Pool of Radiance (16 page)

This was splendid, more than Cadorna could have hoped for! He wanted to appear pleased, but he didn’t want these three to think that their obligation to the court was so easily fulfilled. He gazed down from the dais, his eyes gleaming with avarice. “You say it is so, but how do I know it is so?” Cadorna waved his hand at the three in an encompassing gesture. “Even assuming you have been to the island, how can I be sure it is safe to send our citizens there to settle that blackened rock?”

Tarl proceeded to tell the story of their encounters at the keep, with Ren and Shal occasionally adding details. They described the odd triangular medallion they found on the frog and the humanoids’ strange rantings about the Lord of the Ruins and “power to the pool.” They deleted mention only of Shal’s Staff of Power.

Cadorna could hardly contain his excitement. He had manipulated these pawns perfectly, gaining a foothold with the Lord of the Ruins by warning him of their mission and earning the trust of the three by alerting them to the likelihood of encountering orcs or hobgoblins. And they had even brought him new information about the Lord of the Ruins and the magical stones he was seeking! Perhaps, one day, these three might even be able to find such stones or the lair of the Lord of the Ruins for him…. But first things first. He still needed proof of their day’s work—perhaps a little something to add to his own coffers. “What you have told me is good news indeed, but how do I know these things are true?” Cadorna prodded.

“We bear artifacts, magical artifacts, from the armory and from the Tyrian Temple at Sokol Keep.” Tarl held out the scale. “This is a treasured holy artifact. I am sworn by the late Brother Martinez to donate it to the temple in Phlan.” Ren produced the dagger and Tarl the hammer they had found in the armory. “And these are the magical items. Even now you will notice a faint glow….”

Cadorna pulled back as Tarl moved the hammer toward him for his examination. “Yes … yes, I see.” Cadorna hated blunt objects. He had no interest in the hammer, but the dagger would be his to use or trade, a small token from the council for sensing the exact nature of the dangers at Sokol Keep and sending exactly the right party to tame the island. “You may keep the hammer for your efforts,” he pronounced beneficently. “The dagger you will place on deposit with the court attendant before you leave. And, of course, the scale you will relay to your temple.”

What a shame, thought Cadorna, that the solid silver balance cannot also be confiscated, but with the cleric’s testimony a matter of council record, he dare not risk it. Cadorna eyed the throne intensely before going on. “And the island—has the shadow lifted?”

“Yes,” answered Shal excitedly. “As we left, the afternoon sun was shining gloriously on the cliffs. The whole bay looks different—”

“You needn’t babble on,” Cadorna said sternly. “I’m satisfied that you’ve fulfilled the goals of this mission. In fact, you all deserve further reward, but I will not know the verdict of the full council with regard to such rewards as you may have coming for at least another day. In the meantime, I’d like you to think about the possibility of completing a small task for me one day soon. I happen to believe you are the perfect party for the assignment.”

Ren bristled a little at what he read as a couched threat. The way Cadorna leaned over the dais, clasping and unclasping his hands and making fleeting eye contact with each of them, left Ren with no doubt that Cadorna could and would make life very difficult for the trio if they did not at least attempt to complete Cadorna’s “small task.”

“We’ll be in town,” said Ren matter-of-factly. “You can leave a message for us at the Laughing Goblin Inn.”

“Count on it,” Cadorna said crisply, sensing Ren’s resistance. “You are free to go now—with the understanding that you are on call to me and this council until further notice.”

On the side of the city opposite Civilized Phlan, the farthest corner of the uncivilized part, a great dragon was listening to the whimpering excuses of a liver-bellied kobold, two gutless orcs, and a recreant hobgoblin. The beast met their vacant, yellow-eyed stares with its gleaming eyes, and they saw their master, the Lord of the Ruins, for the first time.

“A party of three defeated an army of fifty?” The dragon clawed the ground and spewed a jet of flame from its nostrils. “You let them tame Sokol Keep? Idiots! Clods! Humans will flood into Phlan by the shipload and gain new footholds in my portion of the city! Incompetent slugs! Die as your companions did!” The dragon exhaled, and lightning flashed and crackled about them. Before they could finish their screams, the four were encompassed in flames. In moments, their bodies had melted and drained into the golden, crescent-shaped pool nearby.

Where the incinerated remains of the humanoids met the bright water of the pool, it bubbled and boiled, blazing with the intensity of polished gold in direct sunlight. The dragon turned and lumbered slowly into the pool. In the physical portion of its brain, which reflected raw instinct and reaction, the only part still controlled by the original persona of the dragon, the water registered as hot… very hot. The dragon flinched and tried to back out of the pool. It took the power of a trenchant will to force the physical body to scald itself in exchange for the pulsing energy the water would bestow. The will was that of Tyranthraxus, the Great Possessor.

It was the will of Tyranthraxus that commanded the dragon to submerge its entire body in the pool. When it did, power—undiluted power—flowed from the pool to the dragon, and the creature commanded a hundred more humanoid slaves into it presence.

Kobolds, orcs, gnolls, and other strange creatures of the ruins flocked to the heart of Valjevo Castle, the lair of the Lord of the Ruins. Their eyes glazed over with yellow, they never saw the creature that controlled them.

“Hear me, slaves! You will spread the word that there is a price on the heads of those three, more treasure than any of you can imagine … You will also procure for me two more ioun stones. When you do, I will complete the circle of power, and I will rule all of Phlan … and much more.”

“I didn’t realize you were still hurting so from that blow to your stomach,” Shal said, touching Ren gently on the arm as they left the council room. “Here…” She took his arm and pulled it up over her shoulder, then slipped her own arm around his waist. “Let me help you.”

Ren glanced over his shoulder at Tarl and grinned in delight. “Thanks. That’s better. I’m sure by the time you walk me all the way to my room, I’ll be feeling much better.” He pulled Shal a little closer and spread his hand on her firm waist.

“As Tyr is my witness, don’t you think you’re a little big to be leaning on the lady for support?” asked Tarl.

“I’ll be fine,” said Shal, not waiting for Ren to answer. “All this size and strength has to be good for something besides climbing ropes and looking homely. I mean, you guys wouldn’t even let me row the boat.”

Ren glanced over his shoulder at Tarl and winked again. “She’ll be fine. I won’t lean too hard.”

Tarl glowered and bared his teeth in a half-mocking, half-serious warning. When they reached the inn, Sot treated them to a huge feast. Later, Tarl made a point of accompanying Ren and Shal to Ren’s room in the loft.

Ren moved swiftly from the door to the window, checking both, as was his habit, to see that they weren’t followed and then securing them to make sure no one could enter. He unbuckled the fastenings on his leather breastplate and then tugged gingerly to remove the armor. Shal was about to reach over and help, but Tarl stepped between them and carefully removed the breastplate. “I can make a poultice for you. You won’t be smelling too good while you wear it, but I think you’ll find it soothing.”

“And if I know you,” said Ren, “it’ll be about as pleasant-smelling as those orcs at Sokol Keep.”

Shal was reminded of a question she’d been meaning to ask. “Do you two know what stones those creatures kept talking about?”

“Ioun stones,” Tarl filled in the name.

“They’re incredibly valuable, but I don’t think most people understand why,” Ren said as he sat on the mattress in the center of the room. “Tempest was killed over two ioun stones.”

Shal sat down on the floor, and Tarl sat beside her.

Ren removed Right and Left from his boots. “These are ioun stones,” he said, flipping the hilts open so they could plainly see the blue-black stone inside each handle. “If you hadn’t started blasting everything in sight with your staff, Shal, I was going to pull one of these out and offer it to those goons. They probably would’ve killed us anyhow, but I might have been able to distract them long enough so you could get away.”

“What’s so special about—” Shal dropped her question and gazed in wonderment as the two dark stones floated from the hilts of the daggers and began to circle Ren’s head, glowing a deep, iridescent midnight blue.

“Wow!” Shal and Tarl breathed in unison.

“What—what else can they do?” asked Shal.

“I don’t know very much, really. I think it takes strong magic to take full advantage of their powers. For me, the ioun stones make the blades return at my command, and I never miss my mark. I guess they must add a measure of talent or strength to whoever’s in control of them.” Ren held the knives up by the blades and said “Return.” The two stones immediately dropped into the open handles, and Ren flipped the hilts shut. “Tempest died over those two little rocks, and today the three of us almost died for them. I don’t know what the head of the Assassins’ Guild wanted them for, or what the Lord of the Ruins wants them for, but I think we’ll all be better off if they don’t get them.”

“You were right to not give them up without a fight,” Tarl said. “Who can say what evil forces would do with such stones? I vow, as Tyr is my witness, to aid you to the best of my abilities should you be threatened again.”

“And I, too,” said Shal. “as Selune is my witness. But I have a mission of my own, and I’m anxious to get on with it.”

“To avenge the death of your teacher?” Tarl asked.

Shal nodded. “And after a good night’s rest, that is precisely what I plan to do.”

“You know you can count on our help,” said Tarl, speaking for Ren as well as himself.

Shal looked at Tarl and then at Ren. Before Tarl had even said anything, she knew they would stand behind her. At every encounter on Thorn Island, she had been aware that their first thought was always to protect her first, even though with her new strength she was probably as strong as Tarl, if not Ren. Since adolescence, Shal had taken pride in her looks above all else. Now her appearance was the antithesis of what she had always believed attractive, yet two thoughtful, considerate, handsome men were quite obviously vying for her attention. They admired her magic abilities and praised her newfound fighting skills, they sought her opinion despite her inexperience in countless other areas, and they certainly did not seem to be put off by her muscular body. “Thank you,” she said simply, reaching her hands out to hold each of theirs. “I’ve… I’ve never had such friends.”

Shal related what she knew of the location of Denlor’s tower and the murder of her master. She described the wretched helplessness she had felt watching his murder and being unable to communicate through the crystal. Tarl squeezed one of Shal’s hands and Ren squeezed the other as each thought of the death he had witnessed and been unable to prevent.

Using water from Ren’s canteen and a combination of herbs and tar from his pouches, Tarl made the poultice he had promised for Ren. It was effective, but offensively smelly as promised, and he and Shal made their way quickly from the room once it was applied, but not before the three of them had agreed to meet at noon, after a good night’s rest, for the trip to Denlor’s tower.

After seeing Shal to her room, Tarl returned to the temple. Before he could get to Anton’s bedside, the brothers from the temple had flocked around him. Rumors of a sunlit Thorn Island had already reached the temple, and they were anxious to hear of Tarl’s experiences there. Since all the brothers had arrived in Phlan only since the rebuilding of the new temple began, no one had known that the fortress contained a Tyrian temple. They were momentarily speechless when Tarl presented the sacred scale, and they actually clapped when he told them of the laying to rest of the tormented souls of their brothers at Sokol Keep. Tarl warmed at the praise; he had never felt so strong in his faith as he had when he faced the skeletons and convinced the spectral Brother Martinez that he could finally be at rest. Several of the brothers made plans to journey to the island the next day to pray for the peace of their brothers and to be sure that any artifacts that remained were put to good use.

Tarl finally took his leave as the others talked on into the night. He found Anton, writhing and calling out, awash in torment. Tarl no longer could feel any joy for having recovered the silver balance. As he stood there watching his friend suffer, he renewed his commitment to retrieve the Hammer of Tyr and restore it to its rightful place at the altar in the temple of Tyr.

He fought back the pain that surged through his own body as he laid his hands on Anton’s shoulders. He held on until he dropped to the floor, overcome by his brother’s agony, and there he slept.

Shal was surprised to find a package on her bed. It was a soft bundle, bound in white cotton by black string. She realized from the stamp on the cotton that the package was from the seamstress who had made her leathers. Curious, she slipped off the string and unfolded the cotton. Inside was a delicate silk nightgown. Shal laughed with unabashed delight. She was about to hold the garment up to herself to check the fit, but she stopped before touching it. She was filthy with blood, mud, dirt, and other stains she didn’t even want to think about.

Quickly she pulled off the filthy black leathers, first the tunic and then the belt and leggings. Sot had left a sponge and a tub of water waiting for her, and the water was still warm. She left the leathers in a heap beside the bed, climbed into the tub, and scrubbed herself clean. After patting herself dry with a towel from the room’s small bureau, she reached for the sensuous mulberry-colored garment and slipped it over her head. She turned apprehensively to face the long mirror on the door. The nightgown was as feminine a garment as any she had ever owned, carefully tailored to accentuate the curves of her ample form. Shal removed the clasp from her hair and shook her auburn tresses loose over her shoulders. Her gaze never left the mirror as she combed her long hair. The woman returning her stare in the mirror was at least an acquaintance now, no longer a complete stranger. She could use a whole new set of adjectives to describe herself now: powerful rather than petite, firm rather than willowy, buxom rather than diminutive—but she was every bit as much a woman. In fact, she realized with a shock, she was attractive in a way she had not previously appreciated.