Darkvision (22 page)

Kiril muttered, “Blood, I’m sure you would.”

Essam met them at the bottom of the stairs.

“How is your stout friend? In Mas’ud’s able hands he must be doing better, yes?”

“Much better,” Kiril assured him. No need to discuss curses in polite company, she thought.

“How joyous!” her host enthused. “Now come, I’ve reserved a place of honor for you by the fire. It is always cold down here in Al Qahera, despite the desert above, and you’ll be glad to sit close.”

Kiril just nodded. She drew most of the eyes in the plaza as Essam and Fadheela led her through the throng. Her neck and cheeks warmed. She did not enjoy being the center of attention.

They made their way to several stools near the fire, as Essam promised. She dropped onto her stool immediately, then saw that everyone else remained standing. She yearned for a pull from her flask. With steely determination, she kept her hands at her sides, but the flush of embarrassment blossomed visibly across her checks.

The Qaherans bowed their heads in a moment of silence. Once concluded, the stillness was shattered by laughter, loud cheers, a cacophony of instruments, and a few songs. Various spirited discussions picked up where they’d left off before the hush. Most everyone sat down at the tables, Kiril was relieved to see.

And so the evening progressed. Portions of burned meat, burned vegetables, and burned fungus were pulled off the spits and sent circulating around the tables. “Burned” was apparently the preferred style of cooking in Al Qahera. Between courses came musical interludes, stories, and acts of skill that included a knife juggler and a puppeteer. Large jugs of water were sent around, cold and fresh, apparently just pulled up from the central well. To Kiril’s jaded throat, the water went down like the finest Sildeyuir vintage. It wasn’t long before she found herself listening happily to the music, hanging on the words of the storytellers, and laughing uproariously at several extemporaneous acts put on by the desert dwellers.

Essam turned to her and said loudly, “Tell us a story, Kiril!” She stood up, and with uncharacteristic openness, began to relate to the elves of Al Qahera the story of her most recent trip with her employer, Thormud Horn.

Kiril spoke in generalities, without specifying what worried the geomancer so much that he had initiated a trip into the desert. Kiril wasn’t even completely clear on what they were chasing. She glossed over certain details, such as Prince Monolith joining them. She didn’t want to explain that an earth elemental lord was camped out in front of the dervish community.

When she reached the point in her travelogue where Thormud determined that the true nexus of their quest lay in the Raurin desert, her listeners’ interest intensified.

Essam cleared his throat and interrupted Kiril. “Forgive me, but please allow me to ask—what is the nature of this evil that lies out in our desert?”

Kiril shrugged. “I don’t know for certain. Thormud called it a ‘splinter’ that infected the earth. It has something to do with the purple crystal—every threat we’ve faced has borne a purple crystal.”

Exclamations broke out among her audience.

“What is it? What do you know?” demanded Kiril. Essam calmed the Qaherans’ outburst and told her, “Perhaps we know something of the thing you seek in the deep desert. It is new, and it is dangerous. We call it the Storm Spike.”

The vengeance taker, wizard, and Datharathi fugitive disembarked at Huorm.

Eined scanned the docks for agents hired by her family, but saw nothing suspicious. To hide her identity, she tied her blue sash around her head like a great scarf.

“We’d best keep an eye out, anyway,” Eined cautioned, her voice uncertain.

“Datharathi agents aren’t as ubiquitous as you’d feared,” suggested Ususi.

“Perhaps,” allowed Eined.

Iahn led them into the city. They located a horse breeder willing to rent a secondhand travel coach. It was a crude, dirty version of the custom coach the wizard had left behind in Vaelan, but Ususi supposed it would serve.

As the sun reached its zenith, the coach pulled out of Huorm’s north gate. A little-used dirt road led north, toward rolling foothills crowned by the Dustwalls. A broader road led east and west. They turned west, directly toward the lone spire of Adama’s Tooth, easily visible among the lower foothills as a lone peak, strangely tall and slender.

Ususi drove, using her magically summoned steeds to pull the coach. Iahn sat on the bench at her side. Eined rode inside the carriage, hidden from casual observers. No need to tempt Datharathi sympathizers or sycophants with glimpses of a lone family member traveling without her normal retinue.

The wizard drove at a brisk pace, but not so swiftly as to draw attention. Outside the city, carriages were rare. Foot traffic ruled the road, though most folk moved to the side rather than face down an oncoming horse and wagon. After traveling a quarter of the afternoon, Eined called from a side window, “There! Take that road!”

The main road, heading west, veered to the north. Eined pointed to the south, to a narrow, slightly overgrown trail. Eined’s head poked fully out of the carriage window as she said, “That leads directly to Adama’s Tooth. It used to be the route for low-grade ores to be transported out of the mines below the peak, before Shaddon moved in permanently and established an air link.”

“What kind of traffic are we likely to see on it?” Iahn asked.

“Hardly any. Shaddon’s got Adama’s Tooth sewn up pretty tight. Housing and meals are provided internally, and outside supplies are brought in from Vaelan via airship.”

Iahn nodded, satisfied. Ususi turned the carriage down the narrow track. The vengeance taker noted a few stares from nearby travelers, but nothing beyond typical curiosity.

The new trail, despite being narrow, was in excellent condition, and they practically raced down it. The thin spire of Adama’s Tooth grew to become the dominant feature of the surrounding landscape. Sunlight failed as they drove into the shadow of the slender mountain.

“Why is it called Adama’s Tooth?” asked Iahn, leaning over to direct his question into the open carriage window. “Was Adama some ancient hero of your people?”

“No. The Adama is what passes for religion around here.”

“Truly?”

Instead of replying, Eined opened the side door of the still moving carriage, climbed the side ladder, and seated herself behind Iahn and Ususi.

“Now that we’re so close to Adama’s Tooth, it’s probably better if I can see what’s coming. There—we want to turn right here.” The woman pointed toward an even narrower path off the trail they’d been following. “It looks steep now, and it’ll get steeper. I hope your summoned steed is up to it, or we’ll be walking before we get to the top.”

Ususi nodded and turned the carriage down the path. As promised, the angle pulled all the riders back in their seats.

“This will get us to a side door halfway up the peak. Unless Shaddon changed the locks, I can get us in without attracting any notice.”

Their speed dropped to about half their earlier clip—the summoned beast struggled with the grade, but persevered.

Eined touched Iahn’s shoulder. “Sorry—you were asking about the Adama? Adama is not a person, but a belief system and a code of conduct. To the average Durpari, the Adama is the one true force guiding their lives. It encompasses all the deities of what some call the lesser beliefs.” She shook her head and smiled sardonically.

“You do not follow the path of the Adama,” Iahn concluded.

“I did, once. But if you are part of a merchant family long enough, you either learn to lie to yourself—a mind sickness I’d prefer to avoid—or recognize the Adama as just another in a string of half truths the merchant elites feed the lesser classes to keep themselves on top.”

Iahn said, “How so?”

“Think about it. The Adama teaches that only through honest business practices and mutual respect can one find peace and happiness. The key word is ‘honest.’ Sitting on the council of any of the big chakas in Vaelan quickly teaches that larger profits are possible the further a merchant stretches the concept of honesty.”

“Mmmm,” agreed Iahn noncommittally, seeing that Eined was expressing pent-up hostility. She might be correct, but he had little common experience as a basis for comparison.

“But,” continued Eined, warming to her argument, “the Durpari people get their sense of truth, fairness, and racial tolerance from the conviction that everything and everyone is a manifestation of the Adama. It’s the foundation by which they conduct themselves. In fact, word of the Adama has spread to other lands, giving all of us a reputation for evenhandedness and fairness—which only enhances business prospects.”

“Eined,” Ususi said quietly, “we’re being hailed. What should I do?”

While Eined lectured Iahn on the Adama, the road had begun to switch back and forth at an alarmingly precipitous angle. In a short time, they ascended a few hundred feet on a path that zigged and zagged upward.

An iron gate blocked access to the roadway ahead. On the left side of the gate was an impassable vertical wall. On the right side, a drop of a few hundred feet emptied onto a reddish-brown boulder field. Two men stood on the road in front of the gate, near a small guard cave hollowed into the side of the mountain. One had his hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword. The other, a pace behind the first and standing in the mouth of the cave, had a bow in hand and a shaft resting lightly on the string. Although the arrow was not yet drawn, the threat was implicit in the man’s stance.

The guard with the sword moved a step closer and yelled,

“Stop! Turn around. This route is closed.”

Eined stood immediately and raised her hand in greeting. “Captain Alberik, don’t you remember me?”

The captain blinked his eyes, then a grin spread wide over his face. “Mistress Eined!” The guard stopped, at a loss for words.

“How long has it been—five years?—since last you opened the side gate for me, Captain?”

The guard nodded. A smile flirted with his lips. “Too long. I’ve missed you.”

“Yes, yes, and I you,” said Eined hastily. “I’m back now—I must run up and talk with my uncle. Be a prince and open the way for me, won’t you?”

Alberik asked, “Why didn’t you come by airship? This access is closed.”

“If I had come by airship, how would you know I’d returned?”

The captain blushed, then said, “I thank the lady’s kindness.” Alberik turned to the other guard, who stood puzzling over his captain’s apparent familiarity with the intruder. “Open the gate. It’s all right—this is Eined Datharathi!”

The other guard jumped, retreated into the cave mouth, and in moments the sound of a metal crank was audible. The gate slowly slid into a recess in the cliff wall. As it did, Alberik moved to the side of the carriage. He reached up and grasped one of Eined’s hands, asking, “Will you come back to see me?”

Eined smiled and said, “I hope so.” Ususi drove the coach forward. In moments, they left behind the open gate and hopeful guard captain. Eined smiled fondly and said, “The fruits of a misspent youth sometimes work in your favor.”

The increasingly angled path terminated in a dark tunnel mouth. Adama’s Tooth still soared higher into the air. Even the efforts of dwarven engineering had limits—no mundane road could hope to reach Adama’s Tooth’s apex.

Eined pointed out the airship port—two great wings of stone high above them. They could see the silhouette of a ship hanging at a pier within the torchlit cavity.

“Someone from Vaelan is here. Probably just a routine visit.” Eined’s voice betrayed uncertainty.

“No doubt,” said Iahn. He was sure he’d have noticed any magical scrutiny of their approach. He’d felt none. The vengeance taker doubted that anyone expected Eined to appear at the family mine site.

Ususi drove the coach to the edge of the tunnel mouth and stopped. “We’re too wide,” she said, comparing the width of the tunnel to their carriage.

“This high passage is rarely used, and never by conveyances as large as this. We’ll have to walk from here.”

Ususi nodded. She tied off the reins, pulled the handbrake, and pointed at the steed tied into its harnesses. With a small pop, the creature vanished.

After dismounting, the trio gathered in front of the tunnel. Ususi snapped her fingers and said, “Bring me my pack!”

Eined glanced at the wizard, then at Iahn, uncertain if Ususi were talking to her. She gave a small jump of surprise when the coach door opened of its own accord and Ususi’s large pack floated out and into the wizard’s hands.

“Don’t worry. My uskura is always with us,” said Ususi, as she reached into the pack. She pulled forth a tiny orb of pale stone.

Eined peered around, trying to discern the invisible helper, with no luck.

“It’s perfectly natural. Where we’re from, they’re common aides.”

“Where you’re from … where is that?” asked Eined. “I’ve noticed how pale you both seem. And the streaks that run through your skin.”

“Our home is far from here,” broke in Iahn. “Now, let’s enter and find what we came for.”

Eined nodded and dropped the subject.

Ususi released the orb to orbit her brow, and a bright light broke from it. Following the wizard, Eined and Iahn entered the tunnel mouth.

“What’s wrong, Grandson?” asked Shaddon. “Are you not happy to see the excellent fashion in which your grandfather has preserved himself against time’s insult?”

The living flesh of the elder Datharathi, if any remained, was lost in glittering, glassy facets. His face was a crystalline mask, but beneath it, veins pulsed with blood, raw muscle moved, and bone gleamed. One eye socket was replaced completely with a crystal orb, but the other remained real—a watery blue orb that rolled and fluttered as if caught in a trap. The man was clothed head to toe in ornate golden robes complete with a stiff collar, cape, and silken gauntlets, so Warian was unable to determine the extent of Shaddon’s self-transformation. Warian feared the worst.

“I’m … glad to see you again after so long, Grandfather,” he finally managed. Warian unconsciously tried to catch the porter’s eye—had Uncle Zel known the extent of Shaddon’s transformation? The consummate professional, Zel didn’t react to Warian’s glance. Instead, he moved to one side as if looking for a place to set down the baggage.