Sands of the Soul (32 page)

“And maybe if Ciredor isn’t here,” Tazi mused, “we can use that shield to keep him out and destroy his gift. If he can’t cast his spell on this special night in this special location, maybe everything will be ruined. Stay here.”

Tazi got up and looked around for a torch in the dark, dusty tower. She spotted one along one of the walls and pried it loose. While she felt inside her vest for her chunk of flint, Steorf pointed a finger at the torch and it burst into flames. She graced him with a quick smile, transferred the torch to her left hand, and drew out her sword with her right.

The tower wasn’t very wide, and she found the stairs soon enough, passing by a row of very old armaments. She debated about rummaging through the swords and pikes that were lined up against the wall but decided to stay with her blade. After years of training, it was like an extension of her arm.

She started up the steps.

Tazi walked along the outer edge of the stairs out of habit. That was the section of planking Cale had taught her years ago that always had the least chance of creaking, though it would take sharp ears to hear anything with the storm raging outside. The steps were divided in sections of ten, turning at right angles. In the center was an opening that ran the whole height of the tower. If she leaned to the side, Tazi could look

up and down the length of the stairway. One wrong step could bring someone crashing down very quickly.

“‘My life is like a broken stair, winding round a ruined tower, and leading nowhere,’” she whispered—a phrase from an old taproom love song she had heard once.

She stopped at the first level and peered at the floor. There was nothing other than a series of bunks that lined the walls. Tazi reasoned that at least one garrison must have been housed there long before.

Between them and the spheres of protection, Tazi noted, travelers would have had it easy.

I wonder what happened to cause this to fall apart? she asked herself.

She made herself a mental note to ask Fannah about it all when they got back to Calimport.

There’s that certainty again, she caught herself thinking. Do I really believe we’re going to make it, or is it simply because I cannot conceive of death?

The third level was devoid of anything, and Tazi cautiously approached the fourth level. She was careful but had had a sneaking suspicion the whole march up that she wouldn’t find anything.

If Ciredor had gone to the trouble of barring the entrance, she thought, he was probably not inside, like Steorf suspected. ,

She didn’t smell his foul presence.

When she entered the rooftop parapet, she could see the sandstorm swirl around the tower, but the sound was still somewhat muted where she stood. Tazi caught a glint of her torch reflected back at her. She moved over to what looked like an open arch and stabbed at the empty space with her sword. The tip of her blade clinked against something, and she guessed that at least part of the parapet was glassed in. Set in the center of the room was a brass brazier resting on a stone base.

Tazi moved over to the brazier and held her torch above it. She studied the roof that was balanced on the deceptively

slender arches. Set in a circle at the point of the roof, Tazi could see several blue crystals wink in the firelight. She sheathed her guardblade.

Tazi set the torch into the brazier, and within a minute, a small flame burned where no fire had been in thousands of years.

Tazi watched, awestruck, as the heat of the flames warmed the crystals and they came to life. The sapphire gems shone brilliantly, and outside Tazi could see the sand take on an azure color as light radiated from the minaret. The swirling seemed to diminish slightly, and the howls died down.

“Fannah was right,” she said to herself. Tazi rushed down the stairs and nearly turned an ankle on a loose step in her haste. She caught herself and kept going, cursing herself for not taking the torch with her. At the bottom of the stairs Fannah and Steorf were waiting for her. Steorf was unsteady on his feet, and she could see he held up his hand to illuminate the room.

“It worked,” she told them. “Just like you said it would, Fannah.”

“So all the stones were there,” Fannah remarked. “Yes,” Tazi answered, “they were all mounted in the ceiling. Why?”

“I have heard stories of raiders who stole some of the gems along the Trade Way and sold them for huge fortunes in Memnon and Calimport. The gems, as I understand it, can only be found in the Omlarandin Mountains of Tethyr,” she explained. “So they are basically irreplaceable, and if even one is missing it will not work.”

“They’re all there. Now let’s light the other and see if we can lock Ciredor out,” Tazi told them, buoyed by her success in the tower.

Tazi opened the doors to the east minaret, prepared to be blasted by the harsh winds, but the stones were working their magic. It was noticeably calmer, though the sand still swirled and stung their eyes. The west minaret was in view, a sharp

outline against the setting sun, and the three didn’t need to form a human chain to cross the Trade Way.

As soon as they reached the west tower, Steorf raised his hands to remove the wards. Tazi saw him lower them slowly, and she wondered if he was feeling weaker again, having expended too much of his sorcerous abilities.

“What is it?” she asked.

He turned to her and said ominously, “There aren’t any wards on this entrance.”

Tazi drew her sword and stepped inside, followed closely by Steorf and Fannah.

They shut the doors behind them, and Tazi said quietly, “I have a feeling we shouldn’t get our hopes too high. I don’t think this is going to be as easy as it looks.”

Steorf turned sharply at Tazi’s statement and grew thoughtful.

“What is it?” Tazi asked him.

“I think ‘hope,’” he said, “just might be Ciredor’s downfall.”

Tazi nodded but was only partially paying attention, completely on guard.

“We might have beaten him here,” she told her friends. “Stay down here and guard the entrance.”

“What?” Steorf whispered harshly. “I’m coming with you.” f

“No,” Tazi stopped him. “If he’s not here, I need you guarding the entrance to stop him. If he is here”— she paused—”a few stairs won’t slow you down.”

Secretly, she knew he was mostly spent, and a part of her was afraid he would only slow her down when she faced Ciredor.

Steorf reluctantly agreed. He pulled a torch down and started to hand it to her but Tazi refused.

“I think it’s better if I don’t make myself too much of a target. Better to be in darkness,” she whispered. “I’ve got my flint and a bit of tinder in my vest.”

She patted the pocket to verify its contents.

“Luck to you,” Fannah bid her. “See you soon,” she told them.

Tazi made her way carefully over to the stairs. Out of some childish superstition, she didn’t glance back at her friends as she climbed the tower steps.

While the first two floors were nearly identical to the east minaret, Tazi noticed some differences farther up. By the faint light that came from the small lookout windows cut into the stones, Tazi could see some strange markings on the wall. Closer inspection under the weak, blue glow revealed writings very similar to the spidery scrawls that had covered Ciredor’s scrolls. Spaced between some of the blocks of writing were hooks that housed obscene statues. Tazi had to gasp as she recognized one carved figure from the tallhouse Ciredor had rented in Selgaunt.

“Pig,” she whispered and was startled to hear the quiver in her own voice.

She tightened her grip on her blade and continued up.

She entered the darkened parapet. Though the outside continued to glow faintly, the room was still very shadowy. Tazi held her breath and strained her eyes in the gloom, trying to discover why it was so dark. As best she could tell, Tazi thought that this lookout tower’s glass walls were lined with something.

Perhaps Ciredor wanted to shut out the light, she thought. I’ll worry about it later.

Tazi realized that she had very little time. The sun had finally disappeared, and she knew Fannah’s life was in mortal jeopardy. She moved over to the center of the room and was relieved to see that the brazier was intact.

But that relief faded when she craned her head back to study the roof. The pale light from outside refracted through the crystals, and Tazi could see a hole of light. That meant one crystal was missing. Her heart sank.

“Dark and empty,” she hissed. “Not when we’re this close!”

Remembering what Fannah had told her about thieves and the rarity of the crystals, Tazi momentarily feared the worst. She stood still, feeling her heart pounding.

“No,” she finally said aloud.

She dropped to her knees and began to feel around on the floor.

If nothing else, she admitted to herself, Ciredor is thorough. Either all the gems would be here or none would.

Her first pass revealed nothing but pebbles. Then the thought occurred to her that he might have removed one as he left, sort of like taking a key so the towers couldn’t be locked behind him.

She refused to accept that idea, hating herself for even thinking it, and made a second pass on the floor. After a moment, her fingers brushed something hard and cold. She grabbed at the object and felt its many, smooth facets.

“Got you,” she whispered.

Tazi stood up and climbed onto the stone support for the brazier. Stretching her full length, she was just barely able to wedge the gem into the empty spot. She jumped down and felt a pain resonate in her joints. Her body was once again telling her it needed water.

“Soon,” she whispered. “We’re almost done.”

Tazi pulled out the sack that contained her flint and a tiny, pile of tinder. She made a small mound in the center of the brazier and searched the floor for a bit of stone. When she found a suitable chunk, she held the rock over the pile of tinder and struck her flint against it. It took a few tries, but Tazi got the spark she needed. She blew gently on the combustible fluff, and a small flame erupted. It was enough to heat the brazier, which in turn heated the stones in the ceiling.

But instead of illuminating the room in a blue glow, the stones lit everything with an amethyst hue.

The winds fell completely silent outside, and Tazi was startled by the absence of sound. It was absolutely still. However, what was more startling was what the purple glow revealed

about the room she was in. Though the stones hadn’t heated to their full intensity yet, the light was sufficient for Tazi to make out what had blocked the glass of the lookout tower. Encircling the entire room were mummified bodies. Tazi was transfixed by the macabre tableau.

The tiny flame warmed the crystals even more, and Tazi could see that it was the crystal that she had replaced that was the source of the purple hue. Unlike theTethyr crystals that had been set in the tower by artisans of the Shoon Imperium, the one Tazi had fixed in the ceiling was an unholy, amethyst gemstone. The gem flickered to full strength from the heat of the brass brazier and stronger beams of light shot eut of it. Each beam struck one of the mummified bodies and illuminated their faces.

Despite her repulsion, Tazi walked around the tower room and studied the dead. She had no way of knowing how long the bodies had been there, since each was dried but perfectly preserved. There were all manner of creatures hanging from the glass. Some she knew. Others were a mystery as to what manner of creature they had been in life. The flutter of one’s robe caught her attention, and Tazi could see silver circles glinting on the deep purple cloak. She thought of lizard scales and realized she knew who it was before she saw his face.

“The Mysterious Lurker,” she whispered. “This is your reward for trusting Ciredor.”

Tazi fell silent when she saw the mummy to her right.

She reached out a shaking hand to the face that even in death she would always recognize: Ebeian Hart.

“How did he do this?” she asked and was once again denied the release of tears by her dry body. “And why?”

She cocked her head to one side and hugged herself, now unable to touch the elf who had meant so much to her. She didn’t notice the soft steps behind her.

“What a lovely surprise to find you here,” the silky voice whispered, “though it really isn’t a surprise at all.”

Tazi’s blood froze and she turned slowly around with her weapon held high, her sunken eyes open wide.

Standing by the stairwell, Ciredor was a study in black. He folded his arms across his chest and looked affectionately at Tazi.

“My dear Thazienne,” he told her easily, “welcome home.”

The silence outside was deafening. The sun had finally set and the new, dark moon had risen in the night sky.

Tazi backed up slightly at the sound of Ciredor’s voice. She kept her sword high, but couldn’t wipe the stunned look off her face. Ciredor’s smile widened.

“Dear Thazienne,” he drawled, “you haven’t forgotten me, have you?”

Tazi swallowed hard and felt her gorge rise in her throat. Standing before her was the man who had haunted her dreams ever since her last encounter with him. His voice was thick and sweet, and she felt herself reeling. The moment had been inevitable, and still it was nearly impossible to take.

“Ah,” he said, “I can see I still mean something to you after all these years. How wonderful.”

He moved over to the brazier and inspected Tazi’s handiwork. He crinkled his brow slightly and grabbed the poker that was resting nearby.

The moment he wrapped his hand around it, Tazi raised her sword even more and held it with both hands, but Ciredor paid her no mind and simply used the tool to shift the coals about. The increased air circulation caused the flames to shoot up and the amethyst glowed even brighter under Ciredor’s loving ministrations.

“That’s better,” he said, and Tazi realized he was talking to himself.

It was as though she was no longer in the room with him. She backed up even more and felt a sick thud as she knew she had pushed up against one of the mummies.