Sanctuary

After traversing six houses beyond the ruined district, the fleeing pair reached the more solid roof of a four-story building. They rested in the latticework lean-to that shaded one corner. It enclosed a rooftop garden filled with kefre shrubs, cardamom plants, and foliage neither elf recognized.

“Did you hear what the soldier said? They’re arresting all elves in the city!” Hytanthas exclaimed. “What could’ve happened?”

“Perhaps Neraka or the minotaurs at last offered a price the Khan could not refuse.”

“The Speaker must be told!”

Planchet looked at his sooty, scratched hands. “If we survive he will be told.”

* * * * *

Eight streets away from the pair of elves, the priest Minok also was hiding, huddled below a darkened stairway, gulping hot, dry air. For two days the Khan’s men had been hunting him. He had escaped them originally, outside the palace, by the grace of his great god. A short distance from the Khuri yl Nor-far enough so his screams couldn’t be heard at the palace-four soldiers ran at him with swords drawn. A nomad by birth and no coward, Minok could hardly stand his ground without a weapon. Arms were forbidden to priests, and he strictly adhered to the precepts of his order. So he fled.

Unfortunately, the wily guards split up, with two circling wide through back alleys to cut him off. Minok had no chance to gain the safety of his temple. His heart sank when he saw the glint of naked iron blades coming up on either side. He ducked down a familiar side street and ran for the front door of a large house at the rear of the square.

Then Torghan interceded. before Minok reached the house, a powerful hand grabbed him by the back of his robe. Lifting him completely from his feet, it hauled him into a darkened outbuilding. He found himself thrust under a dusty brick staircase with nary a word spoken. He waited, sweating and shaking with fear, while soldiers tramped up and down the street outside, searching for him.

A skylight opened. The light that streamed down revealed Minok’s hiding place to be larger than he’d realized, and it illuminated a polished table at which sat Lord Hengriff. The servant who had opened the skylight retreated to the shadows.

“Come out,” said Hengriff. In the stillness his voice boomed like a drum, and Minok flinched.

Minok emerged, stood stiffly, and tried to brush the dust of the streets from his priestly robe.

“Thank you,” he said gravely. “I was sure I was done for out there.”

“You’re not done until I’m through with you. I’ve too much invested in you to let the Khan kill you out of pique.”

Hengriff did not ask the priest to sit down. Papers and open scrolls covered the tabletop. A fresh sheet of foolscap lay under Hengriff’s hand, with lines of black script neatly printed down half the page. Unlike most nomads, Minok could read, but Hengriff’s writing made little sense to him. It was some sort of cipher, written for his superiors, no doubt.

“The attack today went well,” Minok opined.

Hengriff’s black eyes narrowed. “It did not. I told you to seek out elves, not the soukats of the Fabazz. No one in Khuri-Khan will blame the elves for what happened today. They know your nomads are responsible!”

Minok spread his hands. “My people are poor wanderers of the desert. When they saw the riches of the Lesser Souk spread before them, they lost their heads.”

“You’ll lose yours if you bungle again!”

Minok promised he would not fail a second time.

“Too late for that,” Hengriff reminded him dryly. “Your assassins also failed to slay the Lioness outside the Temple of Elir-Sana.”

Cautiously, Minok said, “Permit me to ask, Excellency, why you don’t kill these laddad yourself. Why do you need the Sons of the Crimson Vulture to shed blood for you?”

“I’m trying to school a nation.” Minok’s look indicated he did not understand, so Hengriff added, “All your people, not just the followers of Torghan, need to learn how to deal with elves. If I kill them, it’s foreign intervention. If Khurs kill them, it’s a patriotic act.”

Minok bowed. “You are most wise, Excellency.” A sly expression crossed his narrow face. “It also discomfits the Khan, does it not?”

Hengriff made a fist. “There are lessons he must learn too.”

He rang a small brass bell, summoning the servant who waited just outside the shaft of sunlight. A few words to the servant and the fellow scurried away, returning moments later with two large men. Hengriff gave orders that the men, two of his personal bodyguards, escort Minok back to the Temple of Torghan. He warned the priest not to show his face for a while, to give Sahim-Khan time to forget he’d sought Minok’s death.

Minok did not thank him, only turned, head high, and started out. He and his protectors had gone only a few steps, when be staggered suddenly and clapped his hands over his ears.

“That ringing!” he cried. “Mercy, do you hear a great bell?”