“It is,” replied a zakiir. “These are the transactions for this week.”
The clerk pointed to a bag sitting on the table. “We have 637 bags.”
“Are you certain?” asked Milaniöm, who knew the answer already. The clerks counted the bags every day for seven days before emptying them. They were never wrong.
“Count the empty bags,” ordered one of the zakiruun.
The clerks divvied up the empty bags into three piles and went about counting them. They rotated the piles until each clerk had counted all the bags. They looked at one another and nodded.
“Sir, we counted 636 bags,” said another clerk.
All present focused on the one bag sitting untouched on the table.
“Could it be a trap?” asked one the clerks.
“Impossible,” snapped the tajèr, “there are 144 spells protecting this door.” He pulled an oblong medallion with a dull surface from under his shirt. “Without one of these, you would die trying to cross this door.”
“What should we do?” asked a zakiir.
“Open the bag,” commanded Milaniöm. “See what’s in it.”
One of the clerks took the sack, loosened the leather tie and stretched open the mouth of bag. Cautiously he peered inside and pulled out a woman’s glove sagging with its heavy contents. He peeked inside the glove and breathed a sigh of relief. “Gold coins, sir,” he said, smiling.
“Count them,” barked the moneyman. “Count them now.”
While the clerks were counting, Milaniöm grabbed the glove and examined it closely. It was a refined garment, with an intricate design lacing each finger and three small white pearls on the right side of the cuff. It looked vaguely familiar. An image formed in his mind that slowly came into focus: Lady Niral playing with a glove, while speaking to him.
“We finished, sir,” said the clerk.
What is this glove doing here?
“Sir?”
“What?” he yelled. “What?”
The clerks and the zakiruun were taken aback by the sudden change.
“We have counted the gold, sir.”
“How much?” yelled Milaniöm, nearly losing control.
An agonizing moment went by, during which he held his breath and then felt his heart explode when the clerk told him the number of gold coins in the glove, “There are 174.” He began sweating and vertigo seized him. He staggered toward the door and slammed into the wall.
“Slippery Slued,” he moaned. “Slippery Slued is back!”
“Magdala, love of my youth,
Your wind is soft like the gaze of a mother.
As from the palm of her hands, you fed us;
You gave us the grapes of joy, and the honey of tenderness.
You covered us with the stars.
A mantle of love to teach us of love.
With open hearts, with joyful deeds, with generosity.
I carry you in my heart, O beauty of my youth.
I remain forever your son.
Would to El that I may see your blessed fields,
Kiss the ground of my dreams that lulled me in the meadows,
In the tall grass of spring, like the arms of my mother,
Who rocked me to sleep.”
–Memoirs of Shalimar, the Poet.
“Commander Tanios, Master Habael is back.”
A short moment later, Tanios stepped out of his tent. He stretched and was relieved to see dawn break through the thick canopy. The sun had not yet risen, but a light pinkish hue breathed hope into the vanishing darkness of the night. Seeing the old man approach, he went to meet him.
“Well, dear friend, I am glad to see you. May I remind you that you ought to inform me before taking leave? We were concerned.”
“My apologies, Commander Tanios,” replied Habael humbly. “I needed to visit a friend and time did not permit for much preparation.”
“I hope your visit was pleasant,” replied Tanios. He scanned the surroundings half expecting the Malikuun, Lords of Light, to dispel the night and animate the trees with a thinking mind and a mouth to speak.
“It was, Commander Tanios, it was.”
Master Habael’s words brought him back to reality. “We have heard someone crying outside camp.”
“Where was the cry coming from?” asked Habael.
“From the bushes over there. We heard someone whimpering and calling for help.”
Habael smiled his usual, mysterious smile. “Unless the high priestess disagrees, I would suggest we look into this event further. It may delay us, but if someone needs help, we should not tarry.”
Bahiya welcomed the suggestion warmly. At first, her reaction surprised Tanios, but after further thought, he concluded that she must have looked forward to being distracted from her worries.
The Silent quickly found muddled footsteps around the bush.
“It is indeed human,” reported Corialynn, “a man with a heavy gait, pulling a small wagon.”
The trail was easy to follow. It led them deep within the valley among large trees that gave shadow to a grassy meadow, where the tracks suddenly disappeared.
“How could a man and a wagon vanish?” asked Alviad.
They combed the ground in ever-widening circles searching for footsteps but failed to find any.
“I don’t think we’re going about it the right way,” commented Allelia.
“Agreed,” added Alviad. “We’re missing something.”
Tanios smiled and waited. He cherished these moments when his Silent acted in accordance with their training.
“Suggestions?”
The Silent looked at Commander Tanios who chuckled and pointed at Corialynn. “She can mimic my voice so well, she could even fool me,” he said. The Silent laughed.
“Up,” pointed Allelia, smiling. “He went up.”
Giant trees reaching to the sky surrounded them, but Allelia pointed to one specific tree. Midway through its trunk, they could see a man-made scaffold. Their mysterious visitor must have climbed up instead of continuing ahead. Tanios questioningly turned toward Habael and drew closer to touch the thick trunk. He closed his eyes, listened intently, and looked at Bahiya. “What does the high priestess say?”
Bahiya fixed her gaze on the scaffold as though trying to pierce through its intricate lines. Tanios remembered, when, years ago, she had stood by his side on the shores of Bragafâr. She now had that same look on her face that once had pierced his heart; serious and beautiful. He waived the memory away with a slight irritation. All of that happened long ago, and he was now dealing with a high priestess of Baal. She no doubt had her share in the death of Ahiram. The commander closed his eyes to hide his anger.
“I do not sense any danger,” she said after a while. “Only deep sorrow and unspeakable sadness.”
“Exactly my thought,” said Habael in a murmur. “I believe it would be best if you, my dear Bahiya, Commander Tanios, and I were to climb this tree. You, my young friends, should wait for us here.”
Immediately, Allelia loaded a vanishing dart into her crossbow and released it toward the camp. The dart flew swiftly and slammed into a tree, producing a white flash. In response, three Silent joined them.
“Perimeter,” commanded Allelia. “This tree.”
Bahiya glanced around, and smiled. The Silent had vanished.
“There’s a ladder built into this tree,” whispered Tanios.
“Do not touch,” said Bahiya. “Curses may be protecting this place. Let me check first.”
The commander glanced at Habael who nodded. They took a few steps away to give Bahiya the space she needed.
Just then, some fifty miles south, seven hooded individuals walked north on the main road.
“I much preferred you as a dwarf. Those buttons were cute on you.”
Ahiram rolled his eyes. “No offensive offense Master Zurwott, but I am far more comfortably comfortable and comfortable in the most comforting way in my silently silent and silent most silently garbs.”
Orwutt grinned. “You’re dwarfish grammar is improving, my friend.”
“Perhaps,” grumbled Ahiram, “But, as we were taught in the Silent Corps, ‘My tailor is rich,’ see?”
“Huh?”
“Silly expression we learned in our language class,” explained Sondra. “Another one, ‘my master’s garden is smaller than his wife’s boat,’ and—”
“I have one,” added Sheheluth. “This one is funny, ‘The pants of my brother are wider than the table of my mother,’ which is—”
“This is nonsensically nonsensical and nonsensical beyond any sensibly assembled sentence,” protested Zurwott.
“‘And my tailor is rich,’” chorused the five Silent, sharing a chuckle.
“That’s the first sentence we learned in dwarfish,” explained Jedarc.
“But there are no rich tailors among dwarfs,” protested Orwutt. “Each clan tailors their clothing according to long-standing traditions.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who made this up,” said Jedarc with a yawn. “I wish I had a few bananas with me. I’m hungry.”
“What is a banana?” asked Hiyam.
“Oh no, not that again,” muttered Sondra. “It’s an imaginary fruit Tinantel made up to console himself whenever he’s hungry.”
“For the umpteenth time, Sondra, it’s not an imaginary fruit.”
“We just ate,” commented Banimelek.
“Catch,” said Ahiram throwing Jedarc an apple.
“Yum,” beamed Jedarc. “You wouldn’t have a piece—”
“Catch,” interrupted Ahiram as he tossed him a chunk of cheese.
“Double yum,” exclaimed Jedarc.
“Is he a mind reader?” whispered Orwutt to Sondra. “How did he know his friendly friend asked for cheese?”
“Tinantel’s eating pattern follows a long-standing tradition.”
“A sign of wise wisdom,” added Orwutt, who failed to see the irony in her statement. “A man who fills his belly with tradition will protect his tradition with his belly.”
“Faernor, what does that mean?” asked Sheheluth, who was walking beside Banimelek.
It had taken them four days to return to Taniir-The-Strong, three days longer than expected. A major avalanche had blocked the main passage linking the dwarfs’ quarters to Royal Road. At first, they tried to dig a tunnel through the rubble. After a full day, they gave up and went back to the dwarfs’ quarters, then continued farther south to the desert people’s settlement. A violent storm grounded them. Despite Ahiram’s desire to leave, they decided against venturing into the forest while the storm still raged. By midmorning of the third day, they reached the main plaza where the Games of the Mines had begun twenty-five days ago. They spent the rest of the day carefully planning their infiltration of the castle when Frey Leifa, the head servant, was returning from a visit to her folks and spotted them.
“Ahiram?” she said overjoyed. “Is that you?”
“Frey Leifa,” replied the Silent, beaming with joy. “I’m so happy to see you.” Without thinking, he hugged the older woman. She smiled.
“The commander left so quickly, we didn’t know what to do, then this giant of a man invaded the castle and his brother came. His name is Soloron. He is handsome and unmarried, I’ll have you know. He appointed himself as king, but I don’t think he wants to be a king. He hasn’t said it just yet, but I won’t be surprised if he abdicates shortly to Lord Orgond.”
“So everyone at the castle is safe?” asked Ahiram. “Even the slaves?”
“Yes, life is almost back to normal.
The Silent were relieved. “So, he is treating you well?”
“Oh, very well. I am certain he would love to chat with the Silent.”
“Are you sure, Leifa?” asked Sondra. “I thought he was our enemy.”
“Oh, gods no.” She lowered her voice. “He doesn’t like them gray owls, you know,” she said pointing with her chin to indicate the High Riders’ barracks in the south. “But harm us? Oh no, he loves Tanniin. Come, come, I bet you’re hungry and could benefit from a good breakfast.”
“A breakfasting breakfast and a breakfast for the breakfasters would be most appropriately appropriate and appropriate in the most appropriate of fashionable fashions.” Zurwott bowed.
“My brother is hungry,” translated Orwutt, bowing.
Leifa laughed with delight. “Master dwarfs, it is a pleasure to meet you here. Please come, there is breakfast aplenty for all.”
“One of us is from Baal,” pointed out Banimelek.
“This is Lady Hiyam,” replied Leifa, reproachful. “She is an athlete. Besides, if anyone asks, you could always say that you are bringing her to Commander Tanios and that would be that.”
“Which is the truth,” Sondra commented dubitatively.
“It’ll work,” added Jedarc. “We’re the Silent after all.”
“What happened to King Jamiir?” asked Ahiram.
“Soloron locked him in the star room, up in the Lone Tower. He’s not sure what to do with him, but hey, what do I know, I’m just a kitchen girl.”
Ahiram did not answer. Strange how one’s fortune can turn. One day you are a king and the next, you are less than a slave. He reflected on his heart’s desire. I never wanted freedom for freedom’s sake. I wanted to be free so I could return home. Home is what I want. Home is where I am free.
They were relieved to see that the castle was in good condition, and the servants were performing their duties as usual. The soldiers staffing the castle were Tanniinites and greeted them with a military salute.
“Those guys are properly trained,” commented Jedarc, impressed.
A captain escorted them to Royal Hall where Soloron sat. Banimelek thought he looked deeply bored, as if he had been flopped onto the throne. Every so often, the new king would take off his crown, inspect it carefully, and place it back on his head.
The Silent stood before him and bowed respectfully.
“Five Silent I see. Is this Hiyam, daughter of High Priestess Bahiya?”
“I am,” replied Hiyam.
“Is the high priestess well?”
“She is under the commander’s protection,” replied Sondra.
Soloron sighed in relief. “All praise to Tanniin. I was concerned that the chaos of these last days had indisposed the high priestess. No wonder my search party could not find her. Tanios knows how to hide when he wants to hide.” Again, he took the crown off, and inspect it carefully before placing it back on his head. “This does not fit me.”
“So you did not mean the high priestess harm?” asked Jedarc with surprising frankness.
“Harm? Why? I don’t want Baal’s soldiers at my doorsteps. I have no qualm with their priesthood. They can do whatever they want, but not in Tanniin.”
“We are under orders from the commander. We must bring Hiyam to Amsheet. Is this order agreeable to Your Highness?” asked Jedarc.
“Highness, Highness,” grumbled Soloron. He sighed. “Yes, that’s fine. I do want you to carry a message to Lord Orgond. Please let him know I would like to meet with him to discuss the future of the crown. The meeting can take place at his earliest convenience.”
“We will do so,” replied Sondra with a bow. “I am certain Lord Orgond will be relieved by your message. Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Would it be possible to visit our quarters?” asked Ahiram abruptly. “I would rather change back into Silent’s clothing.”
Soloron looked at him uncomprehending, then, realizing he was in dwarfish attire, nodded with approval. “Though you may wish to keep your dwarfish look,” he said. “In case you’re looking to wed a she-dwarf.”
A stunned silence answered Soloron, and he sighed deeply. “We need a jester here. I’m losing my mind, sitting on this throne. You may go now.” he grumbled under his breath.
Back in the Silent’s quarters, Ahiram stood with a satisfied smile. He had found not one, but two fresh uniforms and a new belt with all the darts he
needed. He even found a sturdy leather bag, which he now carried on his back. After six years, I have managed to lay my hands on a second set of Silent clothing. Now I can wash one set while wearing the other and stay clean. He smiled gleefully and rejoined his friends in the kitchen for a scrumptious lunch, courtesy of Frey Leifa. They ate quickly, for Jedarc wanted them to be on their way as soon as possible.
“Please tell Master Habael we are taking care of his garden. He shouldn’t worry one bit.”
Ahiram nodded. “Frey Leifa, thank you for everything.”
She handed him a bag of goodies. “For the road,” she added. “I know my Silent, you will be hungry soon.”
As they were about to leave the castle, Ahiram grabbed Sondra by the arm and pulled her aside. The others noticed him say something to her, then saw her throw her arms in the air, lash at him, and storm out in anger. The dwarfs went out after her, followed by Jedarc, Sheheluth, and Hiyam. Banimelek waited for Ahiram and they walked out together.
Soon they were gone. Frey Leifa stepped out the door and peeked into the sun. Will we see the Silent back at the castle, I wonder?
Presently, Banimelek and Ahiram were walking behind the rest of the group on the main road.
“What happened?” asked Banimelek.
“When?”
“When you spoke to Sondra as we were about to leave the castle. She stormed out, upset.”
“Oh, that. She called me stupid.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. She can be odd at times.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Well, I thought since Soloron is king and all, I mean he is the current king, isn’t he?” Ahiram looked at Banimelek for approval. His friend smiled. “Well, he is sitting on the throne and wearing a crown, so …”
“Let me guess,” said Banimelek gently. “You asked Sondra if you should ask Soloron to set you free. Didn’t you?”
Ahiram was shocked. “How did you know?”
“Seriously? That’s all you’ve talked about for the past six years.”
“It’s not the only thing I talked about,” protested his friend.
“Anyway,” continued Banimelek, “you asked Sondra if you should run back and ask Soloron to give you your freedom back, didn’t you?”
Wrath of the Urkuun (Epic of Ahiram Book 2) Page 32