The Nomad (13 page)

They might not believe him, but they would have no way of being certain that he was
not
telling them the truth. They might still refuse him, but he did not think they would. They would certainly need all the help that they could get in the city of the undead, whether he was an agent of the Shadow King or not. And they would doubtless realize that there was no way they could prevent him from following them… short of killing him, of course, and their preserver sense of morality would not allow for that.

He smiled. Yes, he thought, this was going to be enjoyable. It would be a fitting cap to his career. When this was over, the Shadow King would show his gratitude and reward him richly. His greatest enemy would be eliminated, and Nibenay would even be generous enough to ask him to name his prize among the templar harem. He might even be generous enough to offer him a further bonus, and if he did not offer, Valsavis would not hesitate to ask.

He already knew what he would ask for. He would ask for a spell from the dragon king to bring his youth back. He already had a great deal of money hidden away, money he had earned in the service of the Shadow King, money he never had any reason to spend because he had lived simply and quietly. It was money that he had painstakingly set aside for his old age, when he became infirm and could no longer care for himself. On the other hand, with his youth back, he could use that money to buy himself a very different sort of life. He could come back to Salt View and settle down, perhaps purchase an inn or build a gaming house, which would, over the years, produce more than ample funds to see him through his second old age. And meanwhile, he could enjoy himself and do anything he chose to do. It was a pleasant fantasy, and one that was by no means out of reach.

The two girls were finishing their rubdown. Their touches were become lighter and softer, more like caresses. They were trying to place him in a mood of receptivity for further services of a more intimate nature. And, he thought, why not? It had been a long time since he had sported with a woman, much less with two at the same time. The elfling and the priestess would keep. They had already agreed to meet with him for dinner and an evening’s entertainment on the town. Besides, he had taken care to bribe the clerk to inform him if they tried to go anywhere without him. He sighed deeply and turned over onto his back. The two girls smiled at him and began to stroke his chest, slowly working their way down. And then his hand began to tingle. “Leave me,” he said, at once. They started to protest, but he insisted. “Leave me, I said. I want a few moments to be alone and rest. I will call you when I need you.”

Reassured that they were not being summarily dismissed, the two girls left, and Valsavis brought his hand up before his face. The eye on his ring opened.
“What progress have you made?”
the Shadow King inquired.

“Much,” Valsavis replied. “I have joined the elfling and priestess as a traveling companion. They were set upon by marauders, and I had the opportunity to come to their aid. We are now in Salt View together, and in an hour’s time, we shall be sitting down to dinner.”

“And they suspect nothing?”
asked the Shadow King.
“They have no idea who you really are?”

“They may suspect, but they do not know for sure,” Valsavis replied. “And that only makes things more interesting.”

“Have they attempted to contact the Silent One?”
asked Nibenay.

“Not yet,” Valsavis said, “but I have no doubt that will try to do so soon. Perhaps even tonight.”

“You must not let them slip away,”
said Nibenay.
“You must not lose them, Valsavis.”

“I will not lose them, my lord. You may count on that. In fact, I intend to accompany them to Bodach.”

“What? You mean travel with them?”

“Why not? Everyone has heard of Bodach’s legendary treasure. Why shouldn’t that tempt a mercenary like myself, who has no other immediate prospects?”

“Take care. You are playing a dangerous game, Valsavis,”
said the Shadow King.

“I find dangerous games amusing, my lord.”

“Do not be insolent with me, Valsavis! I did not send you out to be amused, but to follow the elfling to his master.”

“I am doing just that, my lord. And you must admit that it is easier by far to follow someone you are traveling with.”

“See that you do not become overconfident, Valsavis. The elfling is far more dangerous than you may realize. He is not someone to be trifled with or underestimated.”

“I have already discovered that, my lord.”

“Remember the Breastplate of Argentum,”
said the Shadow King.
“It must not be allowed to fall into his hands.”

“I have not forgotten that, my lord. Rest assured, if he should find it before I do, he shall not keep it long. I have never failed you before, have I?”

“There is a first time for everything,”
Nibenay replied.
“See to it that this is not your first time, Valsavis. If it is, then I promise you that you shall not survive it.”

The golden eyelid closed.

“Ho, girls!” Valsavis called out.

The two girls came running back into the small, private room, wearing nothing but their smiles.

“I am ready for you now,” Valsavis said.

The dining room of the Oasis served a sumptuous repast. After a hearty dinner of braised z’tal and wild mountain rice for Valsavis and stir-fried seasoned vegetables with kanna sauce for Sorak and Ryana, they went out to tour the main street of Salt View. The sun had already gone down and the main street was brightly lit by torches and braziers. Shadows danced upon the neatly whitewashed buildings lining both sides of the street, and the number of vendors had grown, many of them setting up new booths in the center of the street, or else simply spreading out their goods on blankets laid upon the ground.

The character of the town had, indeed, changed, as Valsavis had predicted. There were many more people on the street now, drawn out by the cool night air, scantily clad human and half-elf females strolled up and down the street provocatively, boldly propositioning passers-by. Barkers stood by the entrances to the bawdy houses, seeking to entice people inside With lurid descriptions of the thrills that awaited them within. Strolling groups of players wandered up and down the street, stopping every now and then to give a small performance, a brief scene followed by a pitch to see the rest of the production at the theater down the street. There were acrobats and jugglers and musicians who performed for coins tossed into their hats or on their cloaks, which they had spread out on the ground before them. Valsavis explained that the village council did not object to street performers, as they plied a vocation and added color and atmosphere to the town by their presence, whereas beggars merely clogged the walkways and the alleys and provided nothing but pathetic whining.

As they walked along, Sorak slipped slightly to the background and allowed the Guardian to the fore, so that she could gently probe the minds of passers-by and find out if anyone knew anything about the Silent One. However, no one seemed to be thinking about the mysterious druid, and the Guardian soon despaired of looking into jaded, shallow minds that were filled only with a hungry desperation for sensual stimulation and depravity.

Before long, they came to a gaming house with a carved wooden sign outside identifying it as the Desert Palace. It was a neat, attractive building, but it hardly looked palatial. It was a structure of sunbaked and plastered, whitewashed adobe brick, as were all the buildings on the main street of Salt View, built in a long, rectangular shape. It had a small, paved courtyard in front of it, which one entered through an archway with a gate of cactus ribs and agafari wood. The small courtyard led to a covered portal that shaded the front doors.

They went inside and came into a large, cavernous chamber. The entire first floor of the Desert Palace was one large open room. There was a partial second floor, open in the center, making a gallery running around on all four sides from which people could look down on the action at the tables below. The rooms up on the second floor were probably private rooms and offices for the management. Sorak noted that there were several elf archers stationed up on the gallery, armed with small, powerful crossbows. They walked slowly back and forth along the gallery, keeping a careful watch on the crowd below. Undoubtedly, they were fine marksmen, but Sorak made a mental note to keep an eye on them in case any trouble erupted on the gaming floor. He did not wish to be near such an outbreak and accidentally wind up with another arrow in his back. Even for a superior bowman, it would be difficult to shoot accurately under such crowded conditions. On the other hand, knowing that probably had a pacifying effect upon the clientele.

Light was provided by candles set in sconces mounted upon large, wooden wheels suspended from the beamed ceiling. There were also oil lamps and braziers adding illumination. A dimly lit gaming house, Sorak recalled from his days at the Crystal Spider, only made it easier for the patrons to attempt cheating. And, along with the archers on the upper gallery, there were also well-armed, burly guards stationed at various points throughout the main hall, making sure none of the customers got out of line.

They wandered through the gaming hall toward the long bar at the rear. This, too, was clever planning, Sorak thought. Many such establishments built their bars along the side, which afforded them more room to squeeze people in, but here, if one was thirsty, one first had to walk past all the tables to get to the bar, and that made it easier for patrons to be drawn into a Same, especially since attractive human and half-elf serving wenches constantly moved among the tables with their trays, bringing drinks to those at the tables.

And the tables seemed to offer every conceivable sort of game. There were roulette wheels and dice tables, round tables where patrons played cards against one another—with an attendant to make sure the house took a percentage of each pot—and U-shaped tables where people played against a dealer. There were even several tables where a game was played that Sorak had never seen before. They stopped on their way through to watch one of these curious new games.

The first thing that they noticed was that no cards were used, nor were there any playing pieces. There were no wheels or boards, and the players were in teams. Instead of a dealer, there was a sort of gamemaster who directed the play. Each player assumed a character at the beginning of the game and rolled dice to determine the character’s abilities. The gamemaster then presented them with an imaginary scenario through which they had to play, as teams, supporting one another with their respective skills. One character might be a thief, another might be a druid, still another a fighter or an adept, and so forth. And the game that they had stopped to watch just happened to be called, ironically, “The Lost Treasure of Bodach.”

The players had already chosen their characters and rolled to determine their strengths and abilities. They had already completed the preliminary rounds, and now the climax of the game was about to begin.

“You have just entered the lost city of Bodach,” said the gamemaster to the players. He proceeded to set the stage for them. “It has been a long and dusty journey on a hot, sweltering day, and you are all exhausted. You long to rest, but you cannot, because you know that in another hour’s time, the sun will go down, and then the undead will creep forth from i their lairs, where they molder throughout the day. i Therefore, your first priority must be to find a place to hide, a shelter that is defensible, where you may spend the night in safety—inasmuch as one can ever be safe in the city of the undead, of course. If you succeed in finding such a shelter, then perhaps the undead will not find you. On the other hand,” he paused dramatically “…perhaps they shall. There is no predicting what may happen in the city of doomed souls. But for now, remember that you have but one hour before the sun goes down. Consider what you choose to do next very carefully.”

Sorak and Ryana noticed that they were not the only ones who had stopped to watch and listen. A number of other people were standing around, observing the play with fascination. It was, in a way, much like watching a small, informal theatrical production of an improvisational nature. The players had to improvise, because they had no idea what the gamemaster would present them with next. He was die only one who had a script. And the players had to improvise in character, just like actors on a stage.

“As you stand inside the ancient city gates,” the gamemaster continued, “you see a narrow street stretching out before you, leading to a plaza with a large fountain that has been dry for countless generations. All around are ancient buildings, crumbling into ruin. Sand blows across the streets, piling up into small dunes against the ruined building walls. As you approach the plaza, you see that it is littered with hones, the skeletons of adventurers just like yourselves who came to Bodach in search of the lost treasure and found, instead, their deaths. As you approach still closer, you see that many of these bones are broken, snapped open so that the marrow could have been sucked out, and many of these bones also bear the marks of chewing.”

The players glanced at one another uneasily. The gamemaster had a deep, mellifluous and dramatic voice, and he knew how to use it to its best effect. They could all see in their minds’ eyes the image that he was constructing for them, and his presentation had them all caught up in the illusion he was spinning out.

“Beyond the ancient bones,” he continued, “on the opposite side of the fountain, three streets radiate outward from the plaza. One of these streets leads straight north and affords a clear and unobstructed view. One leads to the northwest, but it curves off sharply to the left after thirty or forty yards, so that you cannot see what lies beyond this curve. And the third street leads to the northeast. However, there is a pile of rubble from a collapsed building in the center of it, almost completely blocking the street. You cannot see what lies beyond this pile of rubble, but you can see that it does not block the street entirely. There is a very narrow passage to the right, just barely wide enough to allow one individual to pass through at a time. You must now choose which way you will go.”