The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven

by Brian S. Pratt

  “No,” he replies. “But let’s just get this over with.”

  The young man moves toward the door and James steps aside to let him pass. “Be back as soon as I can,” he tells them.

  “Good luck,” offers Shorty.

  As he leaves the room and closes the door behind him, James turns to follow the young man.

  “Just keep your eyes down and follow me,” he says.

  “What if someone tries to speak to me or stop me?” he asks.

  “One person isn’t likely to accost or bother another person’s slave without their approval beforehand,” the slave explains. “That would be a severe breach of etiquette. In fact, depending on whose slave it is, there could be more serious repercussions.”

  Descending the stairs, James hears the noise from the common room. In his loincloth, he feels very exposed. If it wasn’t for the mixture Brother Willim put on him to darken his complexion, he’s sure his skin would be beet red in embarrassment. Stepping off the bottom step, he follows the slave as he skirts the edge of the common room and leaves through the back door. He was sure that everyone in there was staring at him, but having kept his eyes lowered in proper slave fashion, he couldn’t tell.

  Out in the street, he soon realizes just how tender his feet are. Walking barefoot as the other slaves are, he tries to ignore the rocks and other hard items that seem to find their way under his feet with every step.

  “How far is this place we’re going to?” he asks.

  “Not very far,” he replies. “Just down a couple more streets.”

  As he continues to follow the young man, he glances to the people on the street. Almost unbelievably, not one of them is even giving him a second look. He could be a bug crawling on the ground for all they care. Growing in confidence that he’s not going to be found out, he begins to relax. He even grows accustomed, to a point, in wearing nothing but a loincloth.

  If this had been the middle part of the day, the sun would have burnt him to a crisp. But seeing as how dusk isn’t very far away, it kind of feels good to have this much skin exposed.

  After the slave leads him down one of the side streets, he begins to notice that they are moving into the poorer section of town. The streets are not nearly as kept up as they had been where they came from. Also, the people on the street begin to get a more bedraggled appearance.

  Up ahead and to their right lies a narrow alley. Barely wide enough for two men to walk side by side, it’s wedged in between what looks to be a tannery and a rendering shop where they separate fat from animal remains. The smell coming from both places is appalling. To his disgust, the slave turns and leads him to that narrow alley. Having no choice, he follows.

  “Stay close,” the young man says as he enters the alley.

  Holding his breath against the stench of the two businesses he’s passing between, James steps into the opening. Several times during the course of moving deeper into the alley, his bare feet squish into something soft and feeling very nasty. In the faint light which illuminates the alley, he’s not sure if it’s human excrement he’s stepping in or something else equally offensive. He tries to control his rising gorge as he hurries to catch up with the young man.

  The alley grows lighter as they approach the other end. James actually tries to hurry the young man along a bit in order to get out into what he hopes is fresher air. As they reach the end and step from the alley, he takes a deep breath of air that is only slightly better than what he had to endure in the narrow passage. He glances down at his feet but he’s unable to determine what exactly he stepped in.

  They’ve come out into an area completely blocked in by the backs of buildings which are only one or two stories tall. Maybe forty feet by thirty, it looks like what may have been a plaza at one time before some of the abutting buildings were built over it. Oddly enough, no windows are present in any of the buildings encompassing this area. Only the alley from which they passed through and a single door in one of the walls are the only apparent ways out of here. It’s to the door that the young man is leading him. Other than themselves, this place is deserted.

  “This way,” the slave says to him.

  Stepping in behind, James crosses the vacant area. The slave pauses at the door until James catches up with him then says, “On the other side of this door, say nothing. Even should someone come to you and begin talking, say nothing. Understand?”

  “Why?” James asks.

  “Just do it,” he replies. When he gets a nod from James, he opens the door.

  James follows him through and is surprised to find a tall stack of broken pieces of crates, boxes and old furniture no more than two feet before the door. In fact, the stack is higher and wider than the doorway. They are forced to practically squeeze out from the doorway due to the lack of room between the door and the stack. Then the young man closes the door and James is again surprised to discover that the door melds into the wall perfectly, concealing the fact that the door is even there. Whatever this place is, this entrance probably isn’t known by too many people.

  Without a word, the slave moves to step out from behind the stack and enters a courtyard bustling with activity. Slaves under the watchful eye of men are hauling crates and other items from a warehouse and stacking them on four wagons. The young man moves over to where two small boxes are stacked not too far from where they entered from. He picks one up and motions for James to do the same. Then he makes a circuitous route around the courtyard and finally brings James to the wagons being loaded.

  Placing his box within one of the wagons, he nods for James to do the same. Then they turn about and enter the warehouse out of which the rest of the slaves are hauling boxes. Once inside the warehouse, they encounter a man who is directing the slaves in picking up boxes and crates to be placed on the wagons.

  No sooner do they enter the warehouse than the man in charge directs them to pick up a rather large one that takes two. Not hesitating, the young man does as directed and James joins him in lifting the crate. He glances questioningly to the young man and only receives a shake of his head in response.

  Crash!

  One of the slaves further back in the warehouse has dropped his box and is now lying on the ground holding his leg. The way he’s holding his leg and crying out, James thinks that it may be broken.

  Then from out of nowhere two slaves come and immediately take the crate from them and continue hauling it out to the waiting wagons. Startled by their sudden appearance, James doesn’t immediately realize the young man has turned and is walking quickly toward a stack of boxes sitting at the rear of the warehouse. Seeing him moving away from him, James quickly moves to follow. He casts a quick glance to the man in charge of the slaves and sees how his attention is now fully on the slave lying with the broken leg. From the set of the man’s face, he feels sorry for the fate of the slave.

  Half a minute later, they squeeze through a gap between the stacks of boxes. Sidestepping, James passes through and comes to a small cleared space between the stacks of boxes and the rear wall of the warehouse.

  Moving to a set of three boxes, two set side by side and the third on top of the other two, the young man says, “Give me a hand.”

  James comes forward and the young man has him grip the stack of three boxes in two specific spots. Then together, they lift the edge of the boxes up. The edge comes up to reveal that the three boxes are secured to the top of a trapdoor. Once the trapdoor is raised sufficiently, the young man has James pass through first. There’s a drop of three feet and then a series of steps leading down into darkness.

  James hops down onto the steps and holds the trapdoor open while the young man hops down beside him. Together they lower the trapdoor and are plunged into darkness. James has an urge to create an orb, but resists it. The last thing he wants to do is to let whoever is down here know what he’s capable of. Keeping that information secret has proved beneficial on several different occasions.

  Once the sound of the young man moving dow
n the steps comes to him, he slowly follows. Step by step, he descends ten steps before coming to a narrow passage. Keeping a hand on one wall as a guide, he walks forward, all the while allowing the sound of the young man’s footsteps to lead him.

  “Where…?” he begins when the young man’s voice says cuts him off with “Keep quiet!” So keeping quiet, he continues to follow him. At one point, the passage they are in makes a sharp turn to the right. James didn’t realize it quickly enough and wound up stubbing his toe on the wall in front of him.

  “Shhh!” the young man whispers when James began cursing his throbbing toe.

  After that, he kept one hand out in front of him as well as the one to the side. A good thing he did for it saved his toes another stubbing when the passage abruptly curved back to the left. A faint light can now be seen coming from further down this new passage. It steadily grows brighter as they move toward it until James recognizes that the light is making its way through the cracks around a door.

  He quickens his pace when he sees the young man is already at the doorway. Light floods the passage as the door is opened and he has to squint for a few seconds until his eyes get readjusted to the light. Moving out of the passage, James enters what appears to be an ordinary cellar beneath some building.

  Two other men are in the room, both dressed as slaves. One of them is the same slave as Scar and Potbelly had nabbed keeping an eye on them in the hallway outside their room.

  “Go on in,” the slave says to the young man.

  Without a word, the young man steps toward the opening on the far side of the cellar. An archway separates the room they are in with the one lying on the far side. Many candles are lit within the next room and as James passes through the archway, he sees a middle aged man lying on a series of cushions upon a rug on the floor.

  “I brought him,” the young man says to the other.

  “Leave us,” the man on the cushions says.

  Bowing to him, the young man backs out through the archway.

  Indicating a cushion sitting on the floor near him, the man says, “Please be seated.”

  “Thank you,” replies James. Moving to the cushion, he settles down on top of it.

  “It’s not often I have guests here,” the man tells him. Lifting up a plate bearing slightly squishy sliced fruit that’s turning brown, he offers it to James.

  Really not wanting any of the old fruit, yet not wishing to offend his host, he takes one. Placing it in his mouth, he chews it and can taste the slight rancidity of spoiled fruit. “Thank you,” he says as he tries to swallow without spewing it back up again.

  The man smiles and nods. “A pleasure to meet one such as you,” he says.

  James arcs an eye questioningly at him. “Oh, I know who you are,” he explains. “James I believe your name is. And a mage of some power.”

  James eyes him suspiciously and remains silent.

  “Oh you needn’t try to hide the fact,” he says. “But who you are doesn’t really matter now does it? You wanted some information I believe?”

  “Who are you?” James asks.

  “Ah, that is a question many would like to know,” he replies. “Suffice it to say that I am the Slavemaster.”

  “Slavemaster?” asks James.

  “More of a title than a profession really,” he says.

  “I see,” says James.

  Without expanding any further on who he is, the Slavemaster says, “I understand you are planning on entering the temple here in Zixtyn.”

  “That’s right,” he says. James is more at ease now. Seeing as how the man knows him and has yet to either dispatch him or turn him in, he doesn’t feel there is any immediate threat.

  “Why?” the Slavemaster asks. “You’ll have to pardon my curiosity, but you are the first person I’ve ever met who actually wanted to go into one. Other than Dmon-Li’s priesthood that is.”

  James gazes at the Slavemaster and gauges just how much to tell him. “Can you help us gain entry?” he asks.

  “Possibly,” he replies. “You see, I’m the only one that I know of who was ever a slave within the temple and escaped. But that was some time ago, when I was a younger man.”

  “The one here in Zixtyn?” James asks hopefully.

  The Slavemaster shrugs, obviously unwilling to give him that much information about himself. “So why do you wish to gain entry into the temple here in Zixtyn? I assure you, what you tell me will not find its way out of here.”

  Deciding to trust to fate, he says, “A friend has been taken to Ith-Zirul. We know there’s a way that the temples, or at least some of them, are connected through magical transportation devices.”

  The Slavemaster shakes his head, “Friend, what you plan is nothing short of folly.”

  “Be that as it may, that is what we plan to do,” he insists. “Can you help us?”

  “Even should you gain the temple and reach the transportation device, you wouldn’t be able to use it,” he asserts.

  “Then you know of it?” asks James hopefully.

  “Yes,” he says. “I know of it.”

  “Can you tell me how it works?” he asks.

  “You mean to tell me that you planned to break into the temple and didn’t even know how it worked?” he asks incredulously.

  “I have an idea,” replies James defensively.

  “You need more than that if you expect to get to Ith-Zirul,” the Slavemaster tells him. “They won’t work for just anyone, you need a key.”

  “I have one of those already,” explains James.

  “Oh?” he asks. “How would you have gained such an item?”

  James then gives him a very brief rundown of finding the medallion in the temple outside of Kern. “I know it activates the dais,” he states. “I’m just not sure how to make it take me to where I want it to.”

  “Fascinating,” the Slavemaster says after several seconds of digesting what James had told him. “As to how to make it work, I don’t know that part of it.” When James gets a disappointed look, he raises his hand and says, “That’s not to say what I do know won’t help.”

  “Such as?” prompts James.

  “You see, each of these keys is set to take you to two different places on their own,” he explains. “I’m sure there’s a way in which to have them take you to specific temples, but I have never been privy to that information.”

  “Now, if you are in the home temple of the key, which in this case would be the temple near Kern where you found it, then the teleportation dais will take you automatically to Ith-Zirul. And if you are at Ith-Zirul it will return you to the key’s home temple.”

  “But what if you are at another temple?” he asks.

  “I believe it will take you automatically to Ith-Zirul,” he says. “And then from there would return you to the key’s home temple.”

  James remains silent after the Slavemaster finishes speaking. He remembers the time under the sand at Baerustin when during their fight, he and Jiron had stumbled upon the teleportation dais there and ended up at another place. That other place was cold and had strange little creatures with claws sharper than razors. He recalls the voice in his head that said, ‘You have come, mage.’ They must have been in the High Temple! Only they didn’t realize it at the time. When he and Jiron had fled the place and returned to the dais, it had taken them to the temple near Kern. It all makes sense now.

  “Now all there is to do is for us to reach the dais within the temple here in Zixtyn,” James says.

  The Slavemaster nods. “That won’t be as easy as you think,” he says. “For one thing, the dais is in a secret room in the lowest level of the temple. None but those in the inner circle are allowed there. It’s unlikely you would reach it before being discovered.”

  “Could you give me some idea the best way to get to it?” James asks. “Despite the risks we must make the attempt.”

  “Yes,” he says. “I can have a diagram made for you that would show the quickest route to the room
you have to reach.”

  “That would be great,” James says.

  “You might wish to make the attempt two nights from now however,” the Slavemaster says.

  James looks at him curiously. “Why?”

  “In two nights is the dark of the moon,” he explains. “Every temple performs special rites to Dmon-Li when the moon is black. It’s considered holy to them.”

  “Killian’s shroud blinds the giant’s eye,” he murmurs.

  The Slavemaster hears him and nods. “Yes that’s what some call that time of the month.” When he sees that James is lost in thought, he adds, “The priests will all be in attendance in the sanctum before the altar. However that’s not to say the halls of the temple will be empty. They have over a score of temple guards that will be roaming the grounds, even within the temple itself. You’ll have to somehow get through them without alerting the rest of the temple to your presence. I’ve heard stories of your prowess, but I doubt even you would prevail against a temple’s worth of priests all working in conjunction to kill you.”

  “Probably not,” agrees James.

  Just then, the young man enters through the archway and whispers something in the Slavemaster’s ear. Nodding the Slavemaster says something to the young man who then leaves the room. “Seems your friends have followed you,” he says.

  “Did they?” James asks innocently.

  The Slavemaster isn’t fooled. “Don’t worry,” he says. “They’ve been taken care of.”

  “What does that mean?” asks James.

  “They won’t be bothering us here,” replies the Slavemaster.

  “What did you do to them?” demands James.

  “Oh, nothing harmful I assure you,” he says.

  James meets his gaze for a moment and then gets to his feet. “I should be going now,” he says.

  “As you will,” says the Slavemaster. “I’ll have someone drop by sometime tomorrow with a diagram I’ll draw up to help you reach the teleportation dais.”

  “Thank you,” he says. Now worried about what may have happened to his friends, James wants nothing more than to get out of there.