Part 23 (1/2)

Changing direction before the modest summit was reached, they turned slightly south and east to follow the ridgeline until they found themselves standing in the brush that grew thickly above and behind the castle. Looking down, it was easy to see that its master was the ruler of a rich and prosperous land.

Turrets and battlements had been designed with an eye toward appearance as well as efficacy. Only the finest building stone had been used in the construction of the fortress. From within the keep as well as along the walls, flickering lights testified to the presence of oil lamps and torches.

They waited there, crouched down among the concealing chaparral, grateful for the pleasant, balmy night. Owls hooted from within the dark shadows of tall trees, to be answered by nocturnal dragonets whose occasional flights provided a diversion for the tarrying travelers. Moonlight s.h.i.+ning through their wings, they preyed on the bats that darted and dove above the treetops in search of moths and other insects, homing in on their victims with shrill, high-pitched squeaks. Between their oversized eyes and ears and long snouts lined with hundreds of thin, sharply pointed teeth, there was not much room left for the rest of their efficient but homely reptilian faces.

The moon had pa.s.sed its zenith and was waning toward morning when Ehomba s.h.i.+fted from the one-legged herdsman's stance in which he had been resting. ”It is time,” he declared simply. Taking the point from the black litah, he led the little company toward the castle.

Their initial impressions of its superior design and solid fortifications were confirmed by close inspection as they sidled in single file along its back wall. Nowhere could they find a loose stone to dig out, or a hole through which to squeeze. High above, serene sentries paced their posts, never thinking to look straight down. Why should they? Who would dare to try to sneak uninvited into the fortress of Hymneth the Possessed, and, more to the point, who would want to?

It was Simna ibn Sind, more familiar with castles and imposing stone structures than his tall friend, who suggested they try the storm drain. Large enough to allow all of them pa.s.sage, even Hunkapa, it penetrated the foot of the castle wall near its western edge. An iron grating blocked ultimate ingress, but though well blacksmithed, it had not been designed with an intruder the size of Hunkapa Aub in mind.

Lying sideways in the opening and bracing his feet against the interior wall, their s.h.a.ggy companion gripped one of the bars of the grate in both huge hands and pulled, intending to remove the bars one at a time. Instead, there was a muted grinding noise as the entire grate came away in his fingers. Hasty inspection revealed that, as might be expected of iron that had spent much time standing in water, the footings of the bottom bars were rusty. Not rusted through, but no longer possessed of their original strength, either. That was important, because it had allowed Hunkapa Aub to remove the grate quietly as well as quickly.

With Ehomba still leading, they took turns crawling through. The drain opened into a grooved, stone-faced flood-control channel that ran the length of a s.p.a.cious courtyard. Thus concealed below ground level, they were able to approach close to the back of the keep itself without being seen.

Approaching whistling forced them to halt, trapped with little more than the shadow of the building for cover. If they were discovered here, inside the main wall but outside the keep, they would have no choice but to retreat back the way they had come, knowing that the castle's defenders would subsequently be alert to any further encroachment and thereby making a renewed intrusion far more difficult. The whistling intensified and grew nearer. Simna silently removed his knife from his belt, only to have Ehomba put one hand on the swordsman's wrist and a long finger to his lips.

Around the corner sauntered a member of the household staff. Enjoying the windless, invigorating night air and oblivious to his immediate surroundings, he was on his way to work in the castle scullery when he blundered into the travelers. Stepping forward in a single stride, Ehomba put his right forearm around the man's neck and pulled, lifting and squeezing at the same time. In utter silence, the startled kitchen aide reached up with both hands to claw at his a.s.sailant's forearm. His eyes bulged and his lips worked, but, devoid of air from his lungs, no sound emerged.

Slowly, as if he were falling into a deep and gentle sleep, his eyes closed and his flailing hands and twitching body went limp. Without ever removing his forearm from the man's neck, Ehomba gently lowered him to the ground. Simna stepped forward to whisper admiringly.

”That's a fine move for a peaceful herdsman to know.”

”Sometimes it is necessary to restrain a frolicsome calf from hurting itself.” Almost invisible in the shadows, Ehomba moved forward, his sandals barely whispering across the courtyard flagstones. ”There was no reason to kill him. He will sleep until morning and wake with nothing worse than a sore throat.”

A grinning Simna silently sheathed his knife. ”It's a kindly invader you are, long bruther. If all my adversaries were as considerate as you, I'd have fewer scars in embarra.s.sing places.”

”So you would if you had led a more restrained life.” Finding a wooden door, the herdsman tried the iron latch. It opened at a touch, with an agreeable absence of noise.

They were in.

It was a storeroom of some kind, piled high with crates and containers of household goods. Though virtually pitch-black inside, there was among their company one for whom poor light and even the near absence thereof posed no obstacle. Following close behind Ahlitah, they made their way through the storeroom and into a hall beyond.

”Unless the interior layout of this pile is utterly different from every palace I've ever been in, there should be some kind of central chamber or meeting place.” Simna gestured forward. Beyond the storeroom, feeble but adequate light filtered in through distant windows and ports, allowing them to advance with greater confidence. Once again Ehomba took the lead.

Sounds drifted down to them from the upper reaches of the fortress, but they were isolated and few.

This late at night and this early in the morning, few denizens of the castle were stirring. Guards patrolled the main gates and outer wall, not the interior living quarters. Ehomba was concerned about the possibility of encountering free-roaming dogs but, oddly, none were about. Despite his interminable curiosity it was, however, a problem to which he could at the moment devote but little thought.

”Here, this way.” Advancing, the herdsman gestured for the others to follow him to the left. Proceeding silently through a travertine-trimmed archway, they found themselves in the high-ceilinged, central chamber whose existence Simna had earlier propounded.

It was utterly silent. Moonlight entered through stained-gla.s.s windows of unsettling motif high above the floor. The swordsman was excited to discover that the floor was paved not with slabs of granite or even marble, but with semiprecious stone such as rhodochrosite and lapis, agate and onyx. Therewas treasure here; ample treasure. He could smell it.

”Now all we have to do is find the room where the Visioness is held,” Ehomba whispered. ”We will take a servant prisoner and seek the information from him.” His voice was low and tight with expectancy.

”Simna and I have dealt with guards before. With luck, we will be able to spirit her out of the castle and back along the route we used to enter. By daybreak we will be away from the city and safely in among the mountains.”

”Hoy, that sounds grand, bruther. But what about the treasure?” Deeply concerned with other matters, Simna hovered close to his lanky companion.

”The Visioness first,” Ehomba reminded him tautly. ”When we have her, then we will discuss the matter of treasure. Better to worry now about guards, and whether this Hymneth the Possessed sleeps near at hand to the one called Themaryl.”

”Tonight, he does not sleep!” The booming voice was shockingly loud and immediate.

Illumination flooded the audience chamber as the fifty fine lamps that lined the enclosing walls and hung from the high ceiling came simultaneously to life, filling the imposing room with light. Whirling as one, the four travelers found themselves staring at the far end of the chamber. There was a throne there, raised up on a high but modest dais. Seated on the throne was a towering, striking figure clad from head to foot in burnished armor of florid design and elegant execution. Bejeweled floor lamps of solid malachite blazed on either side of the chiseled seat of state, their light glimmering off the gold and azure armor.

From beneath a helmet of alloyed red and green gold, eyes blazed with no less intensity than the plethora of dazzling lamps. One mailed arm was upraised. As it lowered slightly, so did the light of the fifty lamps, reducing the blinding brilliance that flushed the chamber to a more tolerable level. Straight-backed and steely-eyed, white of hair and lean of muscle, a venerable soldier-sage stood to the left of the throne and slightly to its rear. Near the foot of the splendid dais fluttered two ominous, independently hovering puffs of malevolent black vapor.

The intruders scanned entrances and alcoves, but the rest of the chamber was deserted. There were no concealed guards, no approaching platoons of heavily armored soldiers, no murderous dogs snarling and snapping madly at the ends of handlers' chains. Only the imposing figure seated on the dais, and the single venerable attendant.

Simna's hand drifted away from his sword. The black litah rose slowly from his crouch. Around them, saturated wicks flickered and sputtered softly, fed by finely sieved and blended oils. Ehomba searched the helmet-shrouded eyes of the towering figure seated on the throne, and those same deep-set, intelligent eyes gazed unblinkingly back.

”'A master of the necromantic arts,' the Worm said. 'A questioner of all that is unanswered.'” Leaning forward slightly on the dais, Hymneth the Possessed, Lord of Ehl-Larimar and Supreme Ruler of the central Aurreal coast all the way from the Wall of Motops to the frozen northlands, leaned his chin on his fist as he considered the taller of the two humans standing before him. ”Have you really come from all the way across the Semordria, the eastern ocean?”

It took Simna a moment to find his voice. Swallowing hard but uncowed, he boldly took a step forward.

”Not only from across the Semordria, but from far to the south as well.”

The armored specter ignored the swordsman. For Hymneth, Simna ibn Sind did not exist. Nor, except as transitory curiosities, did Hunkapa Aub or the black litah. He had words only for the tall, slim, spear-wielding figure clad in simple s.h.i.+rt and kilt who met his gaze without flinching.

”I must say that you don't look the part.” After holding the stare for another long, thoughtful moment, the Possessed sighed and sat back on his throne, dropping his arms to the sculpted dragon-headed rests.

”After all this waiting, it's something of a disappointment. However, when it comes to reading tomorrows, even the Worm is not omnipotent.”

”By Gosthenhark, we're due some respect here for what we've done!” Insults Simna could deal with, but he could not and would not be ignored. ”This is my friend the Naumkib Etjole Ehomba, who comes from a land so far to the east and south you cannot conceive of the distance.”

”Can't I?” Already, Hymneth was sounding bored.

”He is a wizard of inestimable wisdom and power, controlling forces you cannot hope to defeat.”

Straightening proudly, the swordsman touched a thumb to his chest. ”Iam Simna ibn Sind, virtuoso of blades and sixth-degree adept in the warrior arts of my homeland. We have not come all this way, defeating dangers and overcoming obstacles beyond your imagining, to be treated with contempt. We mean to have from you the Visioness Themaryl of Laconda, unwillingly abducted from her family and home, and return her to her people.” He took a step back and then added hastily, ”And whatever treasure of yours we can carry off with us as well.”

Hymneth the Possessed nodded slowly, his posture and att.i.tude indicative of a weary patience. The senior soldier at his side remained standing at attention, having moved not a muscle or, insofar as Ehomba could tell, an eye, during the entire confrontation. As for the amorphous blobs of black effluvium, Ehomba knew what they were.

”Well spoken,” the Lord of Ehl-Larimar deigned to comment. ”While I generally dislike volubility in my soldiers, you exhibit the kind of blind and dumb courage that can sometimes prove valuable. I might have use for you.” Before a defiant Simna could reply, Hymneth returned his attention to the silently watching Ehomba.

”When first I was warned of your coming, I was concerned. Not afraid, mind, or worried, but concerned. It is a foolish man who is not concerned with the unknown. This consideration troubled my thoughts, and became so persistent as to unsettle my sleep. Then, things changed. Or rather, something of great importance changed. So much so that it no longer became a matter of interest to me whether you reached Ehl-Larimar or not.” Behind the helmet there surfaced the suggestion of a smile.

”This came about because I became immune to anything you could do. Believe me, when the change took place it was a revelation as welcome as it was surprising.” He leaned his head slightly to one side. ”I look forward with complete indifference to whatever you may choose to do next.”

Simna whispered tersely to his laconic friend. ”He's bluffing. No matter how powerful he is, he knows nothing of our strengths or powers. Therefore he can't be as disinterested as he says.” When Ehomba did not comment, the swordsman decided to go on the offensive. Raising his voice, he challenged the armored figure slumping on the throne.

”If you think you can intimidate us with words, then you've no idea of what we've gone through in the getting here.” His fingers slid meaningfully to the hilt of his sword. ”It doesn't matter if you're alone except for that old menial and a couple of black puffb.a.l.l.s, or if your whole army is waiting just outside this room. We demand that the Visioness Themaryl be brought before us-and that's just for a start.”

The helmeted skull nodded slowly. ”As you will see, I can be quite an agreeable fellow.” Turning slightly to his right, he gestured toward the shadows. ”There is no need to send for her. She's right here.”

From out of the darkness strode the abducted enchantress of far-distant Laconda. Trailing pale blue chiffon and silk, her flowing tresses bound up in a snood of gold wire set with sapphires and tourmalines, she seemed to glide across the floor toward the dais. Having been smitten with her aspect in a vision, Simna was no less overwhelmed by her loveliness in person. Though he had known many comely women, they were as thistles compared to the radiant rose that now stood before him.

Commanded to appear, he expected her to halt well short of the throne. She did not. As he searched for hidden chains or restraints, she mounted the dais until she was standing directly alongside the throne itself.