Sanctuary

The stone walls jealously hoarded every sound inside them. As Shobbat entered his private quarters, again he heard a soft rustling sound, as of padded feet. Turning quickly, he saw them. Haifa dozen monstrosities, like the ones the Oracle of the Tree had shown him, lurked in the shadows along the far wall of his sitting room. Animals with human heads, and humans with animal heads.

Terror ran its icy fingers through his gut, but he refused to give in to his fear. The creatures weren’t real, they were only hallucinations, a product of his weariness and the ache in his head. He’d had a very trying day. He closed his eyes tight, then opened them.

It worked. The monstrosities were gone.

He laughed in relief. In answer, six inhuman voices chuckled and growled.

* * * * *

The elves who’d chosen to follow the Lioness returned to Khurinost somber and chastened. Their leader was gone, and shortly after she rode away to give herself to the nomads, Sahim-Khan’s warriors fell on the unsuspecting tribes like a thunderbolt. The elven warriors had accomplished little this day. The nomads were in headlong flight for the safety of the deep desert. The body of Lady Kerianseray had not been found. None knew whether she was dead or alive.

The Speaker of the Sun and Stars awaited the return of his prodigal warriors in a small pavilion pitched just outside the northern edge of Khurinost. With him were Planchet and Hamaramis. He leaned on a cane crafted from a spear shaft. Decorating the front of its wooden handle was a square-cut amethyst, the gift he’d received from the old gemcutter weeks before.

Hytanthas Ambrodel was among the returning riders. The young Qualinesti broke ranks and approached. He dismounted before the Speaker.

“Captain Ambrodel. What word do you bring me?”

“A sad one, Great Speaker. There is still no sign of Lady Kerianseray.”

Gilthas had feared as much. He’d ordered the Lake of Dreams searched for any trace of his consort. The captain had led the search himself.

The Speaker sent him back to the returning riders. Hamaramis cleared his throat. “Great Speaker, what of the warriors who mutinied? They disobeyed their commanders and followed Lady Kerianseray against your orders. They must be punished.”

From their faces, Gilthas thought they’d been punished already. The old general obviously did not. “Discipline must be maintained, sire,” Hamaramis added.

“Punish over half the army? What would that do to morale?” Gilthas said gloomily.

Planchet intervened. “Certain zealots can be singled out, Great Speaker.”

After a pause, Gilthas nodded. “Don’t treat them too harshly,” he said. “Their loss is my loss.”

He swayed a little, despite his cane. Smoothly, Planchet eased a stool behind him and he sat. The valet hid his own worry, but he’d begun to wonder whether the Speaker would ever be whole again. The Khurish priestesses had cured him, yet he was still so weak, the silver in his hair more pronounced. Gilthas was not much older than Captain Ambrodel, but he seemed a generation removed.

“Sahim-Khan has done us a great service today,” the valet suggested. The nomads had been repulsed without the loss of elven life-save one, perhaps.

“I wonder how much he’ll charge us for the service,” Hamaramis muttered sourly.

Gilthas gazed over the dunes that filled the landscape around the tent city. The tan hills seemed to him the body of a vast sleeping giant, lying on its side.

“Sahim will not get another copper from us. This incident proves the time has come for us to go.” Hands cupped over the head of his cane, Gilthas looked up at his loyal friends, first Hamaramis, then Planchet. “To Inath-Wakenti, the Valley of the Blue Sands.”

“Is the place hospitable?” asked Planchet. “What of the dangers Lady Kerianseray mentioned?”

“We have many scholars and sages among us. They will unravel the mysteries. Besides—” Gilthas frowned. “There are dangers here too, and they will grow greater if we stay.”

The nomads had been driven back, but only temporarily. They would recover and return, using the desert as a shield against Sahim’s powerful but ponderous army. Plots in the city would continue so long as the Sons of the Crimson Vulture agitated against the elves. The rogue sorcerer Faeterus was still at large. Compared to these pressing ills, how terrible could Inath-Wakenti be?

Gilthas saw his retinue watching him, and he knew their troubled thoughts. He, too, sometimes wondered whether he had become obsessed with a spot on an old map. Was it sanctuary or delusion? The only way to know the truth was to go there.