The Seeker

9

The Barrier Mountains were a crescent-shaped range, bowed out to the northwest, with the tips of the crescent pointing east and south. At the southernmost end of the mountain range, near the lower tip of the crescent, stood the city of Gulg. At the opposite end of the crescent, separated from Gulg by the wide and verdant valley sheltered between the opposite ends of the range, was the city of Nibenay. From where Sorak stood, on the crest near the upper end of the range, he could see the city down below. The city of Gulg was barely visible in the distance, shrouded in the early morning mist at the far end of the valley.

The two cities were located in one of the few areas of Athas that were still green. The region was sustained by runoff from the mountains and by underground springs that bubbled to the surface, most located near Nibenay. According to The Wanderer’s Journal, which Sorak had studied while they camped in the mountains, Gulg was not so much a city as a large settlement of hunter-gatherers who depended on the forests of the barrier Mountains for their sustenance.

The ruler. or oba, of Gulg was the sorcerer-queen, Lalali-Puy, whose name meant “forest goddess” in the language of her people. She enjoyed the full support of her rather primitive subjects, who worshipped her as if she were a deity.

The oba resided in what was perhaps the most unusual palace on Athas, one that was constructed high up in the limbs of an ancient and gigantic agafari tree. Her templars lived in huts constructed in the lower limbs of that same tree.

The palace, wrote the Wanderer, was small, but magnificent—simple, and yet beautiful, reflecting the strong bond the residents of Gulg felt with the trees of the forest. Though she was a defiler, the oba was the closest of all Athasian rulers to the life path of a druid. However, it was a path she had perverted through her pursuit of power in the defiler arts.

Most of the residents of Gulg lived in small, circular thatched huts around the gigantic agafari tree where their queen made her home. Their simple dwellings were protected by a defensive “wall” that was, in reality, a huge hedge of thorny trees planted so close together that not even a halfling could squeeze through without being cut to ribbons.

For the most part, the people of Gulg were savage, tribal peasants who hunted in the forests of the mountains and turned over all their game to the oba, who then distributed the food to her simple people through her templars.

The traders of the merchant guilds had to deal with the templars rather than directly with the people, and for this reason: Torian’s father, one of the queen’s templars, had forged a powerful alliance with the House of Ankhor. He had also raised a son in the warrior tradition of the judaga, the warrior headhunters of Gulg, fierce fighters and deadly archers whose poisoned darts could kill by the slightest scratch. Small wonder, Sorak thought, that Torian had felt so little compassion or regard for human life.

Nibenay, on the other hand, was a more conventional city, at least in the sense that it had buildings made of wood and stone. The architecture of Nibenay, however, was anything but conventional. Sorak had been fascinated by the Wanderer’s description of the stone carvings that covered almost every inch of every building in Nibenay. The people of the city were artisans and stonemasons, and justifiably proud of their skills, which they used to embellish buildings with intricate designs and scenes. Some depicted the buildings’ owners or the ancestors of the owners, others showed ritual dances, still more displayed carvings of beasts and monsters executed in painstaking detail, as if to placate such creatures and their voracious appetites.

The people of Nibenay had a much more diverse economy than the people of Gulg, who depended on trade with the merchant houses for all their goods. Aside from the small statues, idols, busts, and building decorations carved by the city’s stonemasons, for which there was much demand, the city had an agricultural economy, chiefly centered around rice fields irrigated by springs under the nobility’s control. But most of all, Nibenay was known for its production of weapons, particularly those fashioned from dense agafari wood, which was almost as hard and durable as bronze.

Agafari trees were slow growing and drought resistant, but when irrigated or when planted in the mountains, where there was a greater supply of water, they grew thicker and faster. War clubs made from agafari wood were capable of bursting almost any type of armor, and agafari spears and fighting staves were incredibly strong, despite their slenderness. They would resist blows from obsidian swords and even the extremely rare iron weapons could do little more than nick them. Agafari wood simply did not break.

As a result, it was difficult to work, and it took skilled craftsmen to make weapons from the wood. Entire teams of foresters sometimes took days to fell a single tree, working with stone spades and axes and controlled burning of the root system. Crafting weapons from agafari wood required special tools and a forge for carefully controlled tempering.

A longbow made from agafari wood was not only difficult to draw, but if an archer possessed the necessary strength, it was capable of launching arrows with such force that armor would be penetrated at a distance of fifty yards. The craftsmen of Nibenay were justifiably famous for their agafari weapons, and the demand for them among the merchant guilds was high. There lay the crux of the rivalry between Gulg and Nibenay.

The weapons makers of Nibenay harvested the agafari trees growing in the Crescent Forest, but the hunter-gatherers of Gulg depended on them for their livelihood. The agafari forests sheltered game that fed the city of Gulg, and beneath the spreading canopies of the agafari trees grew kola bushes and pepper shrubs and other vegetation that not only helped feed the citizens of Gulg, but provided them a spice and herb trade. For more years than anyone could count, bitter rivalry had existed between the two cities, one that had frequently escalated into war over the available natural resources.

“Why do not the people of Nibenay simply plant new agafari trees from seedlings for the ones that they cut down?”

Sorak had asked Korahna.

“They do,” the princess replied, “but they plant them in groves surrounding the city, where they can easily be irrigated by the springs. They do not bother to replant what they cut down in the Crescent Forest because irrigating those trees would not be practical, and it would require more time and effort to keep bringing the wood down from the slopes of the foothills. Then, too, the templars, who direct these operations, believe that depriving Gulg of its resources over time will weaken the city and make it more vulnerable to attack, or else render it completely dependent on Nibenay, which would require their capitulation.”

“And in the meantime, the Crescent Forest is destroyed,” Ryana said, “and along with it, the life cycle of the plants and animals supported by the forest.”

“True.” Korahna nodded. “As a girl, I had never even thought of such things, and I did not even begin to understand them until I started to study the preserver writings in secret and contacted the Veiled Alliance. The people of Nibenay fail to understand that it is not only the people of Gulg who will be hurt by this cruel practice, but themselves, as well. And the templars, if they know, do not seem to care. It is one of the; things I hope, somehow, to change one day.”

“That will mean aligning yourself against your father,” said Ryana.

“I have already done that,” said Korahna. “Once I had taken the preserver vow, I turned my back on him forever.”

“And incurred his enmity,” said Sorak. “If he even knows,” Korahna said. “Nibenay cares less and less for the affairs of his family, much less his kingdom. Do you know that I have never even seen him?”

“Never?” said Ryana with amazement. “Your own father?”

“Not even once,” Korahna said. “If he ever gazed at me or held me when I was an infant, I have no memory of it. His subjects never see him, either. For all my life, he has remained cloistered within the central portion of the palace, where no one save the senior templars ever sets foot. As long as I have lived, few of his many wives have ever even laid eyes on him.”

“How many wives does he have?” Ryana asked. “All the templars are his wives,” Korahna said. “Or else they are his daughters. The templars of Nibenay are all female, and the senior templars are the oldest of his wives. It is considered a great honor to be made a senior templar. One must first serve within the sacred ranks for a minimum of twenty-five years, then be elected to the office based on merit, which is determined by the other senior templars. Vacancies occur only upon death, and the oath is said to be most arduous. Some have even died in the administering of it.”

“Do you know why it is that you have never seen your father?” Sorak asked.

Korahna shook her head. “I have often wondered, but the few times I have asked, I have been told that it was not for me to question such things.”

“You have never seen him for the same reason his subjects never see him,” Sorak said, “because the Shadow King is no longer a man. It would repel the eye to look upon him now.”

“What do you mean?” Korahna asked.

“He has embarked upon the path of dragon metamorphosis,” said Sorak.

“My father?” said Korahna.

“All of the remaining sorcerer-kings are already at some stage of the dragon metamorphosis,” said Sorak. “Each of them fears the others will complete the transformation first, so they are expending all their efforts on the long and arduous spells involved.”

“I never knew,” Korahna said, a stricken expression on her face. “Not even my friends in the Veiled Alliance told me.”

“They probably sought to spare your feelings,” said Ryana.

“My own father,” said Korahna in a hollow voice. “It was bad enough when I realized what it meant to be a defiler, but to think that he is in the process of becoming a creature that is the foulest and most evil thing to ever walk this blighted world ...” She shook her head. “I curse the day that I was born into such a pestilential kinship.”

“Now, perhaps, you can understand why the Sage takes such pains to conceal his whereabouts,” Ryana

“There is only one creature that can stand up to a dragon, and that is an avangion. Each of the remaining sorcerer-kings would give almost anything to learn the Sage’s hiding place, for he represents the greatest threat to their power.”

“And if they can succeed in eliminating him,” said Sorak, “then there will be nothing to stop them. They will complete their transformations, and then they will turn on one another.”

“Then they will all destroy each other,” said Korahna.

“Perhaps,” said Sorak. “But in the end, it is likely that one shall triumph. However, by that time, Athas will be reduced to a blasted, lifeless piece of rock.”

“They must be stopped,” said Korahna.

“The Sage is the only one who can stand a chance to do that,” said Ryana, “unless, somehow, the dragons can be killed before they are able to complete their transformations.”

“I will do everything I can to help,” Korahna said.

“You shall soon have that chance,” said Sorak, looking down toward Nibenay.

They entered the city by its main gate, two giant, stone columns set into the walls, carved in deep relief with the intertwining figures of serpents and fire drakes. The bored-looking half-giant guards passed them through without comment and without bothering to search them. There was a steady stream of people passing in and out, and in Nibenay, as in most cities of Athas, everyone went armed. The sight of a sword and a knife or two excited no comment.

Had they known that the three bedraggled-looking pilgrims carried metal swords, the guards might have been much more interested, but the day was hot and they could not be bothered to examine everybody passing through the gates.

Troublemakers soon found more than they had bargained for within the city walls. The templars did not tolerate violations of the city’s laws, and the half-giants who composed the city’s guard and army were usually more than enough to deal with any criminal.

The first thing they did was make their way to the city’s central marketplace, where they sold their kanks. Korahna would remain in Nibenay, and Sorak and Ryana had no idea how long they would be staying. When it came time to leave, they could either purchase kanks or book passage with a caravan, or even go on foot, as they had done before.

There was little point in expending their limited resources by stabling the kanks. Sorak’s practiced negotiation, aided by the Guardian’s psionic powers, enabled them to get a good price for the kanks, and the first of the proceeds bought them a good meal in one of the city’s taverns.

Korahna did not draw any curious glances. Since she had spent most of her life within the walls of the palace compound, none of the citizens of Nibenay could have known her by sight, save for those she had met in the Alliance, and they never would have recognized her. She looked nothing like a princess now.

Attired in the too-large clothing taken from the mercenaries and dusty from their journey, she looked nore like a desert herder than a scion of the royal house of Nibenay. Her long blond hair hung lank and loose and tangled, her face was begrimed, her hands were dirty and now callused, her once-long fingernails bitten short, and she had lost weight on the journey. She now looked lean and hard, and there was something in her face that had not been there before—a look of experience.

What curious looks they received were due less to her appearance than to that of Sorak and Ryana. Unlike most villichi, Ryana’s hair was silvery white rather than red, and though she lacked the unnatural elongation of the limbs that characterized villichi, she was unusually tall for a woman. Her height and coloring, together with her lean muscularity, made her an imposing figure.

Sorak was even more uncommon looking. The people of Nibenay had never seen an elfling before. At first glance, Sorak looked human, but still different, somehow. Many of those they passed on the streets turned to stare at him without quite knowing why. Those who were more observant might have noticed his pointed ears when the breeze blew his hair back, or else they might have marked the unusual, elven angularity of his features, or the lustrous thickness of his hair, like a halfling’s mane. They might have noted that he, too, was tall, though perhaps not unusually so for a human. But even the least observant of them, if they looked into his face, could not have failed to note his eyes, deeply sunken, and with a gaze so direct and penetrating that most people were forced to look away.

The tavern where they sat, near the central marketplace, was open to the air and covered by an awning/ so that they could watch the street and see the bustle of activity as evening approached and the traders began to close up their stalls for the day. Little by little, the marketplace began to empty as the shadows lengthened and people went home or repaired to taverns and other places of amusement. The tavern where they sat soon began to fill up with noisy patrons, looking to wash the dust of the marketplace and the heat of the day from their throats.

“So how does it feel to be back home?” Ryana asked.

“Strange,” replied Korahna, pushing away her dinner plate and looking around. “When I left, I never thought to see the city again. Now, after our journey through the barrens and the mountains, it seems strange to see so many people in one place. It feels ... oppressive.”

Ryana smiled. “I know just how you feel,” she said. “There is something about the solitude and beauty of the desert that invades one’s soul. It is as if it expands somehow, freed of the confines of a city or a village... or even of a villichi temple. Then, when you find yourself among people once again, you feel closed in and crowded.”

“Yes,” Korahna said, “that is exactly how it feels.”

“People were not meant to live in cities,” said Ryana. “Cities are artificial things, born of a need, at first, to band together for survival, and then of a convenience in terms of shelter, trade, and industry, and as the population grows more dense, the available space becomes confining, and the soul draws in to compensate for lack of room. People become less open. They are taken over by the faster rhythms that result from overcrowding. Everyone is always in a hurry, everyone is always in someone else’s way. People become more agitated, less trusting, more prone to react with violence. Cities are unhealthy things. They do not let people breathe freely.

“When I was a girl, I dreamt of going to a city because it seemed like an adventure. Now, I cannot imagine why anyone would want to live this way, like antloids in a hive. Maybe that is why defilers live in cities. They have forgotten what it is that they defile. They cannot love a world they only rarely see.”

“Still, it is my home,” Korahna said. “Here I was born, and here I grew up, and here I must make amends for having lived a life of privilege while others suffered. Cities shall never change, Ryana, unless someone works to change them.”

“Can a city be something other than what it is?” Ryana asked.

“Perhaps not,” the princess replied, “but it can be more than what it is. Surely, the effort is worthwhile.”

Ryana sighed. “It would be nice to think so.”

“It grows dark,” said Sorak. “And night is the best time to contact the Alliance. I shall feel better when I know that you are safely in their company.”

“Are you so anxious to be rid of me?” Korahna asked.

“No,” said Sorak. “Merely anxious to complete the task for which we came here. And I do not even know yet what that task might be.”

“And you think the Alliance shall know?”

“If the Alliance elders have contact with the Sage, then he shall let us know through them,” said Sorak.

“And if he does not?”

“Then I do not know what we shall do,” said Sorak. “The spell scroll bid us come to Nibenay. Well, we are here, at last. We have done our part. Now it is time for the Sage to do his.”

“Well, then I shall take you to meet with the Alliance,” said Korahna, pushing back her chair and rising to her feet.

“You have brought me home, for which I am profoundly grateful. I left a pampered princess, and I have returned a woman who has learned something of her capabilities. For that, too, I am grateful, and more....”

She looked from Sorak to Ryana. “I do not know how Kether did what he has done, but for the bond that he has forged between us, I shall be forever grateful. Ryana, I fear that you received the worst part of the bargain, for I had nothing of significance to offer you. But for what you have given me . . .” She shook her head, words failing her. “I can only say, I thank you, and yet that does not seem sufficient.”

“It will do,” Ryana said with a smile. “But do not hold yourself so cheaply. What I received from you was of no small value. I know more of how the nobility lives and thinks now than I ever did before, and I also know what it means to discover a sense of purpose in life when one has been lacking before. I was born to mine, but you sought yours and found it, and had the courage to act on your beliefs, when to do so meant to forsake everything you knew. That took no small amount of courage.”

“Well. ..” said Korahna, visibly moved. “Coming from a villichi priestess, that is high praise, indeed.”

“A villichi, yes, for that is what I was born,” Ryana said. “But a priestess? That is a title I can no longer truly claim. I broke my vows.”

“I know,” Korahna said. “And I also know that causes you distress. But I will repeat your own words to you. To act on your beliefs, when it means forsaking everything you know, takes no small amount of courage.”

“If you two are done complimenting one another, perhaps we can go find some entertainment in this town,” Sorak suddenly said, and though it was his voice, its pitch had changed completely, and his entire manner had suddenly undergone a dramatic transformation. He stood with one hand on his hip, his head cocked slightly to one side, a look of bored impatience on his face.

“Kivara,” said Ryana.

Korahna merely stared at him, stunned at the sudden change. Her communion with Ryana gave her both a knowledge and an understanding of who Kivara was, but actually seeing her manifested still took her aback.

“This is not the time, Kivara,” said Ryana.

“I have grown weary of waiting for the proper time,” she replied, rolling her eyes and tossing her head in an irate manner. “I have not been out since we left Tyr. There was nothing of interest on the journey, but now that we have reached a city at long last, I deserve some time.”

“We have not come here to enjoy ourselves, Kivara,” said Ryana. “We must deliver Korahna safely to the Veiled Alliance and then find out what it is we have to do here.”

“So? I am not preventing you,” Kivara said. “But why does that mean we cannot enjoy some entertainment in the process?”

“We are preservers in a defiler city, Kivara,” said Ryana patiently, though her exasperation was beginning to show.

“And we have brought back the exiled princess. We are at some risk here.”

“Good,” Kivara said. “Then that may add a little spice to what has been a dreadfully dreary journey up ’til now.”

“Guardian ...” Ryana said.

“No!” said Kivara, stamping her foot angrily. Several people turned to stare at this rather curious behavior. “I have not been out in weeks! I am not going back under!”

“Kivara,” said the Guardian, though Korahna and Ryana could not hear her, “you are misbehaving. This is not what we agreed.”

“I agreed to cooperate; I did not agree to stay under all the time. I have as much right to come out as any of you!”

“Kivara, this is neither the time nor the place for this discussion. We shall talk about this later.”

“No! It is not fair! I never have any fun!”

“Kivara...”

“No, I said!”

Korahna watched, fascinated, as the apparently one-sided conversation took place before her. Sorak’s—or Kivara’s—features twisted into a grimace as she struggled against the will of the Guardian.

“No ... no ... no!”

The patrons in the tavern were all staring now. Sorak’s body trembled, and his head shook as his mouth twitched, and his hands, clenched into fists, pounded at his thighs. And then his body slumped slightly and relaxed, and a moment later, he straightened and was Sorak once again. The patrons in the tavern were mumbling among themselves.

“We had better leave at once,” said Sorak, quickly leading the way out of the tavern. The people stared after them as they went out into the street. Night had fallen, and the two women hurried to keep pace with Sorak’s long strides as he rushed away from the tavern. He stopped some distance away at the corner of a building, and leaned against it wearily.

“Sorak . . .” Ryana said with an expression of concern. “Are you all right?”

He merely nodded. “Forgive me,” he said.

“It was not your fault,” Ryana said. Korahna stood beside her, watching him and biting her lower lip. She did not know what to think.

Sorak took a deep breath and expelled it heavily. “She has not done anything like that in a long time. The Guardian never had trouble controlling her before. She seems to be growing stronger.”

“Can nothing be done?” Korahna asked.

Sorak simply shook his head. “Kivara is a part of who we are,” he said. “When I was a boy, with the help of the high mistress of the villichi temple, I was able to effect an agreement between the individuals of the tribe to cooperate with one another for the sake of all. The Guardian has always been the wisest of us, and she has always managed to keep the tribe in balance. Something like this has not happened for a long, long time.”

“Will you be able to keep things under control?” Ryana asked anxiously.

“I think so,” Sorak replied. “I am merely tired. It has been a long, hard journey, and my weariness allowed Kivara to slip through. I will be more on guard from now on.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “All right. Princess,” he said. “Lead on.”

Korahna led them through the dark and winding streets of Nibenay, away from the market district an toward the center of the city. As they drew closer to the palace compound in the inner city, the buildings became larger and more opulent. Almost every house they passed now had large, stone-columned entryways, intricately carved with figures. By now the servants had set torches into the outside sconces so that some light illuminated the streets. There were almost no people in the streets here, and those they passed hastened to the opposite side to avoid them.

“We must look a sight,” Ryana said as she noticed several people scurrying out of their way.

“The people are afraid of strangers in this part of the city,” Korahna explained. “The wealthier people live nearest to the palace, save for the powerful nobles who have estates just beyond the city walls. From time to time, desperate individuals come here in an attempt to rob a home or waylay some passing citizen. We must be on the watch for the half-giant patrols. They shall surely challenge us.”

“And if they do?” Ryana asked.

“Let us just say it is best they don’t,” Korahna replied. “Come, hurry. This way.”

They ran across the street and ducked down an alleyway. Moving quickly from alley to alley, hugging the building walls, they soon came to the sprawling palace compound. Rising up above all the other buildings was the palace itself, a huge edifice built entirely of intricately carved stone, and jutting from it, in the center, was a gigantic head.

Sorak and Ryana stopped to gaze in wonder at it. The side wings of the palace looked like shoulders, and the central upper stones like a neck. Sunken eyes with flames burning within them gazed out over the city. The huge brow was furrowed, and the jutting chin was proudly set.

The head was shaven, and the expression of the gigantic face was at the same time impassive and malevolent.

“By all that’s holy, who is that?” Ryana asked in a low voice.

“My father,” said Korahna.

“That is the Shadow King?” said Sorak.

Korahna nodded. “It took the city’s finest stone-masons decades to carve out his countenance from huge blocks of mortared stone. For most of them, it was their life’s work. They labored every day, from dawn to dusk, and then they were relieved at night by other stonemasons who continued the work by torch-light. It is said that many of them died in the task. Some fell from the scaffolding; others expired from sheer exhaustion. And while the stonemasons worked on the outside, teams of other artisans worked within, constructing the inner chambers from marble, alabaster, cinnabar, obsidian, and precious stones. And when they were finished, all were put to death.”

“Why?” said Ryana.

“So that none could ever speak of what lay within my father’s private chambers,” said Korahna. “At the completion of the work, Nibenay moved in, and no one has seen him since that day.”

“No one at all?” said Sorak.

“Only the senior templars who attend him,” said Korahna. She pointed toward the upper part of the face. “Each night, until dawn, the lights burn within those eyes, as if Nibenay were watching over the city that bears his name. There are some who say that he can see all transgressions and sends templars and half-giants to administer his law.”

“And you lived for all your life with that gazing over you?” Ryana said.

Korahna smiled. “When I was a little girl, I thought the stone face itself was my father. I used to stand beneath it in the palace courtyard and call out to it. But there was never any answer. Come, we must keep going. The patrols will be along soon.”

They hastened toward the opposite end of the city, past the palace compound and toward the area Korahna said was the elven quarter.

“There is a large population of elves in Nibenay?” asked Sorak with surprise.

“Half-elves, mostly,” said Korahna, “but among them are many full-blooded elves who have given up the nomadic, tribal life. It is said that more and more elves are gravitating to the cities these days. Life on the tablelands is hard, and the Great Ivory Plain, which lies to the south of the city, is as inhospitable as the barrens.

“Most of the elves in these parts used to live in the Crescent Forest and in the upper reaches of the Barrier Mountains, which we call the Nibenay Mountains here in the city. However, they have been largely driven out by the foresters and the hunters of Gulg. With the foresters cutting down the agafari trees and the hunters cleaning out what little game is left, the elves in the mountains have been left with almost nothing. A few tribes still dwell there, but they are mostly raiders, and their numbers dwindle with each passing year. No one knows how many elves live in the quarter, but their Population grows larger each year.”

“What do they do here in the city?” Sorak asked. “Work at what jobs they can,” Korahna replied.

“mostly jobs that humans will not take. Some steal, though the penalties are harsh if they are caught. Many of the elven women sell themselves. There is not much of a life for them here, but there is even less of a life for them outside the city.”

“They were a once proud people,” Sorak said, “and now they have fallen to this.”

The streets were darker in this part of town. Few torches burned outside the dilapidated buildings. The scant structures covered with decorative carvings were old and badly in need of repair. The rest were not much different from the ramshackle hovels in the warrens of Tyr. There were more people out on the streets here. As in Tyr, the authorities did not patrol in the poorest sections of the city. They did not much care what happened to the people here.

As they approached a tavern with two torches burning on either side of the entry, several elven prostitutes lounging against the building walls called out to Sorak and beckoned him, making provocative poses. Some were extremely explicit and graphically demonstrative of what they were offering for sale. Sorak and Ryana were both dismayed to see how young some of them were, scarcely more than children, debased by poverty and bigotry and lack of opportunity.

No one respected them, and so they did not respect themselves.

“This way,” said Korahna. “In here.”

They entered the tavern. A faded, painted sign on the wall outside identified the tavern as the Elven Blade. Sorak thought of his own elven blade and made certain it was well covered by his cloak.

Inside, the tavern was little more than a large, cavernous chamber with stone arches and an aging plank floor. People were seated on crude wooden benches at long tables. Most were drinking. A few were gambling with dice. On a small raised stage against one wall, a blind elf musician strummed an elf’s harp while two others accompanied him on flute and drum. A baby pterrax in a large cage snapped at food scraps thrown to it by patrons. Barefoot serving girls bore trays among the tables, periodically going back to the bar to refill their earthenware pitchers and fetch fresh bottles and ceramic goblets.

Most of the patrons were half-elves and elves, but they saw some human faces, as well. There would be no dwarves here, for elves and dwarves were not fond of one another, nor would there be any halflings. Halflings were feral, and no halfling would ever be found in a city, though Sorak thought the same could once have been said of elves, as well.

A few eyes turned to stare at them as they came in, but for the most part, no one looked directly at them. Directly meeting someone’s gaze in such a place could all too easily be taken as a challenge. Korahna glanced toward the bar at the back, then beckoned them to follow as she crossed the room, walking with purposeful strides.

As they passed among the tables, a bench suddenly came crashing down in front of Sorak. Its occupant leapt to his feet, knocking against him. “You lying piece of dung! I’ll cut your tongue out for that!”

The elf seated opposite him snarled and sprang up, launching himself across the table. Both of them crashed into Sorak, who was still trying to disentangle himself from the elf who had knocked into him—They all fell to the floor in a jumbled heap, the two elves shouting and screaming at each other.

Suddenly, Sorak felt expert fingers lifting his purse and realized the nature of the game. As several others pulled the two apart and off each other, Sorak got to his feet.

“All right, you two, out!” shouted the burly human tavern keeper, coming around from behind the bar with a large agafari club in his hands. “Settle it outside!”

“Just a moment,” Sorak said as the two elves turned to go.

“And what’s your interest in this?” the tavern keeper demanded, still holding the club ready.

Sorak pointed at one of the elves. “He has something of mine.”

“What?” the tavern keeper demanded.

“My purse,” said Sorak.

“He lies!” the elf protested. “I never touched his filthy purse—if he even had one when he came in here!”

“Your quarrel was merely an excuse to enable you to lift it,” Sorak said.

“You had best be careful of your accusations, friend,” the elf said menacingly while his companion, who moments earlier had seemed intent on killing him, now stood by to back him up. “This purse is mine,” the elf said, taking out his purse and shaking it. It rattled with a few ceramic coins. “My friend will testify to that, and so will the serving wench, who saw me pay her out of it. See, it is stitched with my name!”

“I did not mean that purse, ” Sorak said. “I meant the one you secreted in the pocket of your cloak.”

“You’re mad.”

“Am I?” Sorak said. “Then what do you suppose this is?”

His purse came floating up out of the hidden pocket in the pickpocket’s cloak and hovered in front of the thief’s face. For a moment, the elf simply gaped at it, then with a cry of fury, he batted it aside and snatched out his blade. As he lunged forward and brought the sword down in a wide, sweeping arc, Sorak smoothly drew Galdra from its scabbard and parried the blow in the same motion. The elf’s obsidian blade shattered in an explosion of thousands of tiny slivers.

The thief simply gaped in disbelief as Sorak brought the falchionlike point of Galdra to his throat. “My purse,” he said.

The thief glanced around behind him in panic, looking for support, only to see Ryana standing with her dagger at his confederate’s throat. The entire tavern had fallen completely silent. All eyes were upon them, and the slightest whisper would have carried through the room. The thief’s panic-stricken gaze returned to the blade held at his throat, and then he seemed to truly see it for the first time. He marked its unusual shape, the elven steel it was forged of, and the elvish runes inscribed upon the blade. His eyes grew very wide, and he gasped, looking up at Sorak as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Galdra!” he said, in a low voice. He dropped down to his knees and bowed his head. “Forgive me! I did not know!”

An excited murmuring broke out through the tavern. “Get up,” said Sorak. The thief sprang to obey. “Now retrieve my purse.”

“At once,” he said, scampering after it. He picked it up from where it had fallen and brought it to Sorak. “I am but a craven and unworthy thief, my lord. Do with me as you will, but I most humbly beg your pardon.”

“Be silent,” Sorak said. “You talk too much.”

“Yes, my lord, I do. Forgive me.”

“Get out of my sight,” said Sorak.

“Thank you, my lord, thank you,” the elf said, bowing deeply as he backed away. His companion followed with him, also bowing, staring at Sorak and Ryana fearfully. As they left, a number of others slipped out the door, as well.

“Serpent’s teeth!” the tavern keeper said. “What was all that about? Are you a nobleman?”

“No,” said Sorak. “He must have mistaken me for someone else.”

“You are not a nobleman, and yet you carry a blade of rare worth and manufacture. You have the aspect of an elf, yet you are not an elf. And you have the eyes and hair of a halfling. Who are you?”

“He is my friend,” Korahna said, approaching the tavern keeper.

“And who might you be?” said the tavern keeper.

Korahna stepped up close to him and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Look closely, Galavan. Do you not recognize me?”

The tavern keeper frowned and stared at her for a moment, then his eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. “Serpent’s teeth!” he whispered. “We thought you were dead!”

“We can discuss that later,” she said. “You know why I have come. These two are my friends, and I vouch for them with my life.”

“Your word is enough for me,” said Galavan. “Come, this way, to the back room.”

He led them around behind the bar and through a curtained archway. “Watch the place,” he said to one of his assistants, and then passed through.

It appeared to be no more than a storeroom with a small table, chair, and lantern. The walls were lined with wooden shelves containing spare goblets, pitchers, plateware, bottles, and other supplies. Galavan approached one of the shelves, reached inside and tripped a hidden switch. Then he swung the entire shelf away from the wall, revealing a dark passage.

“This way,” he said, picking up the lantern from the table and beckoning them inside. He handed the lantern to Korahna, and after they went in, he closed the hidden door behind them.

“Where does this lead?” Ryana asked the princess.

“You will see,” Korahna replied and started to descend the flight of stone steps that led down to a tunnel beneath the street. They walked through the tunnel for a while when they suddenly became aware of greater space around them.

The tunnel walls had ended, and they were in an open area, but it was underground.

“What is this place?” Ryana asked, unable to see much past the glow of the lantern.

“Ruins,” said Sorak, whose vision in the dark allowed him to see far more than she could. “Underground ruins. We are standing in some sort of .”

“Nibenay is built upon the ruins of another ancient city,” said Korahna, “dating back over a thousand years. Neither the templars nor my father know of it, but throughout the city, there are places where access to the ancient city can be found. The Elven Blade is one such place. Galavan is a secret ally of the Veiled Alliance.”

“So what happens now?” Ryana asked.

As if in reply, a score of torches suddenly blazed up all around them, illuminating robed and hooded figures standing in a large circle, surrounding them.

“Welcome home, Korahna,” one of them said. “We have been expecting you.”