Sanctuary

Sahim leaned forward, his expression one of concern. “Traders in the Souks are shrewd, but many live on the knife-edge of ruin. A day’s wages lost in bad coinage can mean starvation for their families. I am told that word of the false coins reached the Sons of the Crimson Vulture, and they sought to make the offending elves pay in genuine metal.” He leaned back again, spreading his hands expansively. “Alas! They could not tell the guilty from the innocent, and waylaid all elves they found. But be assured, Great Speaker, the matter is resolved. The offenders will pay with their heads.”

He announced this with the same casual air another man might adopt when promising a simple favor. The Speaker’s entourage wore grim expressions. Sahim, while vowing to punish the rioters, plainly blamed the elves for the trouble and was daring the Speaker to contradict him.

A faint smile crossed Gilthas’s lips. “The Mighty Khan’s justice be done,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “Might I make an offer, in the interest of good relations between our peoples?” Grandly, the Khan waved for him to continue. “Let me repay those vendors who lost money, and the families of the men who face your judgment. This I will do out of my own treasury.”

The humans filling the edges of the hall shifted, murmuring among themselves. They had not expected this.

Sahim-Khan, on the other hand, could not stop the grin that split his face. He beamed, saying the Speaker’s generosity would not be wasted.

Polite robbery! thought Hytanthas. From his place with the honor guard, he seethed at the injustice of the gesture that the Speaker should pay for a riot not of the elves’ making. Sahim was stealing just as surely as if he held the Speaker at the point of a knife and demanded his purse! And Hytanthas had no doubt every steel piece of the so-called indemnity would end in the Khan’s pockets.

To distract himself from his anger, Hytanthas let his gaze wander. The honor guard was divided into two lines, each facing inward toward the Speaker. Hytanthas was on the Speaker’s right, looking toward the Khurs on Sahim’s right, those crowded along the north wall of the hall.

As he scanned the Khurs, he hoped to see the rag-draped man among them, but be did not. He did spot Lord Hengriff. Although draped in civilian dress, the Nerakan was unmistakable. Standing behind him were four more large humans. Like him they were clean-shaven and dressed in civilian finery. Hytanthas had no trouble recognizing them for what they were—the Knight’s personal bodyguard and most probably the same men who had tried to take Hytanthas and Planchet at the Temple of Elir-Sana last night.

Hamaramis suddenly barked an order. The honor guard made a quarter-turn, facing away from the throne. The Speaker bowed slightly as the Khan slipped away. His audience was over.

The elves went out with proud dignity, but every heart burned with shame, and every jaw was clenched tight. Only the Speaker appeared calm. He spoke a few words to his valet. Planchet’s angry color lessened. He nodded obediently, and drifted away from the Speaker’s side.

Outside, musicians, courtiers, and standard bearers began to form up again. Hytanthas took his place at the rear of the honor guard, but was pulled aside.

Planchet pushed a Khurish robe at him and hissed, “Shed your armor, and don this. You’re staying in the city.”

The captain knew why: to look for Faeterus. Unbuckling his breastplate under cover of his milling countrymen, he whispered, “What do I do if I find him?”

“Send word. We’ll take care of the rest.” Planchet added, “The word is ‘Eagle Eye.’ That will mean you’ve found the sorcerer.”

Hytanthas pulled the robe over his head. It smelled as though it had just come off its previous owner. With a sun hat pulled down over his ears and his chin down to hide his hairless cheeks, he slipped away from his comrades.

An investigation of the robe’s pockets yielded a purse containing twenty steel, a sizable sum. It ought to be enough to buy the information he needed.

* * * * *

One of the forward scouts came galloping back, his horse’s hooves clattering loudly on the stony soil. Kerian reined up, halting the column. Although the Qualinesti said nothing until he’d halted his mount before her, she could tell by his face that he’d been successful.

“I found the pass, General! The entrance to the valley!”

He confirmed the identifying landmarks Kerian had memorized from Gilthas’s map. The three peaks, snowcapped, were there, lined up abreast. No tracks went in or out of the pass.

Kerian was relieved. She didn’t imagine the nomads were done with them yet, but at least they hadn’t reached the pass first. The sand beast, too, haunted her thoughts. There was no telling when the creature might turn up again.