One bundle was noticeably longer than the rest. Swallowing hard, Gundabyr inched toward its head and pulled the seaweed cloth apart.
Armantaro.
Now he was truly afraid. He hadn’t seen Princess Vixa in days. Perhaps she was dead as well. Aside from the few sick and injured humans in the House of Arms, Gundabyr might be the only drylander left in Urione.
“Things don’t look good for our young dwarf,” he murmured.
Reverently, he covered Armantaro’s face. The Qualinesti colonel had been a good fellow, a brave fighter, and a wise elf. Gundabyr said a little prayer to Reorx, asking him to put in a good word with Astra, highest god of the Qualinesti. When he was done, he said a second prayer for himself. He would need plenty of divine aid if he was going to get out of this predicament alive.
He crawled on, using his powerful arms to drag himself forward. He reached the line of columns that encircled the plaza. The clutter of goods did not extend into the colonnade, so Gundabyr stood. He could hear the clash and clatter as the soldiers combed the stockpile behind him. Now was the time to make his move.
Skulking along the shadowed wall, Gundabyr went as quietly as his bulky physique allowed. There were numerous doorways to cross, and he never knew, when he dashed from one side to the other, if someone in the passage would see him and raise the alarm. After six such heart-pounding crossings, he paused, flattening himself against the palace wall. There were voices ahead.
Coryphene and two soldiers had emerged from a corridor and were standing under the portico. “Join the search,” Coryphene told the soldiers. “Find the dwarf, immediately.”
“And the other prisoner?” asked one of the Quoowahb.
The Protector glanced back the way they’d come. “She is secure. Go.”
She! That could only be Vixa Ambrodel. She must still be alive! Gundabyr waited until Coryphene walked away before slipping into the corridor. There were several arched openings off this passage, and Gundabyr, with bated breath, crossed them all.
At the rear of the corridor he found a door whose surface was marred by a simple locking mechanism. The bolt had not been thrown home, but it was the first lock the dwarf had seen in Urione, and it made him curious. He put his ear against the cold granite. No sound came from within. He would have to chance it. He eased open the door.
Vixa was sitting in a heavy chair, her back to the door. She wore a green Dargonesti robe, but her short golden hair was unmistakable. Gundabyr slipped into the room.
“Release me, Coryphene!” Vixa cried, hearing the door close. “Is this how you repay those who help you?”
“Shh, lady, it’s me. Gundabyr Ironbender.”
“Gundabyr! Get me out of this!”
He came around the front of the chair and saw a bizarre sight. Vixa was not shackled or bound in any way. She was sitting bolt upright in the chair, facing the wall. Poised in midair, its barbed tip a hairbreadth from her chest, was a Dargonesti spear. Midway down the horizontal shaft, a gold ring glittered.
“What’s this?”
“Coryphene’s little joke, long since grown stale! He used that ring of his to set up this spell. If I move, the spear will impale me.”
“What if I remove the spear?”
“No! Don’t touch it! The only thing you can do is take off the ring. Slide it down the shaft to the butt, but don’t let it touch the spear. Once the ring’s off, the spell will be broken.”
Gundabyr grimaced. “Move the ring without letting it touch the spear? That’s a tall order, Princess. No wonder Coryphene felt no need to lock the door.”
“You can do it, Gundabyr. Your hands are skillful, and your nerve is like the iron you forge.”
“It’s not my skill or nerve I’m worried about. It’s these thick fingers of mine.”
“Do it, Gundabyr! You must! I’ve got us a way out of here, a way to get home!”
The dwarf nodded, rubbing his hands along the tops of his trousers. He held out his right hand, flexing his stubby fingers as they neared the floating ring. An inch away, he stopped, pulling his hand back.
“I can’t, lady! I’m too clumsy, I tell you! You’ll die if I try it.”
“We’ll both die if you don’t.”
Gundabyr sat back on his haunches to think. There had to be a way to move the ring without letting it touch the spear shaft. If only he had a feather, he could slip it between the floating ring and the spear. But he had no feather, no tools, nothing. He sighed.
His gust of breath made the floating ring quiver. Was that it?
He explained his idea to Vixa. Sweating profusely, the princess agreed he should try it. Gundabyr moved around behind her. Leaning forward over her shoulder, he blew against the ring. It quivered, but didn’t move. He blew harder. Coryphene’s ring skittered two inches toward the spear butt.
“Hurrah!” Vixa rejoiced. “You can do it!”
“It’s going to take a lot of wind.”
During Gundabyr’s many pauses for breath, Vixa told him about her explorations as a dolphin, the chilkit tunnel she’d found, and the discovery she’d made there. By which time, Gundabyr had moved the ring only half the distance necessary.
“So he’s alive.” The dwarf panted with exertion, his cheeks red. “Glad to hear it. Anything that thwarts Coryphene makes me happy.”
A few more minutes of huffing and puffing and the ring was only scant inches from the end of the spear shaft. Gundabyr took a short break and outlined what had been happening in the city since the battle. When he got to the part about finding their fellow prisoners dead and prepared for disposal at sea, Vixa blanched.
“And Armantaro?” she whispered. The dwarf nodded curtly, his eyes fixed on the ring. He started blowing again, faster and harder, looking down to avoid the tears glistening in Vixa’s eyes. “He was ill. Did he die of his cough or was it murder?”
“The others weren’t sick, lady, and they’re dead.”
“Coryphene gave his word! He promised he would free us!”
“He obviously changed his mind.”
Hatred welled up inside Vixa. Armantaro was dead. Like Harmanutis, Vanthanoris, Captain Esquelamar, and for all she knew, everyone she’d left on Evenstar. All gone. Murdered by Coryphene and his insane queen.
“Hold still, lady!” Gundabyr hissed. Vixa forced herself to relax, pushing away her grief. It would serve no purpose now. Almost inaudibly, she said, “I will kill them both.”
The icy coldness of her tone made Gundabyr stare at her. Her face, considered “humanlike” back in Qualinost because of her quarter-human ancestry, had worn thin under the hardships she’d endured. Poor food and privation had sharpened her features and bled most of the color from her skin. The dwarf could see the rage burning in her eyes.
“Princess, I’m about done,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“I am.”
He filled his cheeks, blew smartly. The ring flew off, ricocheting against the wall. No sooner had it left the shaft than the spear dropped harmlessly to the floor. Vixa was up in an instant, the weapon in her hands.
“Thank you, my friend! Let’s go.”
He restrained her with one hand. “Escape, Princess, yes? Revenge can’t be enjoyed when you’re dead.”
Before she could reply, they heard voices outside. Vixa sat back in the chair. Gundabyr scurried to the far corner and hid behind a stone column.
Coryphene entered, leaving a pair of guards in the corridor. “Hello, Princess,” he called out. “Still here, I see.” From his position he couldn’t tell that Vixa, rather than his spell, was holding the spear in place.
“When are you going to keep your word and release me?”
There was the slightest of pauses. “Soon,” he replied evenly. “Right now my warriors are looking for the dwarf Gundabyr. I thought he might have found his way in here.”
“No such fortune. Is Armantaro nearby? I’d like to speak to him.”
“That’s impossible. Her Divine Majesty has forbidden it.”
Vixa resisted a powerful urge to hurl the spear at him. She must remember that Gundabyr, too, would be endangered if the guards were to rush in.
“Where’s your honor, Coryphene? Don’t the Quoowahb believe in keeping their word?”
“You would be well advised not to provoke me. You’re alive now only-” He stopped abruptly.
“Yes? Go on, Coryphene. What truth were you about to let slip?”
He made a fist. “You’re alive because I have defied my divine queen! She has ordered your death, Vixa Ambrodel, but I have secreted you here instead!”
“How kind of you, but why?”
“Because the Protector of Urione does possess honor.”
Vixa’s arm, holding the spear by its head, was beginning to ache. “So, what’s to become of me?”
“After we take Silvanost and Uriona is crowned queen of all the elven nations, I will set you free. Perhaps you would make a good viceroy, to rule in Qualinost in Her Divine Majesty’s name.”
Astonishment momentarily left the princess bereft of speech. Coryphene must be as crazy as his queen, if he thought she would become the tool of a conqueror. How little he knew her!
“I believe that, in time, you will come to accept Her Divinity’s power,” the Protector went on. “My queen will reward me in the future for not killing you now.”
Vixa heard Coryphene’s footfalls as he moved from the doorway, coming farther into the room. If he drew too near, he would see his spell had been thwarted. Sweat trickled down her forehead.
“My lord!” A soldier had appeared in the doorway. “The watch reports a disturbance at the House of Arms.”
“What kind of disturbance?”
“A dispute-a riot between the surviving drylanders and the sea brothers.”
Smothering an oath, Coryphene hurried from the room. Gundabyr emerged from his hiding place, and Vixa, with a relieved gasp, let the spear drop.
“Damn him!” she fumed, rubbing her aching wrist. “Did you hear that? I would make a good viceroy to rule in Qualinost, he said. What kind of weak-minded simpleton does he take me for?”
“Lady, we must go,” insisted the dwarf.
Once outside under the colonnade, Vixa whispered, “We must hurry to the temple of Zura. Naxos needs water from the fountain there to heal his wound.”
They had to take the central ramp, at least part of the way. Vixa dropped down on her stomach and started crawling into the plaza. The war supplies hid them both from the remaining guards until they reached the entrance to the spiral ramp. Gundabyr rolled into the opening. Vixa ducked after him. The ramp was clear.
Noises drifted up to them from the lower levels. Creeping down the ramp, Vixa and Gundabyr speculated on what might be happening below.
“A riot? That doesn’t make sense,” Gundabyr mused. “The only drylanders left in the House of Arms are too sick and weak even to walk, much less riot.”
“Well, in any event, the timing was perfect.” Perhaps a little too perfect, Vixa added silently.
The thick scent of incense told them they were nearing the temple level. Farther on, and they could see robed priests and priestesses coming and going. It seemed impossible for Vixa and the dwarf to slip by unseen. Gundabyr, a practical soul, reached out from their hidden vantage point and grabbed an unsuspecting Dargonesti acolyte. A good solid blow to the back of his head, and the acolyte was in dreamland. Now they had a robe to wear.
“You’re too short to pass for a Dargonesti,” Vixa reminded him.
“Well, so are you, lady.”
Vixa chewed her lip for a moment, then a smile broke out on her face. She leaned over and whispered in Gundabyr’s ear. Soon he was grinning, too.
Moments later, a tall acolyte draped in a hooded gray robe joined the lines of worshipers in the courtyard outside Urione’s temple complex. The new acolyte surreptitiously studied the inscriptions at the entrance to the various sanctuaries.
“Can you read them?” said a low, strained voice from the vicinity of the acolyte’s waist.
“Shh, legs can’t talk. I’ll let you know.”
Sitting astride Gundabyr’s shoulders, Vixa tapped him with her left heel to steer him down a narrow lane. The usual Dargonesti script eluded Vixa’s understanding, but here in the temple precinct the priests still used Old Elvish, just as was written in Silvanost more than a millennium ago. It was awkward and archaic, but Vixa, always an avid reader, had at least a general comprehension. She puzzled her way past structures sacred to gods named El-ai, the Fisher, and Ke-en. She decided these were the Dargonesti equivalents of E’li, the Blue Phoenix, and Quen. Then they entered a smaller, circular courtyard, faced by three lesser temples. The names on these were Matheri, Estarin, and Zura.
“What’s the matter?” hissed Gundabyr in response to her soft exclamation.
“These Dargonesti are strange elves,” she replied. “I just figured out that these three temples are sacred to Mantis of the Rose, Astra, and Zeboim.” This last name amazed the dwarf. In Thorbardin this goddess was called Bhezomiax, but there were no shrines dedicated to her. What use had a mountain race for a sea goddess? Daughter of Takhisis, the queen of evil, Zeboim was known to be impetuous, temperamental, and very, very dangerous.
“You mean they worship evil gods alongside the good?” Gundabyr asked.
“So it seems. Now I understand Naxos’s nervousness about using the water of Zura.”
Gundabyr smothered a groan. “Lady, you’re no lightweight, you know. Do we go on?”
Vixa nodded curtly. “We have to. I don’t know what else to do.”
They walked up to the entrance of the temple of Zura. The building was a truncated pyramid made of alternating bands of jade and blood coral. Striking but gaudy, was Vixa’s opinion. Monstrous carvings decorated the outer walls, depicting all the destructive forces of the sea: waterspouts, tidal waves, and the like.
A pair of priests came into view. Each wore on a thong around his neck a jade medallion decorated with Zeboim’s-or rather Zura’s-sign, a sea turtle. Vixa flinched when they drew near enough for her to see their faces. Unlike the usual blue tone of the Dargonesti elves, the priests of Zura had deathly gray complexions. Their eyes were strangely dull and colorless-much like the flat, gray shade of the ocean on a cloudy day. They walked with small, shuffling steps, their arms hanging straight and unmoving by their sides. No notice was taken of the tall, unknown acolyte who fell in behind them.
The temple’s interior was damp and fetid. Smears of phosphorescent slime on the walls provided what little light there was. Ahead, the two priests ducked their heads periodically. At first Vixa thought they were observing some sort of ritual, then she felt a cold, fleeting contact on her forehead. Looking up, she noticed faint tendrils of smoke floating in the air, writhing like the tentacles of some phantom octopus. Vixa felt no pain at the contact, but a horrid smell of decay permeated her nostrils.
The priests disappeared down a side passage. Vixa and Gundabyr forged ahead. She watched for other tendrils and dodged them when they appeared. At last they reached the center of the pyramid. The main chamber mimicked the form of the outer structure, being a flat-topped pyramid itself. In the center, instead of an altar, there was a fountain. Water dribbled from the mouth of a statue of Zura, which was carved from a massive block of white onyx. Depicted in Quoowahb form, Zura wore an expression of pure malevolence. Her eyes were set with blue-green jade.
“I need a jar,” Vixa said. “Turn around, Gundabyr.” The dwarf swung her in a full circle. “Whoa! Not so fast! Again, more slowly.”
Deep niches were cut into the walls. Piled in the hollows were white clay amphorae. Vixa pulled one out. It was empty. Smaller than a Qualinesti wine jug, it would hold perhaps a quart of liquid. She hoped that was sufficient for Naxos’s purpose. A fitted stone stopper was set in the mouth with the same kind of sticky kelp paste they’d used to seal the gnomefire pots. It had a long, braided seaweed loop for a handle.
Gundaby
r took her back to the fountain. Since no one was around, he hiked up the hem of the long robe and took a breath of air, as well as a look around. When he saw the statue, his mouth dropped in amazement. “I hope we don’t meet her while we’re here,” he said, aghast at the dreadful image.
“Shh! Bend over so I can fill the jug.”
He leaned forward, resting his hands on the rim of the pool. As Vixa held the amphora in the water, Gundabyr was able to see what was lying in the bottom of the pool. Skulls. A great many of them.
“Uh, Princess, I’m not sure this is a good idea. Look down here.”
Vixa glanced down, almost dropping the jug. “By Astra! Where did those come from?”
“Sacrifices, maybe? Or all that’s left of people who drank the water?”
She shuddered. “We’ve got to trust Naxos,” she said, finishing her task. “He said to bring him the water, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
She plugged the amphora, smeared the brown jelly around the stopper, then handed the jug to Gundabyr. He put its braided loop over his neck, and they rearranged the robe over him and his burden.
They garnered a few sidelong glances as they crossed the square and left the temple precinct, but no one challenged them. By the ramp, they discarded the robe, and Vixa recovered her hidden spear. Gundabyr and Vixa descended a few levels, then got off at a residential floor evidently reserved for Urione’s more affluent citizens. The houses were larger and fewer, and the level had the advantage of being nearly empty just now.
“There are side stairs and ramps all over,” Vixa said, rushing ahead. “As long as we keep going down, we’ll find our way to the sea.”
Puffing a little, the slender amphora cradled in his arms, the dwarf commented, “Not to be argumentative, but the sea’s everywhere outside, ain’t it?”
Vixa pulled up short, her face reddening. “You’re right. I would’ve dragged us through the whole city, just so we could leave the same way we came in!”
“We have another problem, lady.”
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