The Fractured Sky (25 page)

Kaanyr scowled, but he slipped the daggers back into their sheaths and folded his arms across his chest. “Very well, angel,” he said.

As the archons drew closer and formed a circle around the four, Tauran raised his hand in a peaceful gesture. “Well met, noble soldiers. Who speaks for you?”

“I do,” one of the dog-headed warriors said, stepping forward from the circle. “State, your name and where you came from.”

“I am Tauran of the House of the Triad, and these are my companions,” he said, gesturing to the other three. “That’s Kael, loyal knight of Torm and my trusted pupil, Vhok of the Scourged Legion, based near Sundabar on Faerűn, and his lieutenant and consort, Aliisza. We come seeking only information. We wish to visit the Eye.”

The archon nodded. “The House of the Triad, you say. I’m afraid that’s going to be a problem. We have orders to detain anyone hailing from Tyr’s domain for questioning before we let them into the city.”

Aliisza felt her blood run cold. They know, she thought. Micus is here. It’s a trap.

Myshik crouched and waited at the railing of a pagoda that hovered in midair. Across an expanse of shimmering fountains that glowed like sparkling gems in every hue of the rainbow, he could see the stone arch through which Zasian, Kashada, and he had come. He was supposed to be watching for Vhok’s arrival, but Myshik was distracted by the myriad sights and sounds surrounding him.

Dweomerheart truly was a wondrous place.

So much treasure, the half-dragon mused. I could gather up an armload of precious magic at any street corner and return home a hero. Yet again he asked himself why he didn’t do that very thing. Zasian will cross me, he thought. Sooner or later, he will turn on me. When he thinks my usefulness to him has ended. It is the way of his god. I should leave now.

But he didn’t.

Myshik had been troubled by comments he had heard exchanged between Zasian and Kashada. The two of them had been cryptic, but based on what he had gleaned, the shadow-witch was angry with Zasian for not revealing a time differential to her. He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he feared that it could affect him, too, should he try to return home by himself. He was certain he was going to need Zasian’s help to return safely to the mountain of his father and uncle.

So the draconic hobgoblin bided his time and watched.

A sled came into Myshik’s view, crossing in front of his line of sight to the arch. Two great golden lions pulled the device, and it glided along on glittering silver runners. Where they passed, the runners left a trail of what Myshik could only assume was ice. Even more peculiar were the pennants that rippled from twin poles at the rear of the sled. The flags were identical, each depicting a dancing hobgoblin dressed as a court jester. Instead of cloth, though, the pennants had been constructed of something more akin to light.

The hobgoblins looked real.

As the sled passed, Myshik ducked a tiny bit lower. He told himself that they were simple hobgoblins, beneath him. He was a scion of Clan Morueme and no one would dare imprison him within a flag.

A flag!

But he shrank back out of sight all the same.

A commotion in the park caught the half-dragon’s attention. He peered carefully and saw several archons moving toward the hill and the arch. Squinting, he could barely make out four figures standing before the magical doorway.

He lifted a small crystal lens to his eye. Zasian had given it to him. The priest had told him it was on loan and not to lose it. Myshik had savored the thought of tucking it away and keeping it. He wondered how far Zasian would chase him to get it back.

Through the lens, Myshik could see the figures up close. It was Vhok and his alu whore, as well as two others—an angel and a dark figure with a large sword.

Interesting, Myshik thought. Do they work in concert? How could the cambion manage that? And who leads? So many puzzles.

The half-dragon continued to watch as the archons drew closer to the quartet and surrounded them. The angel began to speak and gesture. The others appeared nervous, fingering weapons and glaring.

Myshik half-hoped to see a fight break out. Though he suspected that Vhok and his friends would be the victors, it would amuse him nonetheless.

But they came to no blows.

Disappointed, Myshik rose from his observation point and turned to go. He reached the top of a series of floating, disconnected slabs of stone arranged like a staircase leading down from the pagoda. They wended their way through the sparkling fountains to the pathways beyond. Rather than bother descending them, Myshik spread his wings and glided to the ground. When he landed, he trotted away to inform Zasian that their pursuers had arrived in Dweomerheart.

Detain us? That’s highly unusual, isn’t it?” Tauran asked the archons. His voice carried a gracious tone, but there was a concerned edge to it. “I have come to your fascinating city on other occasions, and you never had cause to detain me then.”

The archon nodded again and waved Tauran’s concerns away. “I know, and I apologize. It’s really just a formality. The upheaval there and all, you know. We’ve been given orders to make certain any conflicts originating there don’t spill over to here.”

Aliisza saw Tauran’s shoulders relax a bit. She did not share the deva’s confidence in what they were being told. This doesn’t feel right, she thought. Don’t be so quick to trust them!

“Certainly,” the angel said. “I understand. We are happy to cooperate in whatever way necessary. Yes?” He looked to his companions.

Aliisza nodded and tried to smile, but both Kaanyr and Kael glared for long moments before each of them gave a single, curt nod.

They don’t like this, either. Why is Tauran not more suspicious?

“Lead on, good soldier,” Tauran said, motioning with his hand. “We shall follow.”

The lead archon smiled and turned. He gave some instructions for a small detail to escort the quartet of visitors to some place called the Palace of Myriad Amazements, while the rest of the force were to return to their duties.

As the four were led out of the park and down a wide street, Aliisza took in the sights. As much as the park and its magical displays amazed her, the street they turned on outdid it considerably. Every establishment they passed, from the meanest vendor to the most elaborate shop, incorporated extravagant arcane contrivances to draw attention to themselves. It was if each attempted to outdo the next.

The first building on their left was made up of a series of long towers constructed of translucent crystal. It reminded Aliisza of a set of musical pipes, and indeed, the whole place resonated with sweet tones, as though the building itself performed some song.

The entire front wall of a more conventional building on the right glowed from multiple dweomers displaying moving images of sailing ships and splashing dolphins, all in garish pinks and purples. From the noise emanating from within that place, it was a thriving taproom.

A third establishment farther down took up the entire block and resembled the dryad tree-community—or at least how Aliisza imagined it before Zasian had burned it to cinders. Unlike that locale, though, the great tree that filled the lot was entirely magical, constructed of nothing more than millions of twinkling lights. The buildings resting within those arcane branches took the form of gilded bird

cages. The whole place had a fey quality to it.

A vendor selling meat pies passed the group heading the other way. He attracted business by means of an illusory life-size phantasm of a three-headed lizardman dressed in a jester’s outfit that cavorted around the merchant’s cart. The pies he hawked smelled delicious to Aliisza, but her escort seemed intent on getting them to their destination as quickly and efficiently as possible. She gave one last, longing look back at the cart and hurried on.

A trio of ogre magi moved casually down the opposite side of one street they followed, dressed in rich silks adorned with magically enhanced baubles. Aliisza stared at them for a moment, expecting trouble, but when no one else in their retinue paid any heed to the powerful wizards, she shrugged and kept going. In her distraction, the alu almost stepped in front of a floating carriage that was missing both its draft animals and its wheels. Inside, a human with long white hair, an equally long white moustache, and even longer fingernails gave her a disdainful stare as she scooted out of the way.

Through all the sights and sounds, hundreds of lantern archons bobbed and weaved, hurrying elsewhere on some errand or another.

Once Over her initial shock and awe, Aliisza found the ostentatious nature of the city amusing. She remembered Tauran’s quip about conspicuous displays of power.

He wasn’t exaggerating, she thought. Whoever has the time and energy to go around creating all of this must be imposing. And wasteful. The alu could still feel the heightened sense of arcane potency coursing through her own body. But with this kind of power… she shivered in anticipation. Anything might be possible.

They reached an open plaza with several buildings facing

the common square, which was dominated by a great basin filled with what looked like liquid silver. A tall stone fountain depicting three incredibly lifelike dragons hovered over the center of the pool. From the mouths of the dragons spewed a continuous stream of tiny points of light, each one bursting into a myriad of colors, much like the tiny missiles that Kaanyr had been so fond of conjuring with his lost wand.

The patrol of hound archons led the four of them across the plaza to a broad-fronted building. It was one of the most mundane structures Aliisza had spotted since entering the city. Instead of steps, a ramp rose up to a colonnaded porch with three sets of immense double doors. The folk coming and going from those doors did not walk upon the ramp, however. Instead, they merely stepped onto an invisible point directly over the ramp and seemed to glide up or down without moving.

The group entered the austere building, where simple stone walls and fluted columns rose to tall, vaulted ceilings. As the visitors strode across the tiled floor, the soaring chambers echoed their footsteps. Large tapestries hung in some of the alcoves, and hallways led to other parts of the building in others.

Aliisza felt a vague sense of unease. It looks like a cathedral, she decided. And not so many amazements. Someone has a sense of humor, I guess.

The archons led the quartet through several halls and down a broad set of stairs until they came to a polished wooden door. The leader of the patrol opened the door and ushered them inside.

“Someone should be here to speak with you shortly,” he said, stepping aside.

Tautan nodded and passed through.

Kaanyr hesitated at the entrance. “How long?” he asked, more gruffly than Aliisza thought necessary.

Don’t make them more wary, you dolt! she wanted to yell at him.

The archon bristled slightly. “As soon as is reasonably possible. You will wait here until they can get to you. As you can imagine, there is a bit of a backlog. We have many visitors to the city every day.”

“Quit being a boor and go in,” Kael growled from behind the cambion.

Aliisza was glad she wasn’t the only one who had been thinking that.

Kaanyr grimaced and rolled his eyes, but he turned and entered the room. Kael and Aliisza followed him, and the archon pulled the door shut after her, leaving them alone.

The chamber was pleasant and comfortable, with several couches arrayed around the perimeter and a side table filled with numerous foods and beverages. Beautiful magically animated landscapes adorned the walls, like moving paintings made of light and sound. Aliisza stared at one, astonished at the way the populace spared no use of arcane power for the most mundane things. She noted that there were no other windows or exits from the room.

Kaanyr headed straight for the spread of food and grabbed up a thick slab of bread. Breaking it in half, he layered some roasted meat simmering in rich, dark mushroom gravy, along with some slices of cheese, onto the crust. He was on the verge of biting into the meal when he froze in place.

“You don’t think they’ve laced this with something, do you?” he asked no one in particular. “Should we eat it?”

Aliisza’s stomach was rumbling, and the odors wafting from the spread made her mouth water. She and Kael both

had followed the cambion to the food when Kaanyr posed his question. She halted on the verge of pouring a flagon of chilled wine.

“Why? What would that accomplish?” Tauran asked, motioning for them to continue. “They have no reason to be suspicious of us, nor we of them. This is all just a precaution, I tell you.”

“How can you be so certain?” Kaanyr asked, eyeing his food. “You can be too trusting.”

“I agree,” Aliisza said, still holding the wine and empty goblet. “What if this brief detention is nothing but an excuse to keep us here until Micus can come and subdue us? We’re trapped in this room.”

Tauran shrugged and moved to one of the couches. He sank down and reclined, closing his eyes. “Though Mystra holds sway here, many outsiders travel to Dweomerheart to conduct trade. Whatever else motivates her, Mystra benefits when that trade, particularly in all things magical, is lucrative. It’s hard to entice travelers to stop over when you make a habit of seizing them off the streets and incarcerating them for questioning.”

“That proves my point all the more,” Kaanyr argued. “This is too unusual. They have brought us here specifically because of who we are. For all we know, Micus is behind it and will come through that door in a matter of moments.”

“Exactly,” Aliisza said. “It feels like a set up.” She sniffed the wine in the pitcher but could detect no taint upon it. That doesn’t mean anything, she thought.

Tauran didn’t open his eyes. “Suit yourselves,” he said, “but I know the angels here. They are aware of the disaster within the House and they are just being cautious. They don’t want a faction war spilling over into Dweomerheart. Micus is not part of this.”

“What about Zasian?” Kael asked. “Perhaps he has put something in place to stall us, trap us. This could be his doing.”