by Suzanne Weyn
"Can you read this?" Vasim asked defiantly.
"Of course I can," Darian bluffed. Sheila shot him a shocked look. She knew he could read his own language, but she was fairly sure he couldn't read hers.
Darian took the book from Vasim. "See, it says here that this is a bird that flies and carries people in its belly and then spits them out when they arrive at their destination," he said, pointing to a picture of a jumbo jetliner.
Vasim looked to Sheila. "Is this true?"
''Well," Sheila said, ''in a way, I guess."
"And here is a picture of a million lightning bugs trapped in a glass which is used to light rooms," Darian continued, showing Vasim a photo of a lightbulb.
Vasim took the book back from Darian and studied it. "The artists in your world are very accurate," he said. "I see it is a world filled with magic. No wonder you have the look of a great wise one shining forth from your sea-dark eyes."
"Her eyes are none of your business," Darian snarled.
The Hickorite narrowed his own eyes and smirked at Darian as he rose to his feet. "Have you claimed this female as your own?"
Darian looked quickly at Sheila. "Yes," he said hesitantly.
"Is she your wife?" Vasim continued.
"No, but . . . she's spoken for."
"I think she might prefer a chieftain's son. Vasim poked Darian hard on the shoulder. Darian poked back.
Up until now Sheila had been enjoying Darian's jealousy and the thrill of being fought over, but this was going too far. "Stop!" she shouted. "No one claims me. I belong to myself.''
Both boys looked at her with stunned expressions. She felt suddenly awkward. "I want to see if Morning Star is all right," she said abruptly as an excuse to make her escape.
Walking over to her unicorn, who was facing the wide ocean, Sheila put her arm up over the animal's neck and looked at the rolling sea along with her. So Darian was jealous. After all the time she had spent worrying about him and Dian, it was good to have the shoe on the other foot.
The barge sailed on across the open sea. For most of the journey there was no land to be seen on any side. The hot sun and the rolling waters made Sheila feel dreamy. She looked over at Morning Star and saw the same slightly dazed, faraway look in the lovely beast's eyes.
Or was it something else? Was Morning Star weakening under Ankzar's spell? "You okay, girl?" Sheila asked, ruffling the mane between the unicorn’s ears. Morning Star whinnied and nuzzled Sheila on the shoulder, but the sharp sparkle in her usually alert eyes had definitely dimmed. "Hang in there, Morning Star," Sheila urged. "Hang in there, please."
The sun was low in the sky by the time they sighted land. Gone were the lush forests and the rocky shores. Ahead in the distance lay flat, rolling plains of golden sand dotted with an occasional low building or palm tree. "We do not want to be spotted," Vasim announced. "We will pull into a cove where we have friends."
The barge came close to a flat sandy embankment. Vasim lowered the sails as the warriors jumped overboard and walked the barge in through the gentle surf. Sheila and the others led their unicorns into the water and swam with them to shore. Vasirn swam ahead, then headed straight for a small shack on the beach. He walked in without knocking and came out minutes later accompanied by a short dark man with one gold earring. The two men disappeared around the back of the shack, then returned with an old but strong-looking horse.
"I will take you to Queelotoo, but there I must leave you," Vasim told them. "When you wish to return, find your way back to Nazir, here. He is a friend."
The man with the earring smiled at them and bowed.
In minutes they were off, riding toward Queelotoo. After an hour, when the sun had all but set, Vasim led them up a sandy dune. "There it is," he said. They were looking down on a most unusual city. Three immense stone pyramids were set in a triangular alignment with one another, connected by a high stone wall. Inside this triangular wall was Queelotoo.
"How does one enter this city unseen?" asked Darian skeptically.
"Not easily," Vasim told him with a laugh, "but there is a way.”
Darian and the women followed Vasim down the dune for another half hour until they reached a small village of mud huts and dirt roads. "This village is here mostly to serve travelers, but it has yet another use—which you will soon discover.
Again Vasim disappeared, this time into what seemed to be a store, leaving Sheila and the others standing outside. "I hope he knows what he's doing," grumbled Darian.
Illyria seemed about to say something, but she was distracted by Quiet Storm. The unicorn had stumbled slightly and seemed about to fall. But with some effort, he regained his stance.
Sheila instinctively looked to Morning Star and noticed the unicorn was standing awkwardly. "Come here, girl," she called gently. Morning Star walked several paces toward her, and Sheila immediately saw that she was limping. She knelt and examined the unicorn's leg and hoof. There was no wound or break, just a general weakness.
Vasim returned with a very old woman who wore her gray hair pulled back into a long braid. "You will have to leave your beasts here," he told them.
"That is just as well," Illyria answered. "They are growing very ill. Have you a shaded stall where they may await our return?"
Vasim translated Illyria's request to the old woman in a language Sheila had never heard. She nodded and beckoned for them to follow her around to the back of the store. There they found a stable filled with dried palm leaves and straw. They led the four unicorns into the cool shaded area and unsaddled them.
"Rest, Morning Star," Sheila whispered to her unicorn. "I'll be back soon to get you." Morning Star looked at her with dull eyes and knelt down on the straw.
When Sheila returned to the store, she found the others inside. Vasim was showing them a map of some kind. “…and then you follow this tunnel around here and up these stairs. When you emerge you will be in Queelotoo."
Sheila looked at Darian questioningly. "There are a series of tunnels leading away from this store," he explained. "They will take us into Queelotoo unseen.
"I'm afraid you will be staying here, my dear brother," Illyria told him. "Someone must tend these unicorns and make sure they are cared for." She shook several gold coins from a bag she had tied around her waist. "These should pay for all your needs and for those of the unicorns,"
"Why must I stay?" Darian protested.
Illyria glanced quickly at Vasim, who seemed to be taking great delight in the scene. “Because you know it is in the tradition of our people that the future leader must stay behind lest he be needlessly injured in battle,'' she said, barely concealing a sly smile. "And besides, Zanara-Ki knows Queelotoo, and Sheila knows Mardock and must see Dr. Reit.”
"What you say is true," Darian agreed sullenly "As future leader I owe it to our people to return to them safely."
''I will leave you here," said Vasim to Illyria. "May you have good luck."
"Many, many thanks," she replied. "Is there any way we can repay you?"
"There is one thing I want . . ." He turned and pointed at Sheila. "The book," he added, after a long and awkward moment. "I would like the book you showed me."
"Sure," Sheila said, heaving a sigh of relief as she pulled it out of her pack. "I hope you enjoy it."
''When you return to the land of the Hickorites, you must stop and explain these magical pictures to me,” he said. "I already long to see you again."
Sheila felt the hot burn of a blush rise to her cheeks. "Who knows," she said. "Maybe we will meet again, Vasim. Be careful on your way back."
"He'll be just fine," Darian cut in.
Vasim smiled and waved good-bye. The old woman left the room and came back with a large bowl of cool water. The three women warriors cooled themselves and washed the last of the dye from their faces. When they were done, the old woman pushed back a worn rug and opened a heavy metal trap door in the floor.
Illyria was the first to disappear down into the
hatch. Zanara-Ki went next. Sheila sat with her legs dangling down into the tunnel, waiting her turn to follow.
"Take care of yourself," Darian said, with surprising tenderness in his voice. Then he bent down and brushed her lips gently with a kiss.
Sheila gave him a quick smile, and then she jumped. No sooner did she hit the dirt floor several feet below than the door above her slammed shut. Sheila was immediately engulfed in total darkness.
11
Queelotoo
"How much longer?" asked Sheila, a note of uneasiness in her voice. Though she had fumbled in her pack and found her lighter, it was only small comfort against the blackness all around her. And then there was the terrible stifling heat of the tunnel's narrow passageways.
"I believe we are almost there," Illyria said, bending toward the lighter to study Vasim's crude map. Sure enough, they soon came to the steep steps that marked the end of the tunnel. Illyria climbed up first and, using all her strength, pushed open the metal hatch above her head. She peered out cautiously.
The hatch opened onto an empty side alley.
With a grunt Illyria pushed the hatch all the way up and climbed out. Zanara-Ki and Sheila followed quickly behind her. The main street which intersected the alley was crowded with people all heading in the same direction.
"It looks like there's a parade or something," said Sheila. "Let's go see.
"Not yet," Illyria cautioned, placing a strong hand on her shoulder, "We're sure to stand out in these clothes. We must find disguises."
"Luck is with us," said Zanara-Ki, rummaging through a pile of rubbish stacked against the building. "Look at all the cloth among this refuse."
Illyria and Sheila joined her and soon they had sorted out some stained and torn material. "We won't look like grand ladies, but do the best you can with it," said Illyria, draping a long piece of gauze over her head and letting it fall to her knees. She used her own thick brown cord belt to cinch it at the waist.
Sheila saw that some of the women in the street were wearing turbans that let their long hair spill out the middle. She fashioned herself a headpiece in the same style and then wrapped a piece of light blue patterned material around her waist as a long skirt. She ripped the neckline of her T-shirt and let it fall off her shoulders in the same style the women on the street were wearing.
Zanara-Ki had wrapped some fabric around her waist and knotted it at her hip to reveal one leg. "You will do as peasant women," she said, looking her companions over. 'But we need color for the eyes. All of the Queelotoons, men and women, wear color on their eyes."
Sheila dug into her pack and pulled out the zinc oxide. "Perfect," said Zanara-Ki, and the three of them applied the purple cream to their lids.
"One more thing," said Illyria, and she pulled a dazzling jewel of cobalt blue from the bag at her waist: the Gem of Speaking. "We would not get very far out there with no knowledge of the language," she said.
Illyria held out the stone in her palm, instructing Sheila to lay her hand over it as well. "Now, Zanara-Ki," she said, since you speak Quceelotoon, we need you to lay both your hands over ours and fill your head with the language of this land."
Zanara-Ki did as she was told, shutting her eyes in intense concentration. Sheila also closed her eyes and immediately felt a tingle run across her forehead. The blackness behind her lids changed to green and then to a deep blue, the very same color as the gem. Her eyes snapped open.
"Did it work?” Zanara-Ki asked.
"I don't know."
Zanara-Ki smiled. "Obviously it did. I asked you the question in Queelotoon and you understood me."
"Enough talk," Illyria said. "In any language! It is time to go." And stepping out into the main street, the three "peasants" were quickly swept up by the surging crowd.
"There he is!" they heard a woman cry our. Coming toward them, down the crowded street, was a procession of shirtless guards wearing ballooned pants, sashes across their chests, and broad sabers at their sides. Behind them were four slaves, each carrying one corner of a golden carriage that was open on all sides. Sheila could see a reclining figure silhouetted within the case, but the spun-gold cloth draped across the sides kept her from seeing the person in any detail.
"That's got to be Ankzar," Illyria deduced as she stood staring, jostled by the crowd.
Sheila broke out in a cold sweat as she sighted the next person in the procession: Mardock, waving joylessly to the crowd while being carried along on an ornate sultan's chair. His jet-black robes were in sharp contrast to the golds, greens, and reds of the people and buildings around him.
"If we follow this procession, it will lead us to the palace," Zanara-Ki said. "We are lucky to have come on this date. Twice a year Ankzar allows the people to adore him. He will even let a certain number of them into his palace for a celebration of his greatness. If we hurry, perhaps we can sneak into the palace with the crowd."
"These people are awfully excited," Sheila noticed. "They must really like this Ankzar guy.”
"They hate him," Zanara-Ki told her as they rushed along, trying to get to the front of the crowd, "but starving people do not turn up their noses at a free meal."
The crowd streamed down the street to a long square building along one of the city's walls. After Ankzar and Mardock had entered the court, the guards then allowed the crowd to rush through the golden rungs of the high front gates for about five minutes before they began to close them.
Sheila quickened her pace as she realized she was about to be shut out. Zanara-Ki, already on the other side, reached out and grasped her forearm. A man behind Sheila knocked her to her knees in his frenzy to get through the closing gate—but Zanara-Ki held tight. With remarkable strength she lifted Sheila and pulled her through the gate just before the guard gave it a final pull. The remaining crowd was locked outside.
The lucky ones who had made it through were herded into a large courtyard that had been set with the most sumptuous meal: succulent pigs roasted on spits. Dried fruits of every description overflowed huge cut-glass bowls. Large loaves of warm eggbreads filled the air with their buttery fragrance. An army of slaves poured wine from great golden pitchers. It was a feast far beyond Sheila's imagination.
"Let's find our way into the palace," said Illyria. But then, noticing the disappointed look on Sheila's face, she added, "All right, we will all eat quickly. It has been a long day."
Sheila piled her plate high with food and wolfed it down. She was ravenously hungry; but famished as she was, her appetite in no way compared to that of the people around her. They stuffed themselves as though they hadn't eaten in years. Sheila wondered at the cruelty of Ankzar. How could a man horde such riches while his people starved?
She was about to make her way back for a second serving when Sheila saw Illyria wave to her. She cracked her knuckles nervously. "Here we go," she muttered under her breath.
With a quick hand signal, Illyria summoned Sheila and Zanara-Ki over to a grouping of large wicker baskets. Servants dressed in white tunics were carrying the baskets into the palace.
Trying to look casual, they waited for a moment when the guard by the baskets would be distracted. It came quickly: a women was caught secreting food into a pouch under her robe. Apparently this was forbidden, and the guard turned to wrestle the pouch away from the emaciated woman. Without a word, each of the three warriors hopped into the last three remaining baskets.
Sheila found herself crammed inside a basket filled with soft silks. "What sort of material is this that's so heavy?" she heard one slave grumble as he lifted the basket. When he put it right down again, Sheila almost stopped breathing. Was he going to check inside?
"Stop complaining and get to work!" a harsh voice called out, and Sheila's whole body sagged with relief as the slave picked the basket back up.
Sheila was jostled along for a few minutes, and then the basket was plopped down again. This time she waited for the voices of the slaves to fade away, then lifted the basket l
id.
The three warriors found themselves in a wide open room with thick mats laid out on the floor.
"This is the female servants' quarters," said Zanara-Ki, climbing out of her basket.
Illyria wasted no time in pulling off her raggedy disguise and the tunic and armor she wore underneath it. She grabbed one of several long white strapless gowns that were hanging on nearby hooks. "This is what the servants wear?" she checked with Zanara-Ki as she stepped into the dress.
Zanara-Ki nodded. "They drape those gauze cloths over the dresses," she added, pointing to a row of white caftans hanging beside the dresses.
"Well, quickly, you two, find ones that fit and get into them," Illyria ordered. "Hide as much weaponry as you can under the caftans—a most fortunate fashion for our purposes.
Sheila looked at her pack. She didn't want to lose it, but there was no way she could hide it under the caftan without looking like a hunchback. Maybe if I spread the weight out, she thought. She pulled out her tape recorder and strapped it around her waist. There wasn’t really anything else she could strap on, so she crushed the pack as tightly as she could and tied the straps around her waist. So I look like a fat servant. Big deal.
"Now," said Illyria, "we must find Ankzar and force him to free Dr. Reit and break the unicorns' spell."
"What if he refuses?" asked Sheila.
Illyria tapped the hilt of the sword she wore under her caftan. "He won't refuse.''
The Unicorn Queen led the way out of the servants' quarters. "Perhaps we should go directly to Ankzar's bedchambers and wait, hidden, for him to retire," Zanara-Ki suggested. "That is our best chance to find him alone."
Illyria nodded and headed down an arched hallway covered with glittering jewel-specked tiles.
"Uh-oh," whispered Sheila. "Look who's coming."
Mardock was striding directly toward them, arms clasped behind his back, head bowed, deep in thought. "Avert your eyes and look humble," Zanara-Ki instructed in a low voice.
The wizard passed them without a second look. Then he turned back. "Girl!" he called.