Song of Time

17

Riolla held the spyglass to her eye and tried to find Rotapan and Saelin through the mountain mists. For some time, she had been able to follow them up the craggy sides of Drufalden's stronghold, but now she had lost them.

"I don't like this one bit."

She collapsed the glass into its casing and ate another banana. It was getting a bit lonely in the warm spring's bower. Riolla shifted her deep blue eyes over the tropical foliage, checking for movement or intruders. It had not been the best of ideas to stay there alone, but she could not risk putting herself on Drufalden's home soil without more protection.

The steady dripping of the condensed steam from the plants had begun to annoy her. Her hair drooped and her clothes were soaked through. She so hated wet places; full of noxious mold and mildew. She stirred the little fire at her feet, trying to get dry, but the heat was making her sleepy. The steamy spring gurgled invitingly a few feet from the fire. If she were already wet, she might as well enjoy it and stay awake at the same time. Riolla looked around one more time and then began to undress.

Across the spring, Og grabbed the trunk of a banana tree to keep from breaking his neck as he tumbled gracelessly out of nothingness and into what appeared to be paradise. His song had taken him away from Womba, but he had no idea where it had dropped him. As he had held the stones in his hand and sung an unmaking spell, the last thing he remembered thinking about was… Riolla.

And to his astonishment and incredible delight, there she was, lounging in the midst of the warm spring with an orchid in her hair. Og blinked, thinking he dreamed. An orchid. Just like the one he had conjured for her the day he had proposed. Og's heart broke all over again as he looked through the thick tropical undergrowth. His nose poked into another hand of bananas for camouflage.

Riolla took her time in the misty waters, her head floating just above the bubbling surface. But when she rose to leave the spring, Og noticed for the first time that she was very, very naked. Enraptured, he shut his eyes, trying to orient himself, then looked up to try to find the three sisters. The swirling mist obscured the sky for the most part, but Og could make out the familiar constellation now and then when the firmament cleared for a brief moment. Everything looked pretty much the same as it did at the selkies' lodge, except that he knew he had moved a little west, lliis had to be the warm spring at the base of Drufalden's mountain.

Placing the two gemstones in his bag, Og began to plan quickly. Womba would surely be coming after him now that she knew he wasn't at the lodge, and he could return to the selkies' river any time before daybreak, when Cheyne had said they were leaving for the forest. But first, he wanted to get just a little closer. Just to be with her again. Just one last look, while she didn't know he was looking, while they were alone together.

He shoved his nose back into the bananas just as Riolla slipped back into her robes, an appealing pink flush upon her white skin. Og's sudden motion made the tree sway enough to attract her glance, and while she stopped to listen for a moment, he steadied the tree, not risking even a breath. But it was too late. Riolla, having seen the tree's hand of ripe bananas, smiled greedily and moved through the wild growth with glee, her eyes fastened on the heavy, golden bunch.

Og could do nothing but await the inevitable. Riolla yanked at the biggest banana on the stalk, and Og came tumbling out of his hiding place, holding his battered nose.

Riolla only barely contained her shriek. She did not at all contain her wrath. "You! Where did you come from? Have you been watching me, you ugly little raqa-fogged peeper? Saelin!" she called, wanting Og to believe he was moments from losing his head.

He picked himself up from the slick, vine-covered ground and drew himself to his full height, faced Riolla, and looked deeply into her furious eyes. He had waited years to be able to speak to her and he knew exactly what he was going to say.

"I… I love you, Riolla," he croaked, his voice cracking miserably.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste and gingerly grabbed him by the collar, marching him through the lush ferns and club mosses over to the fire, where she tied him to a thick-trunked rubber tree with vines, stirred the fire up angrily, and sat down to decide just how she could hold the old stickaburr for ransom.

"Saelin, I'm waiting!" Riolla's sharp voice cut through the mist several yards away from the warm spring's thick cover.

When no one appeared or answered her, she strained her ears again, keeping a dagger in Og's ribs to assure his silence as well. Several more minutes passed without another sound from the mountainside. Og waited peacefully, never offering any attempt at escape. After all, he was exactly where he had dreamed of being since Riolla had left him. The gag was tasting a little nasty, though, and his nose hurt horribly. Og finally turned his face away from Riolla long enough to rub his head against the rough tree bark to scratch a mosquito bite.

And came eye to eye with Womba.

He couldn't even scream.

"Ngah! Ngah!" he managed, but Riolla, still unsure of their solitude, shoved the dagger back into his ribs and craned her head the other way.

Womba looked at him all doe-eyed and dewy, and was about to tweak his bindings loose and carry him off when another visitor appeared out of the mist and took a seat at the fire. Womba's nose, confused by a sudden abundance of strange smells, had missed the intruder.

"By the empty jar of Nin, Naruq! Why are you here? Can you never announce yourself like anyone else? I might have killed you before you could have been recognized," Riolla sputtered.

The tall elf smiled sardonically. "I doubt that very much, Schreefa. Very much indeed. As you were told, I am your guide through the curtain of light. You have taken a prisoner, I see. Although I think this one was not so difficult. Hello, Ogwater, is it?"

"Ngah. Nagahhh!" Og cried.

Ignoring the elf, Womba nonetheless withdrew, fearing she had frightened Ogwater. A swirl of steam brought a new, particularly strong scent, her little yellow eyes hardening with what the smell suggested.

"Ngah, Ngah!" repeated Og, but Riolla had forgotten him.

"Not much of a conversationalist, is he?" said Naruq. Riolla studied the elf for a moment. "I haven't seen you since the route was closed. What have you been up to?"

"Nothing I care to discuss. But I have a bit of information you might like to hear. For a price, of course," said the elf.

"How much?"

"I think half of what you let the digger find under the Clock will do."

Riolla looked at him levelly. But he knew he had guessed the truth.

"Surprised that I knew you planned to take it alt for yourself?" he continued. "I could have told the Raptor back in Sumifa, but then 1 would have had to do your job, too. And this way, we both get what we want. You can have Sumifa, but I want Sarraza and what lies below it."

"What do you know about the Clock?" growled Riolla. Og perked up his own ears, but pretended to drowse from fatigue.

"Enough. But you don't."

"What do you mean? she hissed.

"Well, — there is the matter of how it works."

"What do you mean? Stop toying with me, Naruq."

"The digger has what he needs now to find and open the Clock. It's in that book his father has carried with him all over Almaaz. You did not know you were being followed? Yes, I thought that might bring a pique to your complexion. But the digger and his book are not a problem, even if he gets the Treefather to read it for him."

"Why not?"

"We now have something he wants."

Naruq stood and parted the foliage behind him to reveal Claria, her golden eyes molten with anger, her hands and feet tied, and a gag in her mouth.

Already agitated by Claria's perfume, Womba could contain herself no longer. When she saw the girl, she roared and leapt from her hiding place, ripping the small tree that Og was tied to from the ground by its roots. Og bounced free from it just before she swung it. Naruq, caught totally by surprise, barely managed to dodge the blow himself. Riolla rolled her eyes, the orcess's appearance just one more inconvenience. Claria could only roll under another sturdy bush and hope for the best.

Womba missed her again and again, each swat of the tree breaking it farther down its shaft until the orcess held only a stick of kindling in her scaly hands. Naruq had drawn his dagger, but could not get his aim until she turned her face toward him and he brought the knife across her cheek with a vicious slash. Her eyes full of blood, Womba bellowed again, grabbed Og, who had not yet worked free from his ropes, and ran into the night.

"That was brilliant. Now he can go and tell the digger what we plan to do," said Riolla.

Naruq chuckled, wiping his dagger on Claria's robes. "Oh, but don't you see, Schreefa? The orcess will take him as far from the others as she can. By the way, you did check his pockets, didn't you?"

"Of course not. Why should I; he didn't even have Rotapan's staff. You expected me to actually touch him? It was all I could do to tie him up, the little cockroach. He would never hurt me anyway."

"He had two of the stones."

Riolla's face went ashen. Naruq looked down his long angular nose at her with disdain. "The digger is headed for the Treefather. He's the only one who can read the book. I'll have to take him into the forest, so I'll hear what the old graybeard has to say and be back as quickly as I can. Your job is to take care of her while I'm gone. Don't hurt her or let her get away, Riolla. You need what only I can provide, or you'll never get to the Clock… think on that, and be grateful I have decided to give it to you."

Riolla sneered at his back as he melted into the forest. Then she turned to Claria and smiled, her mouth a little pink rosebud of false pity.

"We meet for the first time, my dear. I had hoped you would see me at the wedding. Maceo was quite taken with you at one time, I know. But of course, all that is over now. And your little insignificant life will be over soon, too. I'll just take his ring back to him for you."

Riolla reached for the ring on Claria's finger, and to her great surprise, the girl did not try to draw back her bound hands. Instead, she wiggled her finger, now swollen again, right under the Schreefa's nose. Riolla cocked an eyebrow at Claria and tried to remove the ring.

Which, of course, would not come off. Claria laughed behind her gag. Riolla was not amused.

"Ah… well, then. There are other ways, my dear," she cooed.

Rotapan finished reciting Riolla's request and fell silent.

"All right, Wyrvil. Hand over the coin," said Drufalden, tapping the arm of her throne with a long silver nail.

Rotapan blinked and rolled his eyes, adjusting them to the blazing brightness of Drufalden's chambers. Saelin had removed the half-ore's blindfold only after they had been escorted through the maze of ice and stone that formed Drufalden's personal corridor.

Rotapan fished into his pocket and reluctantly brought forth the Ninnite coin. Drufalden examined it carefully, at last satisfied that it matched the Raptor's description.

"You just saved your miserable life, Wyrvil. I've been waiting for years at the chance to have you standing before me. Tell Riolla her escort will be waiting. I'll send five hundred of my finest assassins to wait at the curtain. She can meet them there.

"Get him out of my sight before I forget myself, Saelin." Drufalden waved her hand at the assassin.

Saelin smiled, bowed, and dropped the blindfold neatly back over Rotapan's head. As they moved through the frozen corridor, the air seemed strangely warmer and smelled different. Rotapan felt water beneath his feet. Then he heard a peculiar sound.

Like the thawing of a river. Like the cracking of ice.

Saelin heard it, too. There was half a mile of corridor left to go. The assassin ran for his life, splashing down the long maze, leaving the half-ore to stumble blindly into the melting walls, the roof of the corridor already dissolving at a rate far faster than a natural thaw.

Rotapan tore off the blindfold and raced after the assassin, Saelin's footprints a fresh trail in the sugary, ice.

Exhorting Chelydrus's mercy the entire distance, Rotapan coughed and wheezed through the slippery corridor, the roof raining icy water down his neck, but holding up in spite of the sudden thaw. The half-ore slid the last several feet out into the courtyard, barely avoiding a drenching puddle of slush, picked himself up, and looked around for Saelin. The assassin had vanished.

Leaving Rotapan with nowhere to go. Except home. He wrapped his thin cloak about himself disgustedly, set himself in alignment with the sisters, and proceeded through the melting courtyard and down the mountain.

Behind him, Drufaiden's crystalline kingdom seeped into dirty rivulets that became muddy streams, which then emptied into the rivers below. By the next day, ice that had stood in walls a hundred feet high would flood the land below the mountain and end up pouring into the Silver Sea. Rotapan paused as he passed by the remains of the magnificent sculpture of Chelydrus, now a featureless lump amid a growing puddle.

"Mighty Chelydrus, you alone survive, your face perfect and your form without blemish. Nothing can touch your glory. I wilt rebuild your temple, my lord. Only see me safe home, and 1 will raise it again. I will hold the staff again. I am Rotapan, Rex Serpens to the ten tribes!" he shouted aloud, and moved down the mountainside as though he still were.

Behind him, the slave the guards had taken, his face beaten raw and one of his eyes already swollen shut, slipped out of the corridor and waved his hand in a sharp downward motion. The wolf pup came bounding out of his hiding place in the rocks and leapt playfully into his arms. The Neffian knelt painfully and let the wolf sniff his wounds, but hushed him when he began to whimper, then led him into a dark crevice under an overhang at the edge of Drufaiden's courtyard.

"Rafek! Where have you been? What happened to you?" the voices seemed to come from all around the Neffian as he moved from the secret entrance of the colony to the main cavern.

"There's no time to explain. The guards have melted! Yes! Even as they beat me-I was out hunting with the wolves and couldn't get back to the doorway before the guards sensed me-but the guards just turned to water before my eyes. 1 thought I was dead and dreaming. Now 1 see that the whole place is going-something has changed out there."

A hundred old Nefftans, all past work, but still bearing the silver collar with Drufaiden's mark, looked at Rafek like he was mad.

"You can't mean that, man, look at you-it's probably from the beating. But where are Jepli and Carsh?" said one of the older men, whose name was Salmak.

"The Wyrvil king killed them both. Only QTarin survives." The wolf pup licked his hand at the sound of his name.

"The… Wyrvil king? You saw the Wyrvil king up on this mountain? Rotapan, who traded us all into slavery again when we had run from Sumifa?" Salmak began to shake his head and roll his eyes. A few of the others politely covered their toothless smiles.

"I did. I thought he was a lost traveler at first and I tried to help him. For that kindness, he killed my wolves. From the guards' loose talk, I know that another, an assassin, took the Wyrvil in to see Drufalden herself. I didn't see the assassin when I came out of the corridor, but the half-ore is on his way back down the mountain now. Apparently alone," added Rafek. "I tell you, things have happened. The New King is at hand, just like the juma said. My brother Doulos was right-we are about to be free! Where are the house servants? The men in the mines? The smiths? Ask them if this kingdom is not melting. Or look outside for yourself if you don't believe me!"

The old man smoothed back his thick mane of white hair and pulled on his silver collar, then motioned one of the others to take a cautious look out the secret entrance.

"All right, Rafek, calm down. If Silufe brings back water, we will act on this," the elder said, giving Silufe an empty cup to take with him. In a few moments, Rafek's eye was bandaged and the other man had returned with a smile and a cup of water.

"The guards are gone. But the assassins have manned the courtyard," said Silufe. Rafek settled, glad that they finally believed his news.

Salmak smiled in his white beard. "I never thought I'd live to see it. But perhaps we have a chance now. They are just men and women. We could not fight magic. But we can fight flesh and blood and bone. We will have to plan carefully. There are still many more of the assassins than there are of us, but we will have our chance." He pulled again on the silver collar. "She is not invincible anymore."

Rafek hugged the wolf pup and stood up to leave. "Take care of Q'Tarin. I'm going after that Wyrvil snake."

"Rafek-the Ninnites will take you down in a heartbeat. The courtyard is crawling with them," said Silufe.

"I have to go. It may be the only chance we have at him while he's alone and unprotected. And he killed my wolves, Silufe. You know I cannot let that go." Rafek threw on a heavy cloak and crept back out to the secret entrance.

He had to wait only a few minutes before the assassins gathered in the center of the yard to light their rations of shirrir. When their backs were turned from the wind, Rafek moved shadowlike out of the rocks and down the trail.

And Q'Tarin, who had bitten every hand that had tried to restrain him, trotted silently behind.