there some great urgency for their completion?"

Saruman looked off to the Northwest, towards the Shire, "The party I sent has failed in their objective, had they succeeded they would have returned to me by now. I believe those I seek will move towards Rivendell, it is imperative that they be intercepted before they arrive there."

"With your help perhaps fifty could be prepared," Qyburn said uncertainly, "Come and see if they will meet your needs." The Maester and he began the long trip down the tower of Isengard, until finally only a few floors from the bottom they came to another room filled with cells of chattering orcs that silenced as the two of them entered. Qyburn moved to open one of the cages and one of the creatures stumbled clumsily out towards them.

"Whom do you serve?" Saruman asked it, observing it's movements closely.

"Saruman the wise, lord of Isengard," it croaked. The wings on it's back fluttered suddenly, surprisingly large and wider than the creature was tall, with a batlike leathery texture revealed by the torchlight of the room. Saruman walked around it, taking it in. It was a small creature, perhaps three feet tall, with fangs and small clawed hands.

"Is there no way to make them taller?" He asked Qyburn.

"I'm afraid not," The maester replied, "The larger they are the larger the wings needed, and the less stamina the creature will have. As it stands even these will bear only the smallest weapons and certainly no armor."

"They'll have to do," The wizard replied, "Have them brought down to the breeding pits."

Qyburn opened each of the cages and the creatures filed out, "You heard the master!" He yelled, his commanding voice had improved over the months of working with orcs, "Get downstairs now!" He made as if to strike the nearest orc and it shrieked, shuffling down the stairs quickly. The rest followed.

"I will meet you below," Saruman said, gesturing for Qyburn to continue down with his creations, "There are things I must attend to first." Qyburn merely nodded and left without another word, Saruman suspected that Qyburn knew at least some of the Palantir's nature, though he had not yet asked the Wizard about it's use.

As he ascended the stairs back to the room containing the crystalline orb he pondered what would be done when he obtained the ring, Gandalf, he thought, he will have an opportunity to bow, but if he does not… He smiled. He reached the Palantir and drew the cloth from it, placing his hand on it's smooth surface.

As he looked far afield he saw Osgiliath, that ancient city of the men of Gondor, in greater ruin than before. The men of the Westerlands were dividing up, some marching home, others remaining. They know of Joffrey's attack then… he turned his gaze to the West, the Banefort specifically. It now flew a standard depicting a black stag on a golden background, goblins stood on it's ramparts, and the great wall that had been under construction was now abandoned.

"It seems they've fallen on difficult times, those Lannisters." He whirled around to see another wispy figure shimmer into existence, a tanned man of middle age with a black eye patch and a wild air about him. "Saruman the White I presume?"

"Euron Greyjoy…" Saruman replied with a forced smile, "I had wondered when you would approach me, we serve the same master after all…"
"Do we?" He smirked, "How go things on land?"

"Well enough," Saruman said defensively, "Both Rohan and the Westerlands will soon be under my dominion," and all Middle Earth with them he thought.

Euron nodded, "Odd that you would fly your own banners and not those of the eye..."

"Do your ships not bear a golden kraken Greyjoy?" Saruman replied, his eyes narrowing.

Euron gave an exaggerated shrug, that smug smile never leaving his face, "It's different at sea, an admiral needs to differentiate ships… But I didn't come here to talk about the proper way to fly a standard."

"Then what did you come here to say?" Saruman asked impatiently.

"I've watched you, as you've no doubt watched me, and I have certain… suspicions lord Wizard." They were suddenly overlooking the Shire, where hobbits were now beating plowshares into swords and practicing with spears in the town squares. "I believe you seek the ultimate prize for yourself."

"And if I do?" Saruman asked, the wind beginning to blow his hair back, a fire lighting in his eyes.

"I only wish to let you know that if you should succeed in your play that you might have a friend in me," Euron replied, stroking his own beard and watching a pair of hobbits begin a duel.

"And why should I trust one who's loyalties are so easily swayed?" the Wizard replied. They were suddenly over the seas, where many ships with great black sails were sailing North, golden Krakens embroidered on their sails.

"Whether I serve you, Sauron, or no master at all, I will still be the lord of the seas and master of the storm," from somewhere far away thunder rumbled, "You contend with two masters for my loyalties, Sauron and myself, the eye has promised me the seas, and I've promised them to myself, so long as you promise them to me as well I would be content to follow you should your hour arrive."

Saruman raised an eyebrow, "I can grant that promise, now begone from my sight."

"As you wish," Euron laughed, the foul sound echoed as he faded out of the palantir.

Saruman pulled his own hand off the Palantir, and the room in Orthanc again filled his vision, Greyjoy, he thought, A madman to be sure, but I will need lieutenants in my new order... He decided to consider the matter later.

He walked down to meet Qyburn in the great earthen pits below the tower. Though they were deep underground there was ample light from the fires of the forges and the torches lining the walls. When he arrived Qyburn had already sealed several of the winged creatures in the birthing pits that had been used to create the Uruk-Hai. Seeing him approach the Maester stepped aside as Saruman tapped his staff against the stirring muck and muttered incantions, allowing his power to flow into the earth. Movement stirred and he smiled.

"Let us retire Maester Qyburn," he said as he entered the elevator back up to the surface. Qyburn followed behind him and soon they were back in the tower of Orthanc. Saruman was about to leave for his study when Qyburn surprised him with a question.

"Lord Saruman… do you seek the ring?"

He stopped and looked at his maester, an eyebrow raised, "Where did you hear of the ring?" he asked suspiciously.

"You gave me full access to your library my lord," the maester said uncertainly, "I have been reading about more than anatomy, truthfully I had hoped to discover what our goal is."

Saruman thought for a moment before responding, "It was my place to counsel and work against Sauron and all of his foul works, to that end I have learned more of him and his strength than any of the Wise. It has become clear to me that there is no contesting the will of Sauron save by the possession of the ruling ring." He paused a moment, "I have worked alongside those who seek it's destruction, and alongside it's master… If I can attain mastery over it then all of Middle Earth will be mine as well."

"And if it cannot be obtained?" Qyburn asked quietly.

"It will be," he said firmly. He paused, gauging Qyburn's reaction.

"The die is cast then isn't it?" Qyburn said with a smile, "I'm sworn to your service in any event."

Saruman found himself somewhat relieved to hear that, "Maester Qyburn… when I have mastered the One Ring I shall forge others, as the elves and the Dark Lord did in days of old. They will be given to faithful servants…" he let the implication hang in the air.

Qyburn nodded, "I have read a little of the power offered by these rings… pray tell does eternal life come with eternal youth too? I don't know if eternity is worth it with this back."

Saruman found himself laughing, and soon the maester joined him, "I'm certain that easing your pain is among the works the ring is capable of," he said as the laughter faded.

"You know I've been offered eternal life before," Qyburn said absently, "Several times in fact, the first was a Tyroshi trader trying to sell me some manner of ointment… the second was a red priest, but that was of a spiritual nature I believe…"

"My promises are genuine," Saruman said, "See to your duties Maester Qyburn, I shall be in my chambers." The two parted ways and the wizard was free to contemplate the coming war with Rohan.

A/N: Reviews

Hotrod333 - After all that she's seen she believes in elves now.

DuesalBladesinger - Those rebel lords think this is just another play in the game of thrones, on another note that lost Reyne bastard is probably about as real as Aegon Targaryen is in canon.

L'etranger0 - This fic is going to take awhile to finish and I don't want to plan any more right now. A Hobbit era story might be more fun with a smaller faction, The Night's Watch or Danaerys and her unsullied finding themselves north of Erebor could be pretty fun.

Weylandcorp4 - the Banefort's upgrade was under construction, it wasn't quite finished yet and attacking before it was completed was a vital part of Saruman's plan. The Westerlands is mostly mountainous so goblins might have a slight advantage there, but overall they're probably going to fold before Jaime and his veteran troops... the biggest problem is the rebels and now Saruman's plots.