Chapter 12

"That was incredible!" Nampag laughed as he made his way out of the baths side by side with Kaligmar. "Why have I never done that before?" He rubbed at his freshly trimmed beard, feeling the smooth bristles glide through his fingers. "Mmm, that masseur had the touch of an angel." He grinned broadly at the sight of Talloran who had been waiting for them on a bench nearby. "Well, look at you! Don't you look all neat and proper?"

Talloran stretched out his arms feeling like a whole new man. His skin felt soft and smelled of soapy suds, and his hair had been cut clean and short, allowing him to feel the gentle breeze graze over his scalp. He had scrubbed himself to point of bleeding, removing every last spec of dirt and dust from his skin. He wanted nothing left on his body that could possibly remind him of his time spent in the mines.

"I take it that Zaedra isn't finished yet," Kaligmar said after doing a quick search of the area.

"Trust that woman to take her time," Nampag said. "I don't want to rush her anyway. She deserves it."

Several minutes later Zaedra emerged from the bathhouse looking more luxuriant than ever. More importantly she looked relaxed, and she moved into Nampag's arms, resting her head against his chest.

Nampag sighed as he pressed his nose against her head and inhaled the fruity scent of her copper hair which had been newly styled into an extravagant knot. "Did you enjoy that?" he asked her.

"Mmmwonderful," she replied. "I want more!" She pushed herself away and looked over at Kaligmar. "And you'll never guess what I found in there," she said to him.

"Oh?" Kaligmar said.

"Of all the people in the world to share a bath with, it had to be Gandling's daughter," she said with a grin. "And she's agreed to take us to his tavern. She should be out any moment." While they waiting patiently for Furiel to come out from the baths, she moved over to Talloran and said to him quietly, "Remember how I said I'd keep an eye out for some girls for you? Well you better watch out for this one, Tal. This girl isn't just an eyeful, she looks like quite a handful as well, literally."

Only once had Furiel stepped out from the baths and Talloran had gotten a good look at her buxom figure did he realize what Zaedra had actually meant. His jaw dropped at the sight of her. She was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. She was a little shorter than Zaedra and not as hard-bodied, but everything about her spoke of dangerous curves.

"This is Furiel," Zaedra said, introducing her to everyone. "Furiel, meet Kaligmar, Nampag and Talloran."

"Hello," Furiel said and performed a smart curtsey. "It's nice to meet you all." She caught Talloran staring at her out of the corner of her eye and tried to suppress a smile. He was obviously the Calystonian that Zaedra had mentioned inside the baths.

"This is news to me," Kaligmar said. "I wasn't aware that Gandling had a daughter, and quite a beautiful one at that."

"Then obviously you don't know my father as well as you think you do," Furiel said curtly. With her hands clasped submissively behind her back, she rocked backwards and forwards on her heels. "Well?" she said. "Shall we?"

"Of course," Kaligmar said, extending an arm politely. "Please, lead the way."

Warm light shone from the crack at the base of the door to the Rusty Bucket, highlighted by the laughter and merriment of those whom had had one too many drinks inside. The bouncer stood alert with his massive arms crossed against his chest. He was tall, bald and unintelligent to the unknowing eye. But those who knew him well held him in high regards. The man had lightning reflexes and fists that held a law of their own, ready to judge any who dared to cause him trouble.

Kaligmar and his companions approached the door in an awkward fashion, and not much to their surprise, the bouncer moved to block their path.

"State your business," he said in a deep voice.

"They're with me," Furiel said, pushing through. "Open the door, Hibbo."

The bouncer nodded obediently and stepped aside, allowing entry to the company. The familiar smell of aged mahogany greeted them like an ocean breeze as they stood by the door and took in the atmosphere of the tavern. Dull lamps hung from the worn, smoke-stained walls and ceiling, casting a gentle moonlike glow over the bar and seating area where several armored guards sat quarreling over a deck of playing cards.

"Hey, hey, look who's here!"

Upon seeing Furiel enter the tavern, a group of half-drunken men seated in the booths along the back wall cheered with excitement and clashed their mugs of ale together.

"Hoy, Furiel!" one of them called out. "Do y'think you can give us all another one of them dances tonight?"

"Maybe," she said loudly across the room. "If you buy a few more drinks I might consider it."

Laughing amongst themselves, the patrons went back to their conversation. Furiel showed Kaligmar and the others to a table in the corner.

"Just take a seat while I'll get Father," she said. Performing another curtsey, she disappeared into the kitchen out back. Moments later they heard the crashing of pots of pans and a gruff voice cursing out loudly.

"WHAT?"

The door swung open and a large round man stood glaring at them in bewilderment in the doorway. A thick, black moustache covered the man's upper lip and curled downwards at both ends. A black apron attempted to hide his considerable gut. Putting his hands to his hips, he studied Kaligmar up and down with a grin from ear to ear.

"Well just look at you," he said. "More wrinkles than I remember, eh, Kaligmar?"

Kaligmar was not one to give warm greetings. "Enough, Gandling. You owe me a favor and I'm here to claim it."

Gandling looked hurt. "Oh, is that all? Not even a hug for an old friend? Not even a simple hello?"

"I haven't the patience. There is much that we need to discuss. It is of high importance."

Gandling looked at Talloran, Zaedra and Nampag each in turn. "High importance, you say? I don't think I'm going to like what you're about to say." Pulling up a chair, he seated himself at the table and drew himself close. He made a careful sweep of the tavern with his eyes to make sure that no one was listening in. "If it's mancer business you're talking about," he whispered, "then you know I hate risking my neck for that stuff."

"A deal is a deal, Gandling. Don't try and wriggle yourself out of it."

The tavern-keeper leaned back in his chair and tweaked one end of his moustache. "Very well, Kaligmar. You have me on a tight leash." He went quiet as a tavern-maid came along with two bottles of wine and five glasses and placed them on the table.

"Courtesy of your daughter," the tavern-maid said and moved away to tend to another table.

Gandling took one glance at the bottle and frowned. "Just wait one second," he said angrily. "This is one from my private reserve! Furiel shouldn't be ... hey! Just what do you think doing?"

Kaligmar had already poured himself a glass and had the rim under his nose, inhaling the wine's scent. "I'm trying out your private reserve," he said coyly. "Go on, everyone, help yourself."

Zaedra laughed and reached for the bottle, pouring everyone their fair share.

"I'm making you pay for that," Gandling said threateningly.

Kaligmar decided to get right to the point. "The Ceruleans are after us."

"What?" Gandling went silent, all thoughts of the wine quickly forgotten. "Why?"

"Take no offence to this, but I'm afraid that I cannot reveal that kind of information to you at this point in time. Such knowledge is for the Indigos only. All I can say is that we've gotten ourselves tangled up in a rather interesting situation."

Kaligmar now had Gandling's full attention. If the Indigos were known to be involved in anything, then one could be sure that it was serious business.

"So why come here?" Gandling asked.

"We came for the same reason that you came to Grabvine in your day: Refuge."

Gandling leaned forward across the table and lowered his voice. "Are you certain that you weren't followed? The Ceruleans don't often put one foot near Grabvine, but if you've brought those maniacs to our front door, who knows what the factions would do!"

"All we need is a place to stay until we can arrange an escort with the Indigos. Can you offer us something like that. Do this and your debt will have been repaid."

Gandling thought about it for a moment. "We have a few spare rooms upstairs. I'm sure we can squeeze you in. I'd have to get my daughter to sleep in my room, but I'm not sure how she'll react to that."

Kaligmar held out his hand. "So we have a deal then?"

Gandling reluctantly reached out and shook it firmly. "Alright," he said. "But first you have to tell me who all these young and attractive companions of yours are."

Introductions went all round and it wasn't long until Gandling could remember all their names.

"I heard you mention that you were a mancer," Zaedra said. "Which guild were you part of? The Azures or the Indigos?"

"Neither," Gandling replied.

"What do you mean by neither? Who else is there?"

"Gandling was once a Cerulean." Kaligmar explained. "He was with them before the corruption."

"That's right," Gandling smiled. "I was there when it all began."

Zaedra's mouth fell open in amazement. "Really? I thought the Ceruleans had hunted down and killed every last mancer that abandoned them!"

"All but me. I had known what was coming and was prepared. I got out while I still could."

"I've never heard the story first-hand," Zaedra said excitedly. "I want to know the real version. What lead to the Great Madness?"

"Okay, okay. Let's see." Gandling paused as he tried to recall the faint memories. "Hmm, where to begin? Ah, yes. It all started at Bashalaran when the Ceruleans discovered how to manipulate the forbidden elements almost ten years ago. Alteration was our first discovery, unlocked by someone called Mezro if I can recall.

"Mezro was a respectable fellow in his day, handsome, dignified, generous ... but when he discovered the art of manipulation, something within him changed. Nobody noticed it at first. Mezro had become so engrossed in his work, that he was going days without sleep. Every time I tried to council him he just lashed out at me like an animal. He was no longer the same person, and it takes a lot to change someone like that.

"As his knowledge of alteration progressed, he moved further on from just turning apples into oranges and began experimenting with live human bodies, twisting and mutilating them."

"What?" exclaimed Nampag. "Mezro experimented upon fellow mancers?"

"No, no. He used slaves at first, but rumor has it that he did something horrific to a certain mancer at Bashalaran that he didn't fancy too much. His name was Kallak, and one day, he just vanished. Most thought he had just moved away, but I was one to think otherwise. I did a bit of searching around and found some evidence that Kallak had once been in Mezro's chambers. But that's as far as it got. In the end I could never prove anything. Mezro and his followers had grown quite powerful by this time, and they had grown to be just as malevolent. I figured that anything was possible."

"Tell us about the pyromancers." Nampag asked. "They're the group that I don't completely understand. What exactly happened to them? Why are they no longer part of the Cerulean faction?"

Gandling cleared his throat with a sip of wine. "Thorgal was the first to unlock the art of the flame. I remember his words when he had found out how to attune himself to the red stones. He said that it had felt good, too good in fact. Those who followed him developed this ... addiction, well more like this insatiable lust for the power of the arcane elements. They couldn't get enough of it. Thorgal himself went insane through his addiction and took delight in burning everything and everyone he saw.

"One day he simply set all of Bashalaran on fire and chaos ensued. Ossyrian was forced to banish him and his followers from the citadel because they had become too reckless and violent for their own good. But what's more is that the pyromancers seemed to have developed a different view on the fabled alpha element, almost like a different religion. That's probably why they were never reaccepted back into the Cerulean Kindred."

"What about necromancy," Talloran, still unable to get his encounter with Neriah off his mind.

"Ah, now necromancy is another story. The grand master of the Ceruleans, Ossyrian, was the first to discover how to unlock that ugly black element. But the strange thing was that he didn't tell anyone about it. Instead, he approached specific individuals who had shown potential with their studies of the regular elements and gave them highly exclusive invitations to join him and his research. Because of this privacy, I found it difficult to learn much about the ways of the necromancers without drawing attention to myself.

"After about one year, the corruption had spread throughout the entire citadel and every member was engrossed with at least one of the forbidden elements save for me and a handful of other consars. We knew what it was doing to them, and no matter how much they tried to coerce us into joining their studies, we continually refused. Soon it had become so serious that I sent a message of distress to the Indigos calling for aid, but by the time they had gotten to the citadel, every Cerulean had been afflicted with too much of the corruption. They were all completely insane.

"Then came the day of the Great Madness. Ossyrian announced to the Indigos that his mind had been awakened through the exploration of necromancy, and that a vision had come to him of an alpha element that had the power to hold the world at its mercy. He then asked the Indigos to join him in his search for this element, and when the Indigos refused his invitation on the account that he was completely delusional, he declared the Indigos to be heretics. He then further accused them of withholding information of its possible whereabouts and demanded that they were told. When the Azure and Indigos continued to defend themselves, the Ceruleans declared war upon all of Dorimear."

"So I'm assuming that you left the citadel after Ossyrian declared war?"

"No, I left a few days before the Great Madness. I had been married to a beautiful wife, she was a brilliant illusionist if I may say, and together we had our only child, Furiel, which it looks like you have already met. Not long before Ossyrian declared war against the Indigos, I learned that he had taken my wife on as a necromancer apprentice without my knowledge and that she was becoming influenced by the corruption. I tried to make her stay away from Ossyrian, but to put things simply, she was no longer the same person that I had married and there was no turning her back. When I learned that Ossyrian was planning things for our daughter, I knew that I had no other choice but to flee Bashalaran so I could raise her like a proper child in safety."

"I'm ... I'm so sorry." Zaedra said sadly. "What was her name? Your wife."

Gandling sighed. "Ah. It was so long ago. Neriah was her name." Nampag choked on his wine, spraying it across the table, but Gandling was too lost in his own head to notice. "She had unparalleled beauty," Gandling continued. "She was like a fallen angel that never seemed to age. If you saw them now, side by side, you'd see that Furiel is every bit as well-endowed as her mother was, if not more. I can't help but see Neriah's face every time I look at her. She has her mother's eyes."

No wonder Furiel had looked so familiar when they met at the baths, Zaedra thought. But one thing was for certain now: if Neriah was Gandling's husband, then she definitely didn't look her age!

"Are you talking about mother again?" Furiel said as she circled back to their table. She gave Talloran a warm smile as she reached in front of him to collect an empty bottle of wine.

"I was just mentioning how your mother is responsible for every bit of your loveliness," Gandling said proudly.

Furiel strutted off towards the kitchen with her tray of empty glasses in hand. She paused at the door and looked back to see whether Talloran was watching her. A smile on her lips confirmed it, then she was gone. Gandling pushed back his chair from the table and stretched out his gut, fumbling with his apron.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have some turtle soup on the boil In the kitchen and some sweet potato bread that is in need of attendance. I will speak with you all later."

Once Gandling had disappeared out the back, Zaedra slapped her hand down hard on the table and started giggling. "Damn, Tal! That girl had her eyes set right on you! And you couldn't keep your eyes off her either!"

"What?" Talloran objected, blushing bright red. "She barely looked at me."

Zaedra leaned forward and lowered her voice for only them to hear. "I saw the signs. That girl is looking for action and she's found it." Leaning back in her chair, she folded her legs and took a sip from her wine. "Come on, Nampag. You agree with me, right?"

"She's right," Nampag confessed. "Unless my eyes were deceiving me, Furiel seems to have taken an interest in you, Talloran. You should go talk to her sometime."

"She told me at the baths that she likes Calystonian muscle," Zaedra added. "You're in luck."

Kaligmar gave a rather forced cough. He wasn't going to put up with these antics any longer. "Must I remind you all of what's really at stake here? We don't need any distractions that could put us off our guard."

Zaedra sighed in protest. "Oh, give him a break, Kaligmar. In fact, why don't you give us all a break? We could all use a bit of fun to lift our spirits. Talloran's a free man now. This is a time for him to celebrate." She placed her hand on Talloran's shoulder and gave him a shrewd smile. "No offence, Tal, but I think you could use some quality time with a girl, even if it's only for one night."

Talloran half-choked on her words, half surprised and half amused. "What? You don't really mean..." Zaedra gave him a serious nod and Nampag laughed out loud.

Kaligmar glared across the table at her. "Zaedra, this is very inappropriate! As a master of the Azures Momastery I demand that this childish nonsense ceases at once! We must focus our attention upon the Chameleon."

Zaedra leered back at him. "What monastery, Kaligmar? Last time I checked it had been torched to the ground along with your authority."

Kaligmar went silent. "Very well," he said softly. "Perhaps we can discuss this later when everyone is feeling a bit more civilized." Pushing out his chair, he excluded himself from the table and made his way over to the bar.

"I bet that felt good to get off your chest," Talloran said.

"Oh, I've been having too much wine," Zaedra admitted and pushed aside her glass. "That wasn't like me. I normally keep everything bottled up inside me. Who knows what I could've said if I had been drinking a little more. But wine or no wine, I was serious about Furiel, Talloran. See what you can get out of her. She looks like a lot of fun."

Talloran looked down at his hands nervously. "You ... ah ... you honestly think I have a shot at her?"

"Absolutely." Zaedra grinned.

"But I'm a slave."

"Oh, come out of your shell, Tal. You ... us ... we're not anything anymore. You're no longer a slave, we're no longer consars. Furiel will never know that you were once a slave unless you tell her. To her, you're just another of those handsome men walking the streets of Grabvine."

"Handsome?!" Nampag exclaimed.

"A girl is entitled to think whatever she wants to think, Nampag. Don't be jealous."

Nampag laughed. "I'm not jealous!"

Zaedra rolled her eyes at him. "Now," she said, turning back to Talloran and giving him a hard stare. "I want you to listen carefully. While I was at the baths I had the exquisite pleasure of seeing what that girl looks like in the flesh, so you have to trust me when I say this: if you manage to get hold of her, she will be well worth the effort!"

Turning his head slightly, Talloran watched Furiel tend to her customers out of the corner of his eye. It had been a long time for him. He couldn't remember the last time he had spent time with a woman, and the raven-haired girl across the room looked simply divine.

In exchange for a free meal and wine, a band of wandering performers had filled the tavern with music and customers later that evening. After much persuasion, Furiel had eventually succumbed to the pleas of the patrons and was dancing on stage before the band with a vast number of male spectators cheering her on. She had changed into suitable clothing for the occasion, replacing the green dress for a light blue blouse and a brown skirt that hung just above her knees, giving her the flexibility she needed for the dance.

With her hands pressing down the front of her skirt, Furiel began to move her torso side to side with snake-like movements and bent her legs, easing her body up and down. The entire crowd was captivated by the grace of her stunning performance, cheering her on and guzzling down beer after beer. Taking the dance up one notch, she put on a sultry look and pulled down the sides of her blouse to further expose her shoulders and neckline, much to the delight of her male onlookers who went wild over the movement. Furiel then began to gyrate sexily, her hands sweeping over the slopes of her breasts before sliding down to her belly, allowing her hips to move in wide circles all the while. Her soft stomach glistened from perspiration as she continued on with her routine.