Boat horns.
His eyes widened when he realized what that cave was. “It’s a port!” he said, barely able to contain his excitement. “This city is a … subterranean port? We are above sea level? But how can this be? We started our descent from Ezoi’s port. We should be below sea level. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Not so,” Jin replied. “You didn’t notice, but the crates, like Ezoi, are thousands of feet above sea level, up on the back of a hill. The port itself is inside a bay that you access through a mechanized lift.”
That makes sense, Ahiram thought. I flew in by night, south of Ezoi this time around. When Jedarc, Noraldeen, Banimelek and I were sent on a mission in Mycene two years ago, we traveled inside a sealed cart so we didn’t get to see the port either.
“Contrary to what your kin think,” Jin continued, “not all dwarfs are alike. From what you told us, the dwarfs in Tanniin are miners. My kin are traders. There is a slight competition between these two guilds, and a few other ones, among the dwarfs.”
“Interesting,” Ahiram replied absentmindedly. “I wonder why it was not mentioned in the Karangalatad.”
“Who told you about our sacred text?” Jinodus the Elder interjected. He was visibly shocked.
“It was part of a barter,” Ahiram replied cautiously. “An exchange of information with two other dwarfs. We went through the ritual of distrust, mistrust, trust, entrust, and all of that, then I told them some things they wanted to know, and they told me about the history of the dwarfs consigned to the Karangalatad.”
Jinodus the Elder grunted. “My sense tells me they told you what you needed to knowingly know, for no amount of bartered bartering—even if measurably measured in gold of purest purity—would have led any respecting dwarfish dwarf to tellingly tell a foreign foreigner about the Karangalatad.”
Ahiram smiled. And here I was, thinking I cut a good deal when I spoke to Orwutt and Zurwott.
“Welcome to Karak-Zuun, Ahiram, son of Tanios the Truthful.”
Ahiram was taken aback by the salutation. The three dwarfs bowed low before the elder she-dwarf who faced them. She wore a long, white cotton dress with a gold head cover, gold silken boots, and in her right hand, she held an ornate staff unlike any Ahiram had seen before.
“Jinodus the Elder, Jinorus, son of Jinodus, and Jinomus brother of Jinorus, I thank you for your prompt handling of this matter. You may take leave now with Karak-Zuun’s blessing.”
The three dwarfs stepped backward onto the bridge. Ahiram was amazed. He faced the she-dwarf and bowed.
“I am Farveen, the harbor mistress of Karak-Zuun,” she said. Her tone hardened when she addressed Jin.
“Jinoike,” she hissed, “tell me why I should not order you flogged forty whips of salted wax cords.”
Ahiram tensed immediately and stepped in front of Jin. “She is under my protection,” he said tersely.
Farveen’s eyes brightened and a soft chuckle shook her frame. “Do not mock me young one,” she said dismissively. “This mark on your arm,” she added, resting the tip of her staff on the medallion with an alacrity that surprised Ahiram, “tells me you are far too cocky and far too needy to lay claims of protection. Step aside and let me address my runaway slave.”
Shocked, Ahiram looked at Jin. She’s a runaway slave?
“Ahiram, let me handle this,” Jin pleaded. “Do not make it more difficult than it is.”
Reluctantly, Ahiram moved aside.
“Mistress Farveen,” Jin said, “the matter of my flogging may have to wait. Ebaan has claimed him.”
The harbor mistress gave a start. “This is no place to speak of such matters,” she added. “Follow me.”
She turned around and walked toward a massive double-panel maple and oak door with a gold axe encrusted in the wood. The door was framed by a triple arch and was accessed by a flight of white marble stairs. The wall was covered in marble, and Ahiram realized the city of Karak-Zuun was not a simple hole; it was decked with jewelry and gold like the richest of cities.
As they climbed down the stairs, he sensed a presence behind them. He glanced back and saw four dwarfs dressed in full battle gear with helmets, shields, gauntlets, and high boots. They each carried a massive battle axe. They were clad in black, save for the hems of their tunics, the tops of their boots, and the rims of their helmets, which were in the brightest silver Ahiram had seen.
“The Jurax,” Jin whispered, “guardians of the city. They are as dangerous as the creatures of the tajéruun,” she added furtively. “Do not underestimate them.”
Ahiram nodded.
The inside of the highest story of the city was an arrangement of open terraces with water fountains flowing into a small river that rippled gently between flowering shrubs and trees.
They grow things here? wondered Ahiram. How?
He did not ask and no one ventured an explanation. Farveen guided them through a maze of smaller gardens to an esplanade overlooking the port on the other side of the building. From there the view was breathtaking, for through a series of well-positioned torches and apertures of sunlight, he had an incomparable view of the port, as if he stood on top of a mountain overlooking the sea. Despite the late hour, the port was in full swing with dwarfs loading and unloading ships at breakneck speed. Straight down, set on terraces, sculptures of cooks, bakers, merchants, mothers with infants, and a father carrying his daughter on his broad shoulders stood in a pastoral field of cherry trees in full bloom. The trees and every blade of grass were sculpted as well. Above, a large stone reflecting the light of day shone like a quiet sun. Ahiram felt nostalgic. Even though the scenery was dwarfish, it reminded him of Baher-Ghafé.
“Amazing,” Ahiram whispered. “Simply amazing.”
Farveen chuckled and bowed her head. “Please sit,” she added. “Refreshments are served.”
The refreshments were more like a full-course dinner worthy of a king: roasted chickens, pork roast, stuffed turkey, cutlets of duck, and tender venison, all surrounded by a mouth-watering gravy Ahiram was unfamiliar with. A second platter boasted lobster, octopus, squid, and a variety of fish cutlets. A third platter carried an assortment of garden vegetables, and a fourth platter was laden with dates, apples, apricots, and even cherries.
Where did they get cherries? This isn’t the season, thought Ahiram.
He ate quickly and ravenously, for he was famished. Jin, sitting next to him, nibbled slowly while Farveen sipped on a hot cup of dwarfish tea; a mixture of black tea and sweet red wine.
After dinner, servants brought three hookahs. Ahiram declined politely. He never liked water pipes or any other forms of smoking in general, and he had a real dislike for the dwarfish contraption set before him. It looked like an obscene creature with two vases protruding like belching bellies, each with its own reservoir of water. Dwarfs were known to mix tobacco with other less innocent ingredients, and the murky water lurking in the two vases had its own concoction to enhance the taste of the heated tobacco as it traveled down to the bowls and back up into the smoking tube.
Lazily, Farveen grabbed a pipe, raised it up as if she were toasting Ahiram, then inhaled sharply and clapped a satisfied tongue. She eyed him and smiled.
“Do you know why she-dwarfs use the common tongue and not dwarfish, son of Tanios?”
This was the second time she had called him son of Tanios. He knew in dwarfish terms this meant the tribe of Tanios, but still, he found the appellative disturbing. Jabbar is my father, he thought. So what is the commander to me? My owner, my master, my second … A well of conflicting emotions threatened to take his attention away from Farveen, and he firmly focused once more on the harbor mistress. “No, I do not, Harbor-Mistress Farveen,” he replied.
“Because we are not considered dwarfs,” she said while inspecting the tip of the porcelain mouthpiece. She blew in it and air gargled in the two bellies of the contraption before exiting through the release valve. “I shall have a word with the head cook,” she muttered.
“He should know better than to mess with my hookah.”
“I do not understand,” said Ahiram.
“In the Karangalatad, there is a story about a she-dwarf who betrays her nation. You know, we consider the Karangalatad to be the collective memory of the dwarfish nation. It binds us together and keeps us united. Without it, the dwarfs would live in discord and strife. Tribe would rise against tribe, vying for total dominance. Strike down the Karangalatad and you destroy our nation, young one.”
I wonder why she’s telling me this. I don’t like how she talks to me. In fact, I don’t like her.
“Did you know,” continued Farveen, now surrounded by an azure cloud, “that the Karangalatad mentions she-dwarfs only once?” She leaned over and pointed the hose at him as if to accuse him of a crime. “Once, young Silent. Once, and it charges us with betrayal to boot. Listen to what our collective memory says about she-dwarfs: ‘This betraying betrayal act of a leading she-dwarf was profoundly profound. The magnifying magnitude of its tragically tragic effects were of such magnified magnification, they dealt the dwarfish nation an unrecoverable blowing blow. No she-dwarf hereafter shall be considerably considered or considered with any due consideration as a full-fledged citizen of the dwarfish nation. She-dwarfs shall henceforth, and until otherwise notably noted in the Karangalatad, be appropriately appropriated as a lesser formative form of dwarfish life.’ This is the only mention made of a she-dwarf in the whole of the Karangalatad.”
“So dwarfs can be obtuse and stupid,” Ahiram said. Jin winced and Farveen laughed buoyantly. “What was the tragic event that brought about such a verdict?”
Farveen inhaled deeply, the gurgling sound of the hookah murmured above the muffled sounds of the port below. “The she-dwarf in question led the enemy to Andaxil, the most magnificent cave ever built by hands of dwarfs, where our greatest treasures are hidden. She brought our enemy to the gates of Andaxil, which was then destroyed.”
“Ah.” Ancient history, why does she care?
“Do you think if it were a dwarf who had committed such a heinous crime, the Karangalatad would have imposed such a sanction on them? The Karangalatad is composed by them, and now you know why she-dwarfs are forbidden from using the higher form of speech. We are ‘appropriately appropriated as a lesser formative form of dwarfish life.’ Interesting fact, would you not say, young one?”
Ahiram nodded. Here it comes, he thought. The reason why she’s telling me all this. Get ready.
“Which is why, when this ill-begotten child of mine,” she pointed an accusing finger at Jin, “betrays me and my city, and then has the gall to come back with you, a fugitive hunted by a tajèr with the power to lay waste to our entire operation, I have every right to put this wretched creature to death. Don’t you think so, son of Tanios?”
A stunned silence followed, interrupted only by the gentle gurgle of the hookah. Ahiram glanced at Jin then back to Farveen. “You call your own flesh and blood a slave?”
“Dwarfs have no qualms in trading their own as slaves if it serves their interests,” Farveen snapped. “I don’t expect you to understand. Answer my question.”
The words from the Book of Lamentation, chapter one, verse one came to Ahiram: The Silent who seeks knowledge to benefit his curiosity, instead of wisdom to benefit his mission, will lose every argument and taste bitter defeat. Carefully, he began the arduous task of snatching control of the conversation away from Farveen. “Are you afraid the tajèr will use this medallion to locate Karak-Zuun?”
“This medallion, as you so carelessly call it, is the reason why Dariöm allowed you to escape. He wanted you to escape. Did you stop to think why he kept her alive? Why he did not kill her? He knew she would lead you back to us. I would not be surprised if she is working for him.”
Ahiram looked at Jin. “Is this true, Jin? Do you work for him?”
“Whatever I say won’t matter,” the young she-dwarf replied. “She has already decided my fate.”
“Why bring me here if you knew you might die?”
She leaned in to Ahiram. “Save my friend. You must save her!”
Ahiram struggled to understand. “How can I save her? I thought you told me she is with Ebaan.”
Farveen snorted loudly. “Oh, the wicked plan you contrived, child. I must say I am impressed. I really did not expect such craftiness in one such as yourself.”
“I learned from the best,” Jin sneered.
Fast as a snake, Farveen moved to strike Jin, only to see her arm held by an even faster fist.
“Easy now,” Ahiram said.
“Let go of me or I will …” The four guards gripped their axes with both hands and took a step forward.
“I will shatter your wrist beyond repair,” the Silent said in an affable tone. “I suggest you tell your guards to stand down, and you start acting like a harbor mistress who will listen to her guest and let him speak.”
She looked at him through eyes filled with venom and yanked her arm away. She glanced at the four dwarfs who stepped back into the shadows. “Talk then,” she said contemptuously.
“This medallion, can you remove it?”
“Not without killing you,” Farveen jeered.
“I didn’t know it was that bad,” Jin added hastily. “I thought someone here could help.”
“You did not know it was this bad,” Farveen shouted, “and you brought him here? You endangered our entire operation, you, a she-dwarf. With one stroke, you may have destroyed the work of a lifetime. I have been laboring to restore our name, to have that accursed statement stricken from the Karangalatad, and you betray us?”
Ah, so now I understand, thought Ahiram. “So help me turn that situation around,” he interjected. “Help me turn this into a victory.”
Farveen scoffed. “How?”
“If you can’t remove this medallion from my arm, who can?”
“This is magic beyond dwarfish understanding. This medallion is a one-of-a-kind. We have not seen it before. The tajèr can remove it or …”
“Ebaan,” Jin finished softly.
Ahiram turned to Jin. “Are you certain he can remove it?”
Jin looked at her mother and nodded. “Yes, he can. He has the keys to most magic.”
“What does he look like, this Ebaan? Where does he come from?”
Jin looked at him then turned her gaze away. “We don’t know.”
“We do know a few things about him,” her mother countered. “No one has truly seen him because he can take on many shapes. Long ago, when he was still a mere man, the Temple convicted him of murder and sentenced him to the Arayat. Somehow he managed to escape the Spell World, but his body was damaged beyond repair. The Arayat gave him extensive magical powers he has used to accumulate riches beyond the wildest dreams of a tajèr.”
“What does he want? Why become so rich?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Farveen snorted derisively. “A body. He wants to be real again. The Arayat stripped him of himself, turned him into a wraith of sorts. He wants to be human once more.”
“That’s one theory,” Jin whispered. “There are others.”
“So he can remove this medallion from my arm then?”
“Any magical artifact flies to him like bees to honey. He attracts them and they come to him freely.” Farveen took a deep drag on the hookah and slowly exhaled. “Whether he will want to do it or not is a different story.”
He looked at Jin. “Do you know how to reach him? Can you take me to him?” She nodded. “Farveen, listen,” Ahiram said, “the longer I stay here, the greater the danger could be for you. Killing me would do you no good—”
“Why? We could sever that limb of yours and throw it far into the sea where he could not find it.”
“Killing me will be a bit more taxing on your city than anticipated. For instance, from where I sit right now, I could dispose of the five dwarfs who have been watching us and bring down enough fire to destroy the ships in your port and half this city.” His ton
e was dangerous now, and his eyes shone with a fire Farveen had seldom seen before.
“Words,” she sneered, “empty promises—”
Ahiram unsheathed his sword and cleaved through a nearby rock, then stowed his sword back in its scabbard while a hunk of rock fell away.
“You were saying?” he asked. She blanched and signaled to the guards, who drew closer. Ahiram sighed, trying to contain his mounting anger. “I’m not your enemy, Farveen, regardless of what you might think. I want the same thing as you, so give us a bit of food, water, some horses, and let us be on our way.”
“You have not told me how you would help stave off the tajéruun.”
“Simple, as soon as they pick up my trail, they will be after me, and I’m willing to bet they find me a more important target than this city.”
She eyed him surprised. “You mean you are more important to the tajèr than my city?”
“Do you want to find out?”
She eyed him silently. He could see she was mulling over his words carefully. “Suppose you get Ebaan to remove the medallion. What happens next?”
“I will find a way to persuade Dariöm to leave you alone.”
“And if you can’t?”
“Then it won’t matter, will it? If he can get to me, he will most likely get to you. Not today, not tomorrow, but eventually he will. It’s that simple. You’re living on borrowed time. It’s as simple as that.”
Farveen jutted her chin dismissively at Jin. “What about her?”
“She comes with me,” Ahiram said. “I think she’s acting out of desperation. She wants to save a friend. It’s entirely possible that she struck a deal with Dariöm. It’s even likely that she will try to betray me. Her willingness to help me with the antidote and the rest of it may have been a ploy, a scheme to get what she wants. But right now what matters most is for her to get us to Ebaan, which she will do since that is where her friend is held prisoner.”
“And what do you know about this precious friend my worthless daughter wants saved?” Farveen said.
“No,” Jin cut in. She was as taut as a drawn bow. “You have no right to speak of her that way. You don’t have that right—”
The Wretched Race (Epic of Ahiram Book 3) Page 22