A shallow basin rested on the floor before her, warmed by the fitful flame of a tiny brazier. Her head was bent to the basin as she peered into its depths. As Riverwind watched, the queen of Hest dropped blue powder across the liquid in the basin. It hissed loudly, and coils of vapor poured over the sides of the bowl. The pale blue vapor was the source of the strange incense.
Karn cleared his throat. “My queen, I bring you tidings of-”
“I know,” Li El said softly, without looking up. “I know all.”
Karn paused, taken aback, then continued, “The elder giant escaped before I could stop him. Someone helped him with a chain or a ladder.”
'The girl helped him,” Li El said in a flat, emotionless voice. Her hand disappeared into her robe and came out with a lumpy piece of red crystal. This she carefully dropped into the basin. “The same digger girl you caught in the tunnel,” she said.
“But-but how, Highness? The digger was taken away for questioning-”
“By my brother.” Karn looked at Riverwind rather helplessly. “Do you not see, stupid Karn?” The soldier flinched, but Li El went on relentlessly, “My brother is the one who has been casting the spells, making passages to the surface, and helping those diggers who flee Vartoom!”
Blood suffused Karn's sharp features. “Traitor! I knew it!”
“You did not,” she said, and her voice was barely audible. “Even I did not.”
“Your Highness,” Karn said quickly, “give the word and Vvelz will die today!”
“Vvelz has gone beyond the reach of your sword.” Li El gently blew the accumulated mist away from the surface of the liquid. A red glow emanated from the basin. The sorceress-queen was silent for a long time. Karn fidgeted, then cleared his throat.
“Speak,” said Li El.
“What shall I do with this giant?” he asked.
Li El lifted her face to them. Both the Hestite warrior and the Que-Shu plainsman recoiled. The queen's dark eyes had turned solidly red, and tears the color of blood trickled from their corners. Thin tracks of red inched down her smooth cheeks.
“Long have I striven to rule Hest firmly, to make it rich and great. I deposed the last decadent son of Hest and made myself queen in order to save the diggers from the tyrant's heavy hand. And what gratitude do I get but desertion, treachery, and sabotage?” The flow of blood-tears increased. Riverwind felt a coldness grip his heart. Li El's voice was icy and calm. Somehow he knew that she did not weep from sadness, but from deep and violent rage.
She stood and walked toward the transfixed elf and man. The tears trickled down onto her golden robe.
“What do you say, giant called Riverwind? Shall I be merciful to those who would bring the kingdom to ruin? To my own flesh and blood who has betrayed me?” She turned to face Karn but continued to address Riverwind. “Or shall they bleed until their transgressions are washed away. Until all treachery is gone. What do you say, giant?”
Riverwind couldn't say anything. A tightness had coiled itself around his throat. Li El's anger filled the room like a vile perfume, rooting him to the floor and rendering him powerless to utter a sound. Karn seemed to be similarly stifled. Over the queen's shoulder Riverwind could see that the basin she'd been performing her spell in was boiling. Large bubbles burst in the liquid, spattering more blood-colored drops on the floor.
“How dare they plot against me!” Li El said, her voice rising. “I, who make the fruit ripen and the light burn in the cavern. My people need never know hunger or darkness, and all I require is obedience and hard work. But even these small things they cannot give me. So I shall scourge them, the entire Blue Sky cult, root and branch.” She looked at Karn once more. The warrior was trembling slightly, but his face was resolute.
“You are too dull a tool for this job,” Li El said to Karn. “Loyal and brave, but far too dull to catch that pack of jackals my brother serves.” She turned to Riverwind. The malevolent aura the queen exuded pierced his heart and soul. He felt a tremor start in his hands and, with great effort, he clenched them into fists. His training as a Que-Shu warrior helped him to keep his face stoic as he looked down at the queen's blood-streaked face.
“Ah, giant, you are a fighter indeed. With the proper arms and motivation, you could wipe out my enemies practically on your own.”
Karn's calm expression had changed to one of shock. His lips worked but no sound came out. Oblivious to the soldier's distress, Riverwind fought his own inner battle and managed to voice a single word. “No,” he whispered.
Li El smiled slightly. “No? Do not be hasty, my fine giant. I have not yet told you what my terms will be. You may reconsider.” His eyes told her plainly what his tongue could not say. “You still think not? I see I shall have to persuade you.”
Riverwind wanted to run, or fight, do anything to break this dreadful numbing hold Li El had on him. Karn was in no condition to stop him, but the plainsman could scarcely get his legs to move. He slowly snuffled his feet around, and made a convulsive effort to take a step. Li El didn't even hurry. She followed him with patronizing languor, like some horrible bloody wraith pursuing a guilt-ridden man.
Riverwind stumbled and pitched forward. He rolled over and tried to get up. Li El loomed over him.
“Why struggle so, my friend? In the end, all will be the same,” she said soothingly. Li El pressed her fingers to her cheeks, staining the tips red with tears. She bent slowly and reached for Riverwind's face. Just as her blood-stained fingers lightly touched his cheeks, Riverwind screamed.
“Goldmoon!”
Karn's face was a picture of his inner torment. His arms and legs twitched with his efforts to move. When his queen touched the giant barbarian, both vanished in a soundless burst of white light. The magical lethargy that had held him paralyzed ended just as suddenly. Karn leaped to the spot where they had been.
“No!” he shouted, drawing his sword. “I was to be your chosen one. I, Karn! You can't take that outlander instead of me!” Karn cut the air furiously with his blade, hurting nothing. “Me! It is me! By blood and test, I am the one!”
He turned on the queen's magic basin. The liquid within was now clear and as smooth as glass. In his fury, Karn stormed over and kicked the basin. Hardly had the iron toe of his sandal touched the brass rim of the dish when the basin dissolved into a wisp of white vapor.
Karn cursed and screamed and stamped his feet in impotent rage.
The silent Hestites carried Catchflea a long way. He couldn't tell how far, but it was some time before they set him on his feet again. They'd gone a distance on level ground, then up a steep incline. It was ridiculous to the old man, being carried when he certainly could walk.
He lost the fear he had felt when the elves first grabbed him. Catchflea was astute enough to realize that his best chance to stay whole and healthy was to not resist. After going to all the risk of breaking him out of the High Spires, they couldn't harm him-could they? Di An wouldn't lead him into a trap-would she?
The elves lowered him to the ground, and the heavy mesh cover was whisked away. It was cool and dark wherever they'd brought him. Catchflea rubbed his eyes and sat up.
He was in some sort of old building. Gracefully carved columns spiraled up into the darkness. Some were cracked, others fallen. The floor consisted of worn squares of white stone, thickly covered with dust. A stirring in the recesses behind Catchflea warned him that he wasn't alone. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he saw that the room was full of Hestites, all looking at him.
Catchflea stood up. Whispers flitted around the columns like fireflies on a summer night. He heard light footsteps. Di An appeared. That cheered him; here, at least, was a familiar face.
“What's going on?” he asked her. “What is this place?”
“Not much of a giant,” a deep voice said, ringing hollowly.
“Who's that?” Catchflea quickly scanned the sea of faces.
“The other one is much taller,” Di An said.
Catchflea
turned to her once more. “Riverwind. Where is he?”
“He never jumped,” she replied faintly. She shifted her feet nervously, looking to the shadows behind her.
“Then Li El has him,” said the bass voice.
Catchflea started toward Di An. “You must help him! Karn will have his head!” he exclaimed. He reached out to the elf girl. “Can't we go back for him?”
“Ro Karn is the least of your friend's worries,” boomed the voice. “No, we cannot save him.”
“Who are you!”
Di An took Catchflea's hand and led him into the shadows. Hundreds of small elven feet scuffed in the darkness, following them. The old plainsman nervously watched over his shoulders as the nearly invisible crowd crept along behind him.
Ahead was an open space between close-set ranks of columns. There, over twenty blue globes had been set. Their strange light threw weird shadows on the thing Di An was taking him to see.
It was a thick section of stone blocks, standing free of walls or columns. The surface facing Catchflea was carved in deep relief with the face of an elf. The eyes were nearly squinted shut, the mouth an enormous open hole, black and empty. The entire relief was nearly as tall as Catchflea. In the eerie light, the old man couldn't tell if the expression on the stone face was joyous, outraged, or agonized.
“You are not much of a giant,” boomed the stone face.
“That is a label your people gave us. Among my people, I am counted a small man, yes,” Catchflea said. He wasn't terribly impressed with this idol, whatever it was. He well knew some mortal Hestite was behind it.
“Then the human may have value “ said another voice, higher and more cultured. The old man recognized this second voice as Vvelz's.
Catchflea decided to be bold. He said, “I'm pleased you think so, brother of Li El.” The steady whispering of the Hes-tites behind him ceased. The stone mouth was silent.
A flame erupted near a pair of columns. It illuminated the figure of Vvelz, who approached Catchflea and Di An. In the palm of his right hand a small flame danced. He carried no torch; the fire sprang directly from his hand.
“Mors is right,” Vvelz said. “You cannot help Riverwind. Better to stay with us and join our cause.”
“But what is your cause?”
“We are the Blue Sky People,” said the deep voice, which Vvelz had called Mors. “It is our sacred purpose to leave these dark caverns and dwell again under sun and sky, to live as free people, subject to no tyrants. We will cast off our chains and rise into the light, and no one will force us back into the ground.”
“Very admirable, yes?” Catchflea said dryly. “But who are you?”
“Yes, come out,” Vvelz said. He held his burning palm up high and clapped his other hand into the flame. Small spurts of fire flew from his fingers to all parts of the room, where they ignited stands of torches. These strange devices resembled young trees, skillfully wrought in iron. At the tips of their metal branches, a small blue flame appeared. As more and more were lit, their soft hissing filled the air.
The room was vast, and a large crowd of diggers lined the walls. Far off on Catchflea's left was an arched doorway and a set of broken steps leading out and down.
Catchflea heard a tapping, like metal on stone. A slim golden rod appeared from behind the stone face. It groped around, tapping against the wall behind the face and on the floor. An elf appeared, holding the end of the rod. Vvelz gave Catchflea a nod. The old man stepped forward.
Up close, he saw the Blue Sky leader was typically short in stature, but broad of shoulder and well-muscled. The most arresting thing about this Hestite were his eyes. Both were sealed behind layers of white scar tissue. Now Catchflea understood the tapping-a questing rod: the Blue Sky leader was blind.
“You stare at my eyes,” the elf said harshly. “They are a gift from Her Highness. When I was expelled from Vartoom, she had my eyes put out as a warning to other would-be heretics.”
“Who are you?” Catchflea asked quietly.
“My name is Mors, once Ro Mors, captain of the Host. You are the one An Di calls Catchflea?”
“An Di?” asked Catchflea, confused.
“I forget,” said Mors. “Being a barbarian, you don't know the nuances of our tongue.” He held out an arm, and Di An hurried to him. She nestled against his side. “Di An, An Di; it is a token of affection to call her so.”
Catchflea smiled at the girl. “Thank you for helping us,” he said.
She looked downcast. “Riverwind did not escape.”
Catchflea touched a gnarled, dirty hand to her cheek. “He doesn't submit easily. We will see him again.”
The old plainsman saw that more and more Hestites had emerged and filled the empty floor space. He was amazed; there had to be at least six or seven hundred elves huddled in the ruins. He asked Vvelz who they were.
“All the diggers who have run away,” the sorcerer explained. “They threw down their picks and plows and joined the Blue Sky People. They come to us because they are tired and hungry, and because they can't bear Li El's tyrannical yoke any longer. Someday soon Mors will lead them out of the caverns into the light.”
“So many!” Catchflea marveled. “Why don't you just depart? Surely Li El can't stop such a crowd.”
Di An led Mors to where the old man and the sorcerer were talking. “She can,” Mors said. His voice was deep and rough. “Running from her is not the answer. We must take the fight to Vartoom itself, seize the tyrant and lead all the people of Hest to the sky at once!”
Some of the diggers set up a cheer when they heard that. Mors scowled fiercely at them. “Be quiet, you fools!”
“Li El can't hear them,” Vvelz said with a sly, reassuring grin.
“Why not?” asked Catchflea.
“Long ago, this was a temple to one of the gods, now forgotten,” Vvelz said. “In ages past, the people of Vartoom came here to worship. The priests would inhale fumes from sacred incense and utter prophecies through the image of the god's face. Now, they wouldn't dare come near this place.”
“No one worships here now?”
“Even the god's name has been lost.”
“If there are gods, it is they who have forgotten Hest,” Mors said bitterly. “We do not need them. We shall take destiny into our own hands.”
“The temple is known to be a haunted place,” Vvelz continued. “In the reign of Great Hest's third son, Drev the Mad, the priests were massacred and the sacred hearth extinguished by the king's order. It is said the dying priests cursed the line of Hest and that their ghosts walk the temple, seeking vengeance.”
Catchflea's eyes were wide. “Do they?”
Vvelz looked left and right. “I have heard things-seen glimmers in the deeper sanctuaries.” He shrugged.
Once the Blue Sky People had adjusted to Catchflea's presence, they went about their routine business as if he weren't there. Food was passed around, ragged copper mesh clothing was patched, and teams of elves distributed items stolen from the surface. It was both amusing and touching to Catchflea to see the Hestites tugging on old leather shoes and felt hats as if they were silk and satin, and eating with worn wooden spoons and plates as though they were finest porcelain.
With Di An as his guide, Mors went to the stump of a broken column and sat down. Bread was brought to him, and a wooden cup, carved from a single piece of oak, was placed in his hand. Catchflea was given the same plain victuals, but his cup was Hestite tin.
“Master Mors,” he said, chewing the tasteless, dry bread, “what convinced you to lead this band up from the caverns? After all, it was by going underground that the Hestites managed to survive.”
Mors rumbled, “It was the willfulness of Hestantafalas that condemned us to live like vermin in the dark. Had he obeyed his sovereign and kept peace, none of this suffering would have come to pass.”
“You were not a digger, yes? How did you come to have such sympathy for them?”
“Let me tell him,” Vvelz inter
jected. Mors took a drink of mineral water and grunted his agreement.
“I shall have to go back quite a ways,” Vvelz said. He cleared his throat. “When the Great Hest and his chief magician, Vedvedsica, died, their children naturally inherited their fathers' places. The first son of Hest became king and the children of Vedvedsica his magic counsel. Before long there was rivalry between the royal house and the sorcerers. To augment themselves, each faction recruited talented ones from the common people. Those who served the royal family formed the Hall of Arms, a warriors' guild, and those who followed the Vedvedsicans were known as the Hall of Light. A system was established whereby children were tested at a very early age to determine if they were fit for either house. Those who were fit for neither, as you know, worked as diggers. A balance was reached, and for centuries the people of Hest flourished.
“Then, in the reign of Great Hest's second son, Jaen the Builder, things began to go wrong. Crops failed repeatedly, and the diggers went hungry. Several of the mines collapsed, killing many. Most strangely, fewer and fewer children were born. Many that were born were barren, and did not grow to adulthood.” Catchflea looked over at Di An. The elf girl sat at Mors's feet, her knees drawn up to her chin. She stared unblinkingly ahead, and her gaze did not waver when Vvelz spoke of the barren children.
“The Hall of Light blamed the warriors' greed for the failures,” Vvelz continued. “Too much time was spent digging for iron and gold, and not enough care was paid to growing crops, they said. The Hall of Arms blamed the sorcerers. They claimed the magicians weren't providing enough light in the cavern, making the crops sickly and thin.”
“Who was right?” asked Catchflea.
“Both,” Mors said suddenly. When he offered nothing more, Vvelz went on.
“Jaen died in a fit of apoplexy, and his younger brother, Drev, became king. Drev spoke darkly of magical plots against his brother's life. When he was sure of the warriors' loyalty, he tried to crush the Hall of Light. The temples were closed and priests were killed. Many of the elder sorcerers were imprisoned and executed, including Vedvedsica's daughter Ri Om. I was but an apprentice then, and my sister a journeyman.”
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