"They must have an impressive trade here," Shay observed, indicating the tangle of merchant stalls that crowded the area between the buildings and the docks. "Although the towns do not look very prosperous..."
Avari grunted and started down the hill, slipping and sliding on the treacherous footing. The others followed, hesitant as their descent immersed them in the rancid smoke.
"Uh! What a stench!" DoHeney clasped a hand on his nose in a futile attempt to block the acrid smell.
"What is that?" Lynthalsea asked, making a face.
The smell sparked a memory in Shay's mind, but he decided to say nothing for the time being.
Smoke spewed from every chimney, and the marketplace was afog with it. The breeze that wafted in from seaward only served to block the escape of the foul air, smothering the little valley with its own filth. The stuff clung to their hair, skin and clothing, engulfing them in the stench.
As they entered the town, grimy faces stared out from the lengthening shadows. Hungry gazes lingered on them, cruel, experienced eyes gauging the profit that might be made versus the weapons openly displayed. Children in rags ran barefoot through icy streets, their cries of hunger echoing the poverty that screamed from their hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes.
A small boy sat in a trash-strewn alley, beating a worn tin cup against a flat stone. Avari knelt in front of the waif, but the frequency of his pounding went unchanged and his glassy gaze remained vacant. When she withdrew a silver coin to hold before his face, the boy's noise ceased. His eyes focused on the money, and his mouth slowly drew wide with a silent cry. Suddenly, the tiny figure lunged, a scream escaping as an animal yelp. Avari tumbled over backward, barely evading the rusty kitchen knife that lashed at her face. Before she could even think, the boy snatched the coin and dashed down the alley.
"Are you hurt?" Shay asked in alarm, helping her up.
"No. I..." She shook her head, confused. "He tried to kill me! Over a coin I was going to give him anyway."
"Aye, there's somethin' queer about this place." DoHeney's confusion was mirrored by the others. "No wonder me kin take their business to Beriknor. Me thinks we'd better keep a sharp eye out and make it as short a stay as possible."
There were no arguments as they continued into the town, heading for the markets or the docks where there was sure to be some sort of inn. The marketplace greeted them with a pall of smog so thick that they all fought to stifle coughs. But instead of merchants selling cloth, pottery, finery and foodstuffs, all the stalls were outfitted with the same huge fire pits. Rows and rows of roots were being dried on heavy metal racks. The fresh tubers—bulbous, wet and slimy—oozed a viscous, green fluid that dripped onto the coals. Each oily drop ignited briefly before vanishing in a puff of pungent smoke.
Strangely, the men and women tending the fires and packing the dried roots into tight bundles did not seem bothered by the fumes. In fact, many leaned into the smoke to inhale deeply. Some even chewed on the roots themselves, sucking out the juice and spitting out the tough fibers. One woman sprawled unconscious against a nearby wall, a gnawed bulb in an outstretched hand. An infant lay beside her, alternately wailing and shaking uncontrollably. Shay heard a sob; Lynthalsea had tears rolling down her cheeks as she stared at the babe.
Oh dear gods, the priest thought. What are we doing in this place?
"DoHeney, Avari," Shay snapped as he grabbed Lynthalsea's arm, "follow me. We will find an inn on the other side of town."
"But what—" Avari started to complain, but was silenced by the warning in Shay's eyes. Even in her present disposition, she knew better than to question him in this.
Gripping Lynthalsea's arm with one hand and his weapon with the other, Shay led his friends across a crumbling bridge and out of the marketplace. Glancing back, he shuddered at the suspicion, fear and insanity in the faces that were swallowed by the swirling eddies of smoke.
"I'm starved," Avari announced as soon as they took their seats in the seedy inn's dining hall. "I want one of everything, and then seconds."
"Me, too," agreed DoHeney, giggling as he fumbled with his chair. He fell into Avari and she swatted him so hard that he fell on the floor. Oddly, the dwarf just sat on the floor, giggling and holding his sides, tears running down face.
"What is so blasted funny?" asked Shay. The laughter inflamed the pounding migraine that threatened to tear his head off his shoulders. It did not help matters that Lynthalsea clung to his arm, whimpering piteously. One night to get some rest, Shay promised himself, then we leave!
The companions' strange behavior had begun soon after departing the fog-shrouded market. The fetid haze had followed them across the river, dissipating at the edge of town, but the damage had been done. Shay watched Avari and DoHeney eat as if they had been starved for weeks. Lynthalsea picked at her plate, only eating when Shay insisted that she needed the energy. Later, when they retired to their room and finally showed signs of recovery from the effect of the intoxicating smoke, the priest explained exactly what kind of town they were in.
"Lotus root. It's a potent drug." Shay eased himself onto the lumpy straw pallet. His head was still in danger of detonating, but he intended to soothe the pain with an herbal remedy as soon as possible. "There is a large trade for the dried lotus roots gathered from the deep swamps. It is promoted as being able to impart wisdom, strength and vitality, but it is all a lie. It gives visions of well being, but most users end up like those we have seen in the street today: sick, impoverished, or dead." He shook his head in disgust.
Shay looked up to three pairs of blank eyes: Lynthalsea's red-rimmed from crying, Avari's and DoHeney's with glazed stares that made the half-elf shudder.
"Get some rest. We leave in the morning."
"All this pussy-footing around is driving me crazy!" complained Calmarel, glaring as she paced past her sister for the hundredth time that hour. "He's got us penned up in here like bugs under a cup! I can't stand not knowing what in the Nine Hells is going on out there, but if I try to scry, he'll know we're spying on him."
"He could very well be observing us right now, sister younger," Lysethra said in annoyance. She'd been trying to meditate, but it was impossible with Calmarel's complaints. "So why don't you just relax and use the time for something constructive."
"He's not watching," Calmarel said. She withdrew her spider amulet and let it dangle from its barbed chain. "This would have told me if any of his magics were at work."
She tucked the pendant back into hiding as a knock sounded at the door and the portal opened to reveal their brother. He bowed low and greeted his sisters warmly.
"You have recovered from your travels, I trust?" At their nods he continued. "Very good. If you are rested, perhaps you would enjoy a little tour of my operation here. It is really quite impressive in its size alone."
"That would be most interesting, Iveron," Lysethra answered, quelling any retort from her hot-tempered sister. "I believe that the more we know of your situation here, the easier we can convince the council of its merit."
Calmarel's eyes narrowed at the armed escort as Iveron conducted his sisters on a survey of the level, including the training and armory facilities, the mess hall and several barracks.
"There are seven more levels similar to this one," Iveron said as they passed another file of marching soldiers. Lysethra nodded politely, committing the information to memory for future use. "All are similarly manned, except for the upper, and lower-most levels, which house special contingents." They were rounding a corner into a quiet corridor when he spoke again.
"And here is something I thought you especially would appreciate, Calmarel." He swung a pair of double doors open to reveal a dim chamber dominated by a stone altar in the center.
Two priests knelt to either side of the slab, chanting in monotone. Atop lay a battered and stripped body, the grayish hue of the skin evidence of its lifelessness. A pile of clothing, weapons and other possessions lay beside the altar.
"I caught th
is thief fleeing after he and his companions tried to abscond with some of my possessions," Iveron admitted. "Unfortunately, the others escaped. My priests have been trying to extract some useful information from his spirit, but it seems that they haven't the skill."
Lysethra caught his sidelong glance at Calmarel, who stared longingly at the chill yet once-powerful form on the altar. What are you planning, Iveron? she wondered. He obviously wanted their help, but she knew he was not so naïve as to give them free reign here. There was no telling what the thief's spirit could tell them.
"We may be able to help," she said as if it was of no concern to her one way or the other.
"Could you?" Her brother's eyes widened as if the idea were novel to him. Lysethra nearly laughed; he was so transparent. "I would be grateful. It was only a trinket that was stolen, but I would like the opportunity to punish the perpetrators."
Lysethra watched Calmarel move toward the cold, stone platform, oblivious to their banter as she ran her slim fingers over the deep gash along the corpse's neck and shoulder.
"How long?" the younger sister asked one of the attending priests, not taking her gaze from the body.
"But a few days, Mistress," he croaked, obviously exhausted. "Making contact is not a problem; his spirit is not yet beyond our reach. But this one is very... well, defiant, to say the least."
"We will see how defiant he can be," Calmarel said, a quirky smile tugging at her cruel lips as her hand strayed to the spider pendant nestled between her breasts.
"Clear this rabble out of here, Iveron," she said with a wave of her hand. "I will need quiet to do this right." She traced her fingers down the corpse's broad chest, rustling the curly hair.
"You may stay if you wish, brother; someone will have to ask the questions."
Iveron smiled, and Lysethra saw satisfaction there. He had never intended to leave his prize alone with his sisters.
What information do you hold? Lysethra wondered, her interest piqued. She heard Iveron order his minions from room and slam the heavy doors.
With a wave of her hand Calmarel quenched the braziers, but the room was not plunged into complete darkness. Calmarel's glowing pendant illuminated her face, intensifying as guttural words of power began to flow from her upward curved lips.
Shay was already up when Avari rolled out of bed and heaved the remains of the previous night's dinner into a chamber pot. DoHeney fared better, but his usually rosy cheeks hung like pasty lumps of lard, his mischievous smirk absent. Groaning, they shouldered their packs while Shay concocted one of his herbal cures. The brew settled their stomachs and eased their pounding heads, but did nothing to relieve the general feeling of dishevelment, filth and fatigue. Dragging themselves back out into the grimy streets—which were not much worse than the bug-infested room in which they had spent the night—the four headed for the south road out of town. The innkeeper had assured them that they would find a provisioner and a horse-seller before they traveled far.
Even dreadfully hung-over and festering in her foul mood, Avari had the skill to choose four decent mounts and a mule for carrying supplies. Shay bartered for the horses, tack and harness, and with two dire-looking warriors behind him, paid a reasonable price. As he turned away, he noticed a dark, lanky man leaning against the corral fence, a horse tied next to him. The man was ill-kempt, sporting a greasy-looking mustache that hung below his chin, but his eyes were clear of the haze that spoke of addiction to lotus root, which was good enough.
"Excuse me." The priest came directly to the point. "We are beginning a journey to the southeast and need someone who can both tend to our horses and provide guidance. Would you be interested in the position?"
The man grinned at Shay and spat through gaped and blackened teeth. "Maybe, if the price is right."
Before Shay could name one, he was shouldered roughly from behind. "Don't you trust me to tend the horses?" Avari's words were low and harsh, edged in anger, but her eyes gave away her fears.
"Avari," he answered gently, "I expected that you would want to take personal charge of the horses, and have no doubts that you will give them the best of care. However, those whom we shall be visiting do not tend to live in grassy meadows. We may have to leave them while we are occupied elsewhere."
Avari accepted his reasoning with a reluctant nod. Turning, she cast a derisive glance toward the dark man and was met with a sly wink. Only DoHeney's quick covert action, pulling his pony in front of Avari while yelling for help, saved the stranger from feeling the sharpness of more than just her glare.
I shall have to watch him carefully, thought Shay, concluding the hiring. Not only was the man going to aggravate Avari, but he was leering at Lynthalsea as well. The priest sighed as he turned back toward his friends.
Avari was cinching the straps of her saddle, casting a murderous glare at their new employee. DoHeney was trying to remain seated upon his mount. And Lynthalsea was near the corral petting—talking to?—a mangy dog.
Shay rolled his eyes toward the heavens, Holy Tem, will you please tell me how I ever got mixed up with this group?
When the double doors reopened and the three Darkmists emerged, only one of them looked satisfied with the interrogation. Iveron muttered to himself in disbelief at the useless drivel that had been extracted from the tribesman's spirit, and Lysethra pouted, disgruntled that no hints to Iveron's new-found power had been revealed. Calmarel, however, wore a tilted smile that hinted of amused interest.
It had taken several hours to wrest even the vaguest of answers from the man's stubborn spirit. Torments that would have reduced most to sniveling passivity had only drawn insolence. In the end, however, the man—Jundag—had revealed the identities of his accomplices: a horse farmer's daughter, a city-spawned priest and a demented dwarf. Calmarel had almost laughed at the look on Iveron's face when he found that he had been robbed by a bunch of inept petty thieves. But that was all the information she could get. The tribesman had known nothing of their destination, or even where they were originally from. Iveron ordered the disposal of the now-useless body and its belongings, then turned to thank his sisters for their efforts.
"I have urgent matters to which I must attend, so I bid you farewell." He bowed low once again. "Please deliver my plans to the council as soon as possible. Their assistance is imperative to the success of my initial assault."
"Rest assured, Iveron," Lysethra responded, "the council chambers will be our first destination upon our return. I am sorry we could not extract more useful information for you."
"No matter." Iveron dismissed the matter with a wave. "My concerns lie only in the council's response to my plans."
"You have little to worry about, then. Calmarel and I can be most persuasive when we apply ourselves."
"So I have seen. Fare thee well, sisters!" The Lord-Nekdukarr General of Clan Darkmist whirled on his heel and receded into the shadows.
Calmarel and Lysethra exchanged knowing glances, then moved silently down the corridor; not toward their chambers, nor toward the lower caverns and the exit, but on a path to overtake the guard who was dragging away Jundag's lifeless corpse.
CHAPTER 35
Come on you flea-bitten piece-uh meat! Move!" Haseeva Ben Hadalli shook water from his greasy moustache and jerked the rein again, coaxing the mule into motion. "Never thought I'd be wishing it'd get colder, but I'd trade mud for frozen ground any day! Musta been crazy to hitch up with these four in the first place, fools without the sense to make camp in a rain storm!"
The companions' hireling continued his diatribe, unheeded by his miserable employers. Their camp the first evening had been a heartening dozen leagues from Twin Towns, thanks in a large part to a solidly frozen road. During that night, however, the weather changed; a breeze blew off the sea, bringing a mass of warmer, moisture-laden air. The snow turned to rain, and the frozen ground to mud. By morning the rain settled down to a drizzle.
They decided to travel on despite the rain and Hadalli's grumbling. It
was not long before they were muddied and chilled, but their discomfort earned them no reprieve. By early afternoon blacker clouds rolled in like soldiers to a siege, their rumbling thunder akin to the drums of war. The plodding horses slowed as the rain pooled on the road, and the companions shivered as it breached the meager protection their drenched cloaks.
Avari heard Hadalli's complaints but could not bring herself to reprimand him. Her dire mood was melting into a heavy, dull ache. Even now, in this miserable rain and cold, the strong, rhythmic sway of the horse beneath her perked up her spirits, the familiarity reminding her of happier days. She peeked out from under her hood as a huge drop spattered onto her face from an overhanging branch. She shook off the moisture, stifling a sneeze. On impulse she tossed back her hood and gazed up into the weeping sky. She imagined that she was alone, free to travel where she would, no one's responsibility and responsible for no one.
Like I was responsible for Jundag. The spark of joy faded with the thought. He had argued against descending into Zellohar, but she had persuaded him. His death hung on her soul like a chain around the feet of a drowning man.
Dear Eloss, Avari prayed as she closed her eyes and spread her arms to the leaden sky, the tears of the heavens streaking down her cheeks into the collar of her tunic, wash away my sorrows and sins, and help me to avenge him.
She felt a subtle peace spread through her before another disturbing thought coalesced in her mind. Will I be responsible for the deaths of my other friends, too? She shook her head to banish the idea, plastering wet strands of hair to her face. Peeling them off, she opened her eyes to find that her horse had stopped and her friends were staring back at her. Shay looked worried and Lynthalsea sad, while DoHeney mumbled something under his breath, but they were alive and well.
A sudden impish impulse—common before Zellohar, but absent of late—overwhelmed Avari. "Lovely weather for a ride in the country, isn't it?" she said, enjoying the expressions as they changed from worried to startled.
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