The Nomad (26 page)

“You
really
cannot see me?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Kara?” he asked. “Can you see me?”

“I can hear you,” she replied, her senses being sharper than any human’s. “I can hear the faint fall of your footsteps, and in the stillness, I can hear your breathing. But I cannot see you. No one can, Sorak, not so long as you wear the Breastplate of Argentum.”

“A talisman of invisibility!” said Sorak with wonder. He tiptoed around behind Ryana and once again tapped her on the shoulder. She jerked around, startled.

“Stop that!” she said. “Where
are
you?” He chuckled. “This is fun,” he said. “Well, I don’t think it’s very funny,” she replied, irritably. “Take it off!”

“Not yet,” he said, and Ryana heard the soft fall of his footsteps as he moved around her. “This is a strange and wondrous experience! I feel no different, save for a momentary, curious tingling sensation that I felt when I first put it on. I see everything clearly, just as before. I look down at my legs, and I can still see them. I hold my hand up before my face, and I can see it, too. But you and Kara see nothing? Not even the faintest disturbance in the air?”

Ryana shook her head. “No, not a thing,” she said. “And it is most unsettling. I wish that you would take it off.”

“What about the undead, Kara?” Sorak asked. “Would I be invisible to them, as well?”

“Most of the undead no longer have eyes,” said Kara, “yet still they ‘see,’ in a manner of speaking. They would sense your presence. Unfortunately, the Breastplate of Argentum would not safeguard you from them.”

“Pity,” Sorak said. “Does it do anything else?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Kara replied. “But it is imbued with an ancient, eldritch power that perhaps the Sage would use in some other way. I cannot tell. I am a pyreen and a druid, not a sorceress. Only the Sage could tell you what use he would make of its enchantment.”

“Where is the Sage?” Ryana asked her. “Do you know? Can’t you tell us? Is he near?”

“No,” said Kara. “He is very far away. But in another sense, he is nearer than you think.”

Ryana sighed with exasperation. “Do you never reply with anything but riddles, my lady?”

Kara smiled. “Sometimes,” she said. “And speaking of time, we had best be on our way if we do not wish Valsavis to find us.”

“He has already found you,” came a familiar voice, echoing through the chamber.

Kara and Ryana turned quickly to see Valsavis step into the room, his sword drawn.

“Did you really think you could leave me behind so easily?” he said. “And did you truly believe you could mislead me by leaving your flying platform in plain sight on the other side of the city? Or did you forget that a roc can spy its prey from a great distance, hundreds of feet above the—” and then his words caught in his throat as he saw the treasure horde spread out before him in the pool. “Gith’s blood!” he swore.

Ryana gazed at him impassively from the other end of the chamber. “Yes, Valsavis,” she said. “You have found the fabled, lost treasure of Bodach. And you are more than welcome to it. It should make you rich beyond your wildest dreams. Richer than any aristocrat, wealthier even than any sorcerer-king, including Nibenay, your master. Though, of course, how you will transport it may prove something of a problem.”

As she spoke, Sorak, still wearing the enchanted talisman, quietly began to circle around the pool.

“Where is the elfling?” Valsavis said, recovering from his astonishment. “Who?” asked Ryana innocently. Valsavis glanced quickly around the chamber. “He is here somewhere,” he said. “If you think to trick me, then—” and suddenly he paused, listening intently.

Sorak glanced down at his feet and silently cursed. His foot had struck a bracelet that had landed on the lip of the pool and knocked it in. It fell into the treasure pile with a clinking sound.

“Are you jumping at shadows now, Valsavis?” asked Ryana, seeking to distract him. She could not tell where Sorak was, but she could guess what he was doing.

“Sorak!” Valsavis called out. “I know you’re there! I heard you moving! Come out where I can see you!” Sorak did not reply. He continued moving toward Valsavis, placing his feet softly and carefully.

“Why do you hide, Sorak?” asked Valsavis, his gaze sweeping the chamber. “What do you have to fear from me? You are a master of the Way, with a magic sword no other weapon can withstand. And I… I am only one old man, with no talismans or magic weapons. No psionic powers. Am I such a threat to you?”

“Not you, Valsavis, but your master, the Shadow King,” said Ryana, hoping to draw his attention and cover up any sounds Sorak might make.

Valsavis felt a tingling on his left hand as the eyelid of the ring opened.

Kara frowned and quickly held out her hand toward him. “Nibenay is here!” she said with alarm.

“I can sense his presence!”

Sorak slowly drew his sword. And as he did so, Ryana gasped involuntarily. Sorak was still unseen, but Galdra’s magic blade was clearly visible. The magic of the Breastplate of Argentum did not affect the enchanted elven steel. And Sorak did not know it.

Valsavis saw the blade approaching, apparently floating toward him of its own accord, and quickly turned to face it, his eyes growing wide with surprise. At once, he took a fighting stance.

“Sorak!”
Ryana called out. “Your blade! He can
see
it!”

Startled, Sorak stopped, still about eight or nine feet from the mercenary.

“So,” Valsavis said, “that is the power of the talisman. It confers invisibility.” He snorted with derision. “Were you so afraid to face me that you had to approach by stealth?”

Sorak reached behind him with his left hand and unfastened the breastplate, first at the waist, then at the neck. It fell to the ground at his feet, rendering him visible once more. “Very well,” he said. “Now you see me. The next move is yours, Valsavis.”

“As you wish,” Valsavis said with a smile. And, to their surprise, he sheathed his sword.

Sorak narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Now what?” asked Valsavis, raising his eyebrows and folding his muscular arms across his chest.

“What are you up to, Valsavis?” Sorak asked uncertainly.

“I? Why, nothing. I am merely standing here.”

“Take care, Sorak!” Ryana shouted. “Nibenay will use him as a conduit for his power!”

“No,” said Valsavis. “He shall not. I am no sorcerer, but even I know that such an act would require a great expenditure of power, and the Shadow King hoards his powers jealously. The metamorphosis always remains his first priority. Besides, there is no need for me to depend upon the Shadow King. As you can see, I have sheathed my sword. It has served me well these many years and I have no wish to see it break upon that magic, elvish blade.”

“Watch out, Sorak!” cried Ryana. “He has some trick in mind!”

Valsavis shrugged. “No tricks,” he said. “Go on, elfling. Now is your chance to be rid of me, once and for all. So… strike.”

“Damn you,” Sorak said, lowering his blade. Valsavis smiled. “You see?” he said. “I had complete faith in you. You would not hesitate to fight if I attacked. But you would not kill an unarmed man who offers no resistance. That would be murder. Being a preserver does have certain disadvantages.”

“What do you want, Valsavis?” Sorak demanded, an edge in his voice.

Valsavis glanced down at the talisman, lying on the tiled floor and glowing faintly. “That… for a start.”

“You shall not have it.”

“Well, perhaps not right this moment, but we shall see,” Valsavis said. “You managed to shake me loose once. You shall not do it a second time. I will stay right on your heels until you lead me to your master. And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“I would not be so sure,” said Sorak, sheathing Galdra. “You were right, Valsavis. I cannot not kill a man who simply stands there and offers no resistance. But I
can
knock him senseless.”

Valsavis grinned and uncrossed his arms, putting his fists on his hips.
“You?
Knock
me
senseless? Now that is something I would like to see.”

“Very well, then,” Sorak said. “Watch.”

He slipped back and allowed the Guardian to the fore. Abruptly, a small, silver coin came flying up out of the treasure horde and spun across the chamber with a soft, rushing sound like an arrow flying through the air. It struck Valsavis hard in the side of his head, just above his ear. Valsavis flinched, recoiling, and brought his hand up to the spot. It came away wet with a drop of blood. Another coin followed, and then another, and another, and another. Bracelets, jewels, golden plates and silver goblets, amulets and more coins followed in rapid succession as Valsavis backed away and brought his arms up to protect his face. More and more pieces of the treasure came flying up out of the pool, hurtling toward him with great speed and force, striking him about the head and body, cutting him and raising painful welts and bruises.

Valsavis staggered backward, crying out, not so much with pain as with rage and frustration. His arms could not ward off all the objects that came flying at him, striking with greater and greater force. He spun around, doubling over, trying to hunch down and make himself a smaller target, all to no avail. The hail of treasure continued relentlessly as Ryana joined her power to the Guardian’s, and they hurled one piece after another at him, taking care to make sure that none of them were swords or daggers or other objects that could kill.

Roaring with rage, Valsavis reeled back and slammed into a support column, stunning himself. He dropped to his hands and knees, leaving his head uncovered, and the Guardian took that opportunity to levitate a heavy silver tray and bring it down hard upon his skull. Valsavis collapsed, unconscious, to the riled floor.

“Well, you did say you wanted to see it,” Sorak said, gazing down at him. He stepped forward, walking over the litter of treasure on the floor, and crouched over the prostrate mercenary, looking him over carefully. “Hmmm. That is a rather interesting ring.” He reached for it.

“Don’t touch it!”
Kara shouted suddenly. As Sorak drew back his hand and glanced toward her, startled by her cry, they rushed over to him.

Valsavis lay, stretched out, on the floor. On his left hand, the heavy, golden ring was clearly visible. And from it, a malevolent, yellow eye with a vertical pupil stared out at them. It was the hate-filled gaze of Nibenay, the Shadow King.

“If you touch it, you will establish a link with him,” said Kara. “And then you will be lost.”

“Then I shall use the Way,” said Sorak. “No,” said Kara, putting a restraining hand on his arm. “That will be the same as coming into contact with it. Come away. Leave it alone. To touch it is to be defiled.”

“We should at least tie him up so that he cannot follow us again,” said Ryana.

“And leave him helpless for the undead to find?” said Sorak. He shook his head. “No. We cannot do that, little sister, tempting as it may be. That would be the same as killing him right now, while he lies senseless.”

“That would not stop the Veiled Alliance,” said Ryana, a hard edge to her voice. “They would not hesitate to slit the bastard’s throat.”

“We are not the Veiled Alliance,” Sorak replied. “They may be preservers like us, it is true, but they are not druids, and they have compromised the purity of their vows for the expediency of their purpose. That is not our way.”

“The Sage does not seem to hold their methods against them,” said Ryana.

“Perhaps not,” said Sorak. “The Sage needs whatever allies he can find. But do you hold true to your principles for yourself, or for the sake of someone else?”

Ryana smiled wanly. “Those are Varanna’s words,” she said. “I had lost count of how many times I’d heard them.”

“They often bear repeating,” Sorak said.

Ryana sighed. “You are right, of course. It would be nothing less than murder to leave him here tied up. Tempting as it may be, it would be no different than executing him.”

“No, it would not,” said Sorak. “And when it comes to that, what has he really done to merit being killed?”

Ryana glanced at him with surprise. “How can you say that? He serves the Shadow King!”

“Yes,” Sorak agreed, “he does. And he has also saved our lives. I might have died with that marauder arrow in my back, or else been eaten by some predator while I lay helpless if he had not given me aid. And he came with me to rescue you from the marauders.”

“I would have escaped, regardless,” she said.

“Perhaps,” said Sorak. “But that does not alter what he did. And do not forget what happened when we were set upon by the marauders in Salt View.”

“He only came to our aid because he needed us alive to lead him to the Sage,” Ryana said.

“But the fact remains that he did come to our aid, on several occasions,” Sorak said. “And all he has really done was follow us.”

“And once we had found the Sage, what would he do then?” Ryana asked.

“I cannot judge a man on what he
might do,
or even what it is probable he will do,” said Sorak. “I can only judge him by what he has done. That is all any of us can do, Ryana. To do otherwise would be to stray too far from the Path. Further, certainly, than I would be willing to go.”

“You are very wise for one so young,” said Kara. “Am I?” Sorak asked. He shook his head. “I am not so sure of that. Sometimes I think that wisdom is merely fear of acting foolishly.”

“The knowledge that one
can
be foolish is the first step on the path to wisdom,” Kara said. “Now come, quickly. It will be growing dark soon, and it is time for you to see the
true
lost treasure of Bodach.”

They hurried outside. It was already late in the afternoon, and the sun was low on the horizon. The shadows were lengthening. And a large bank of dark clouds was moving in from the east, coming in fast over the Sea of Silt.

“A storm is approaching,” Kara said apprehensively.

“It is only a desert monsoon,” replied Ryana. “It will probably pass quickly.”

“I do not think it is the rain she is concerned about,” said Sorak. “Those clouds will blot out the sun, and it will grow dark early.”