Chapter 8: Sorcerer's Lair

Faint through the gathering darkness, voices were calling their names.

"Ashaia! Shantar!" The voices came nearer. "Where are you? It is time to leave for Talai."

He started to rise, but her arms pulled him back down. Their lips met in a long, fervent kiss.

"Now, you can get up," she purred roguishly.

He laughed with her as he helped her to her feet, and they hurried to meet their friends. "You don't seem much like a Royal Princess right now," he teased.

"Tomorrow, I'll be a princess again," she answered gaily. "Tonight, I'm just a woman."

"Then we've had tonight!" He laughed with sheer delight, hugging her to him. "Who knows, we may not live to see tomorrow!"

Chinzel was waiting impatiently outside of the temple, and once more Shantar could smell the sweetly heady scent of the temple lamps. "Hurry, put on your warmest clothes," the little thief told them. "You have a long, cold night ahead of you. But at least we'll be able to take our ponies with us. I hadn't thought that we could, but Chief Horgun says that there will be room for them after all."

"And just how would we travel if we left our ponies behind," Gortai asked irritably, looking up from where he was bidding a fond farewell to a village maiden. "Is the Goddess Astur going to fly us through the skies?"

"Something like that. Wait, you will see," Chinzel answered with a sly smirk. "Now, let us go."

Warmly bundled, they rode their ponies down a narrow trail. The clouds had closed in again, and a gentle mist brushed ghostly tendrils across their faces. Ahead and behind, villagers marched carrying torches, the leaping flames casting shadows that danced among the towering trees. Their ponies splashed through shallow pools, halting at the edge of a broad expanse of dark water whose farther edge was only dimly visible by the light of the torches. A group of men walked toward them along the bank, pulling behind them through the water the strangest looking craft that any of them had ever seen.

"What in the world is that?" Shantar's exclamation was echoed by his companions.

"Our means of reaching Talai," Chinzel answered, smugly. "With Astur's help, we can reach the city's harbor well before dawn, and even if we are seen, it won't be reported."

Shantar shook his head doubtfully, but said nothing. The craft that Chinzel was so proud of was nothing but a shallow bowl of well oiled hides, stretched over a framework of bent poles. It looked like nothing more than a out sized sea shell as it bobbed along the surface of the still water. As it drew closer, he could see that its floor had been strengthened to take the weight of their ponies, but he could see nothing that would make it move.

"When the ponies are on board, they must be made to lie down. They will be hobbled, so that they cannot thrash around if they become frightened, or if you run into rough water," Chief Horgun told them. "It will only be for a short time."

Ch'Wing and Ch'Dan looked toward him as though for guidance, but Shantar just shrugged as he led his pony up the temporary ramp. The rest of the ponies, seeing one of their number precede them, were easily led into the craft.

"Now, take care that the ponies do not panic," Chief Horgun warned. "I am going to call Astur's sea steeds."

Kneeling at the edge of the still lagoon, he picked up a pair of smooth stones. His hands moved, and Shantar realized that he was tapping the stones together under the water in a steady rhythm. For what seemed a long time, nothing happened, then Shantar felt the boat lift and drop as the torchlight reflected back from a series of waves.

"Come, oh swift steeds of Astur!" The chief's voice was a deep croon. "Oh steeds of the sea, come to the call of the Children of Astur."

The boat rocked again, more strongly, and they could hear a muffled splashing. It drew nearer in time with the soft chanting of the villagers who now lined the shore of the lagoon. From out of the darkness, two towering shadows loomed high above them, and they heard the sound of deep, slow breathing. Two massive heads, with huge forward looking eyes and fanged teeth, bent down at the end of serpentine necks. Shantar's sharp eyes made out great bulky bodies that slid easily through the water, propelled by broad flippers.

"Come now, my babies," Horgun crooned softly, and the two horse like heads dipped lower to sniff at the tiny figure standing so confidently at the edge of the water. He held up two loops, broad straps of leather, and two heads dipped still lower to slip through them. The slender necks straightened, and the great sea beasts churned the water with gentle strength as they swung about and headed for the open sea. The frail shell of their craft rocked and danced as the thongs drew tight, pulling them away from the shore.

Beside him, Ashaia's face was a pale blur in the moonlight, and the hand that touched his sleeve trembled as though with a chill.

"What an adventure," she breathed in his ear, a catch in her voice.

"One to tell grand children about over the campfires, if we live through it." He chuckled, the spark of danger and her nearness making his blood race and tingle in his veins. The sea steeds were threading their way through a maze of swampy islands, the salt smell of the sea growing ever stronger. Ahead of them, the surf muttered and boomed in the distance. Their shell was moving faster, lifting to meet the waves. Salt spray sheeted past, the shell dancing on the breakers, and they were out on the open sea! The nameless villager who stood braced in the bow gave a croaking cry and they swung to the left, quartering into the long swells and picking up more speed. The waves smoothed out as they drew away from the shore, and they dipped and rose, dipped and rose again, racing across the surface of the water.

"Is this not even better than flying?" Chinzel called the question to them from across the shell, his voice faintly mocking.

"By whatever Gods there may be, this is a trip that I would not have missed," Shantar called back, just as softly. "How long until we reach Talai?"

"We should be there well before dawn. The sea is calm, and there is no wind to hinder us. Now, we must be still. The sea steeds do not like loud noise and talking."

The clouds lightened as they drew away from the shore, and soon the overcast thinned to a tattered veil that let the stars peer through at the strange sight below them. The shell swung around until it was traveling almost parallel to the crests of the waves, rising and falling as it skimmed along, seeming to touch only the tops of the swells.

"Haaiaah!" At their helmsman's shout, the shell swerved wildly, slowing almost to a stop.

"What's wrong?" Shantar clasped Ashaia to him protectively.

"I don't... Yes, look there!" Chinzel pointed out to sea. They saw nothing at first. It was Gortai who spotted them, a row of slender, upright necks, topped by horse like heads. The sea beasts swept toward them, swinging around so that their tiny craft was surrounded by the great creatures. One of them, much larger than the rest, faced their two sea steeds. A series of musical notes, like the call of distant trumpets, came from its throat, ending on a rising, questioning trill. One of the sea steeds answered, its trumpeting higher pitched. Satisfied, the herd leader backed water and surged away, leading his band back out to sea.

"It's all right," Chinzel told them. "It happens quite often. The wild ones can't understand why our sea steeds won't join them in their play, like they do when they aren't pulling a boat."

The Great Moon had long since passed the zenith. It was settling toward the horizon when they turned and headed for the shore. They swept in under the coastal overcast, overtaking the long ocean swells. The waves were breaking around them as they passed between the headlands, but once inside Talai's harbor the water was calm. They drifted up to a deserted stretch of beach, grounding gently on the coarse sand. The ponies scrambled ashore, blowing and prancing in their relief at being on solid ground and free of their hobbles. With a wave of his arm, their helmsman headed his sea steeds back toward the open sea, heading for the safety of his beloved swamps.

"Now, how do we get into Talai itself without running into the watch," Shantar asked.

"There are several ways that it might be done," Chinzel answered, studying the matter anew. "They probably won't be looking for us to come from this direction, at least not yet, but there's no use taking chances. No point in splitting up, either. They're more apt to suspect a smaller group than a larger... That's it! We'll go as a rich tradesman and his escort. Follow me, I know where to get the things we need."

He led them boldly up to the front door of a large country estate that stood among extensive, if somewhat unkempt grounds.

"It belongs to the guild," he explained in response to Shantar's lifted eyebrow. "When things get too hot for some of the Brotherhood, we move them out here for a while, let them work on the grounds, and things like that. It's been quiet for a while; that's why the shrubbery looks a little ragged in spots."

They were met at the gate house by a bent figure with straggling gray hair, his missing fingers testifying to his ineptitude as a pickpocket. Chinzel explained what was needed, and in an amazingly short time they were riding toward the city gates, ostensibly just another wealthy citizen and his armed guards. Chinzel rode at his ease in a sedan chair carried by a quartet of burly knaves, the very picture of a foppish young buck returning from an all night carouse outside the city walls.

The sun was well up by the time they reached Talai's outer wall, and the guards passed them in without a second glance. All of the city's colors glowed with an extra measure of brightness in the clear morning light, and it was still cool enough so that the full strength of the city's multitude of odors was not yet apparent. Farmers with wagons of fruit and vegetables wended their way from door to door, hawking their wares in shrill voices. A few beggars scurried out of their way as they trotted along, but few were abroad this early. The streets were only beginning to fill with the teeming masses who would make such a colorful sight later in the day.

"This is as far as I can take you," Chinzel told them as his sedan chair halted outside an opulent town house. "The establishment of Nurm the Trader is on the Street of Merchants, the fourth turning to the right from this one. You'll know the street, it's the only one marked with red banners."

"I know where it is," Ashaia answered. I thank you again for what you have done to aid us. Without your aid, we might never have made it. Certainly, not so swiftly."

"You are most welcome, Your Highness." His manner was suddenly formal. It was as though he fully realized for the first time that this was real, and that she was indeed the Princess Ashaia. "I shall be fully rewarded if you do not tell how you came here, and what you saw in the village in the swamps."

When they turned their ponies into the Street of Merchants, Shantar suddenly pulled his pony to a halt.

"What's wrong?" Gortai's hand dropped to the sword at his belt as he tried vainly to see by the others.

"Maybe nothing." Shantar studied the scene, trying to pick out whatever it was that had alerted his sense of danger. The street was fairly crowded with the normal assortment of men, brightly clad in the colors of their different guilds. Folding stalls lined the blank walls of buildings, filling the spaces between gates that gave access to interior courtyards. "I don't know what's up, but keep close together. Ashaia, which place is Nurm's?"

"That one." She pointed out a massively walled building whose broad double doors were set several feet above the level of the street. Wide marble steps led up to a landing where a pair of brawny guards stood leaning on their spears.

The crowd drifted and swirled lazily back and forth along the cobbled street. Vendors of trinkets and sweets cried their wares, and the whining beggars' pleas of "Alms, alms for the love of Ipsnadd!" cut through the muffled drone of the city. To Shantar's wilderness trained eyes and ears a false note jarred. He drummed his booted heels against his pony's ribs, and the sturdy mountain pony pushed its way through the crowd. As they neared the imposing building that was their goal, he at last realized what was missing. No beggars exposed their running sores, crying for alms. The men who filled the narrow street to overflowing were silent except for an occasional whispered word. Shantar tensed as he heard what that word was.

"Sorcerer!" The man made a 'V' of his pudgy fingers, spitting through it toward the polished marble steps.