Emerald Sceptre (20 page)

“What was that for?” Horial asked, eyeing the ring as Pilos put it into his pocket.

“She seems to be able to pass some of her energy to others when they need it,” he answered, not sure he upderstood it himself. “I just did what she told me.”

Horial nodded, a satisfied look on his face. “Well, that will keep him alive for the time being. But now we’ve got to figure out how to get out of here without drawing attention to ourselves. The Generon guards are probably swarming the streets already, looking for us.”

“They’re looking for me and Quill,” Pilos said. “But the two of you and Edilus might be able to get out without being noticed. I could stay here with Grolo while you go for help.”

Horial shook his head. “No, I appreciate your offer, lad, but I’ll bet those guards got a good description from Junce. They know we’re with you, and besides, I don’t want to leave you here alone. We’ll figure out something else.”

Pilos turned to Edilus, who hadn’t transformed back into his human shape yet. “Are you waiting to change back because you have something in mind?” he asked the druid.

The eagle’s head bobbed up and down.

“Are we supposed to guess what it is?” Horial asked somewhat wryly.

Again the nod.

“All right,” Pilos said, finding the little game challenging. “If he’s in bird form, what’s the benefit?”

“Well, no one has to smell him,” Adyan said, smirking.

That elicited a sharp squawk from Edilus.

Pilos shook his head, impatient. “Seriously, what do we gain? The ability to fly? Only for him—he can’t carry one of us with him, we know that. But he could slip through the lines of soldiers searching for us, make his way to bring back help.”

“Except that he has no idea where he’s going, or whom to trust,” Horial said. “But what if he scouted ahead for us? Checked to find the best way to travel to avoid notice, and when to duck out of sight when trouble was coming? Is that what you’re thinking, druid?”

Edilus bobbed his head up and down rapidly. Horial stroked his chin, considering. “It’s worth a try,” he said.

“It’s either that or we sit here and wait,” Adyan said, “and I don’t like the odds of that working out.”

“Me, neither,” Horial replied. “All right, let’s try it. We’ll give a peek outside, and if there’s no one about, you can fly out of here, do a quick reconnoiter, and come back to let us know. Since you can’t communicate, we’ll have to use some signals so we understand.”

After a few moments spent perfecting a series of beak jabs and directional flying, the group was ready. Pilos pulled back the latch and peeked into the alley. No one was in sight. He opened the door enough to let Edilus hop out and lift off, then watched the transformed druid glide toward the exit of the dead end where they had chosen to hide. He pulled the door to the cellar nearly shut again and watched for Edilus’s return.

While they waited, they debated which direction they should travel to seek help. Adyan and Horial wanted to get to their barracks at the temple, for they felt they would find shelter and acceptance there, but the temple lay a long way across Arrabar from the Generon, especially for a group on foot with an unconscious companion. Pilos suggested his own house, but the mercenaries thought that seemed a risky neighborhood for a group carrying a body.

Finally, they settled on a market nearby where they could beg, borrow, or steal a cart in which to ttide Grolo while they transported him. They left the debate of who would be the driver for later. They did agree that they would be better off not wearing their uniforms, so they all stripped off their telltale clothing and dumped it in a corner. Pilos was saddened to leave behind his gold circlet of office, which symbolized his position as Abreeant, but he understood the sacrifice.

Edilus returned and signaled to the men that the way was clear. They gathered up Grolo and trundled into the alley, cautious but confident as they moved toward the egress. At the first corner, they waited until the druid signaled, then darted across the road to the other side, into another alley. They made their way easily at first then nearly ran into trouble, for the far end of the next alley had become a station for Generon guardsmen to congregate and share news of their manhunt. The mercenaries had to retreat and hide behind crates while figuring out what to do next. Eventually, the guards seemed to lose interest in the spot and moved on.

At last, after considerable sneaking and watching, the group made its way into the marketplace. While Adyan hid with Grolo in a rundown lean-to

near the edge of the market, the other two found a wagon owned by a man selling clay urns, and after some haggling, they managed to purchase the entire affair—wagon, donkey, urns, and all. Pilos doled out a number of gold coins, sparing a scathing look to Horial as he did so. When the man had been paid, they took the wagon back to Adyan’s hiding place, unloaded enough urns to make space for Grolo, then covered him with blankets they purchased from another nearby vendor.

At last, they began moving out of the market, trying to look like common laborers with a cart of goods to be sold. Edilus remained an eagle, scouting ahead, though as more and more people rose for the day, the looping and circling eagle began drawing unwanted attention. Finally, Horial convinced the druid to find a secluded spot and remain inconspicuous, but keep the guise of an eagle.

The men walked together, talking casually, watching all around for any sign that they had been recognized and were being pursued. The farther they got from the Generon, the more Pilos began to relax. He had convinced the others to return with him to House Darowdryn, because he knew for certain they would be received without question there. He also wanted to let his family know that he was alive and well, but that Emriana had been caught and was missing. He finally sold Horial on the plan by telling the man that Lavant might have turned the entire temple against anyone known to have consorted with House Matrell.

“All right,” the mercenary said at last, “you win. I just hope they’ll let riffraff like us traverse the streets of your neighborhood.”

The group of fugitives worked its way into the

upscale neighborhood of the merchant villas, and Pilos knew that just a few more streets over, they would arrive in the wealthy section of town. He was beginning to feel good about the situation, and even considered what he should do next, when a strange noise caught his attention from the side of the street.

The young priest turned his head to peer in the direction of the sound and spied a face peeking out from behind a canopied store window.

“Emriana?” he asked, not believing his eyes.

• • •

“We have been watching the coastlines of your land ever since we received the portent that we would be needed,” SeriIle the sea elf maiden said, leading Vambran and Arbeenok up the rocky slope of the cave floor to a brightly lit area. “Deep Sashelas spoke to us and said that a human known to us by family and marked thrice would appear in the sea during a great battle, and that this human would seek powerful history.”

As Vambran listened to the girl’s explanation, he admired the beauty of the cave. The entire far end had been carved to mimic the shape of a nautilus shell, and in the center rested a rounded stone that reminded Vambran of a clam shell. The entire cave was draped with the green plants he and the druid had swum past. In addition, the cavern was illuminated with magical glowing orbs, resembling common pierced lanterns favored by Chondathans on the surface.

“This shrine to the Dolphin Prince is normally submerged,” Serille said as she guided the two surface

dwellers toward the stone shell, “but we made some alterations in preparation for your arrival. We thought it would allow you to be more … comfortable … this way.”

Vambran nodded as he walked around the large stone, which he took for an altar. Arbeenok chose to examine a strange script carved along the smooth walls of the place. As Serille followed the lieutenant about the shrine, other sea elves clambered out of the water. Many carried tridents or nets, and most adorned their bodies with necklaces of shells and coral, and wore belts of shark and eel skin. Some had odd satchels draped across a shoulder or hanging from a belt. Clothing was not worn by any, as Vambran was beginning to understand, feeling weighted down by his own soaking wet shirt, trousers, and boots.

“This is normally filled with water?” Vambran asked the girl as she came up beside him. He was admiring a particularly beautiful carving of a dolphin in the wall.

“Yes,” she said. “We have little need for these bubbles, though we can tolerate being out of the water for brief periods of time.”

Something the girl had said nagged at Vambran’s mind. Then it hit him. He turned to look at her. “You said that you would know me by my family. What, exactly, does that mean?”

Serille smiled. “You are Matrell, correct?” Vambran could only nod, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“You have your aunt’s eyes,” the girl said, and she laughed at Vambran’s reaction.

He finally snapped his mouth shut, then asked, “My aunt? You know Xaphira?”

“Yes, I do. She is a kind woman. Did you not know that your family and my people engage in trade? It has been quite beneficial to both sides,” she added.

Vambran shook his head. “I had no idea. That must have been what Xaphira was doing all those years she was missing.”

“I knew you were the one the moment you drove away the kraken,” Serille said, coming close and looking at Vambran intensely. “As I said, your face was familiar to me, but it was these,” and she reached up and touched the three dots, one by one, pn his forehead, “that confirmed it.” Then her bright smile clouded into a frown. “But you were unwilling to come with me then, and I thought perhaps I had made a mistake.” She turned and looked at the altar. “I spent a number of tides praying, hoping the Lord of the Sea would help me to understand what I had done wrong.”

Vambran chuckled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “At the time, I had no idea I was destined for this, so the thought of sinking to the bottom of the ocean, even with someone as fetching as you, was quite intimidating. I was drowning, if you recall.”

The smile returned to Serille’s face. “Yes,” she said. “I was happy to assist you, whether you were the one spoken of in our portents or not.”

Vambran saw that Serille’s gaze was just a little more provocative, a tad more suggestive, than it had been before, and suddenly, he was conscious again of her bare body. Turning away, he said, “I guess I should thank you for that, then,” and walked back to Arbeenok to put a little space between himself and the girl. “But now that we’re here,” he said, changing the subject, “I have no idea what we need from you.”

Arbeenok walked over to a small shelf of rock and sat down. “We are seeking great magic,” he said in his rich, deep voice. The alaghi’s words echoed through the cavern, making the elves turn and look at him in wonder. “A healing magic, to cure a terrible plague. And we believe what we need can only be found in the submerged ruins of a human city. One known as the Twelve Cities of Swords.”

Serille’s smile faded once more. “You seek great history,” she said, repeating her words from before. “Deep Sashelas told of this, but I did not know what it would mean.” She sat for a moment, as if trying to accept what the druid had revealed. Finally she stood again and said, “I don’t know what magic you have come for, either, but I can tell you that what you wish to do is very dangerous. The ruins of your ancient kingdom lie buried under the ocean floor, with only a few places accessible from the water. There are tribes of creatures living near those entrances, bitter enemies to us. And other things lurk deeper in the ruins, slumbering beasts that we would do well not to awaken. But if this is what you wish, we will try to help you.”

Vambran smiled. “The world above will thank you’, for it, if we manage to find what we’re looking for.”

Serille looked at the lieutenant. “And what about you, Matrell? Will you thank me, too?”

Vambran nodded, feeling a little unnerved. “Yes,” he said. “I will be very grateful. People I care about very deeply up there are in trouble, and I want to help them.”

Serille considered his comments, then nodded, too. “Then we must not waste time. First, we must consult with the elders of my tribe, to see what they might know of this magic you seek. If we cannot learn

enough that way, then we will ask the Dolphin Lord to guide us.”

Quickly, the elves were in motion, speaking among themselves in a language that seemed to Vambran to be a cross between elvish and the chittering of dolphins. However the conversation was resolved, shortly afterward, several of the sea elves dived into the water and disappeared, while others began to move about the chamber, searching the lines of script carved on the walls.

“I have sent my fastest swimmers to seek information from my home city,” Serille said. “It should not take more than a quarter tide to learn what we need to know.” Then she pointed to the other members of her group and said, “My companions are searching among our holy lore, trying to learn what might be revealed by our written histories.”

Vambran nodded. “So, what can we do to help?” he asked.

“Rest,” Serille said. “When we learn something, the journey to your goal will be long and arduous.” She went behind the altar and brought out a platter. Vambran saw that it held small mounds of a green substance that reminded him of algae from the ponds back home, as well as clams and even some fish, freshly filleted. The girl brought the platter to him and said, “We have prepared food for you. It is not much by your standards, we realize, but we tried to guess what you would like.”

Arbeenok moved over beside Vambran, dipped his finger in one of the piles of green goop, and licked it. His eyes widened in surprise, and he scooped up a handful and popped it into his mouth. He made a satisfied sound as he chewed the strange food and motioned for Vambran to try it.

Vambran gingerly took a sample and tasted it, not sure what to expect, Arbeenok’s reaction notwithstanding. But the flavor was delicious. It reminded the lieutenant of a blend of a hot buttered bun and a lemon, and he eagerly took another bite. Serille smiled and set the platter down between the two of them, then went off to help her kin search among the ancient writings carved into the walls of the shrine. Vambran and Arbeenok continued to consume the tasty meal. The fish was even better than the green concoction, and before long, the platter was empty and the two companions sat back, full.