realized that he must have been grunting, whispering aloud, and making faces as he considered his options. He opened his mouth to apologize, then shut it again. The man wasn’t looking at him as if he were a gibbering idiot or even an annoyance. In fact, he wasn’t actually looking into his eyes at all. He was looking at Pryce’s chin, averting his gaze as if he were facing some sort of deity.
The man’s mouth was moving as if he were trying to say something. His hands started fluttering like a bird with its wings clipped. Then the arms started making little sweeping motions in front of him. “P-P-P-Please,” he said to Pryce. “I beg your pardon, good sir?”
“No, no, I beg your pardon. Please… I would take it as an honor if you would… take my place in line.” “Really?”
“Please. You would honor me.”
Pryce contemplated this odd but pleasant turn of events. He tried to come up with various reasons for it, but nothing believable was forthcoming. He couldn’t very well turn down the kind offer… that would be unforgivably rude. There was nothing to do but accept the man’s place in line and thank him properly later.
Covington stepped forward, drawing the interest of the next man in line. That man glanced back, started to turn forward again, then whipped his head back toward Pryce as if it had been yanked by a steel cable. He blinked up at Pryce, his mouth dropped open, and he backed up into the person in front of him. That individual whirled around and started to complain, but he saw that the man wasn’t looking at him. He followed the first man’s gaze to Pryce’s visage.
“Byby all the magic in Talath!” the latter man breathed, then took the former man’s arm and pulled them both out of Covington’s way. “Please, sir… if you would…”
“I would be delighted,” Pryce said with feeling. “Thank you very much.” He took position in front of them, standing his tallest, then shook his head with a disbelieving smile. Everyone in Merrickarta had told him that the Lallorians were tighter than an Akhluarian sinkhole, but he was receiving nothing but the utmost courtesy. Well, he was taller than everyone else in line, and from what he could tell, younger as well. And if he were pressed, well, then, sure, better-looking, too.
Pryce cocked his head and smiled with pleasure. That’s when the old woman in front of him noticed him. She looked all the way up his thin figure, then stopped at his face. Her head came out from under her hood like a turtle peering out of its shell. “Itit’s you!”
Pryce looked at her kindly. What could he say, really? “None other,” he replied pleasantly.
She rapidly gathered up her skirts and started to shuffle farther back into the line.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Pryce said earnestly, trying to direct her back to her position in front of him.
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” the woman muttered, still trying to get around him. “I insist… you must…” She feinted to the right, and when Pryce moved in that direction, she slipped by and stood triumphantly beside the others behind him.
Pryce looked at the satisfied little band, who were looking back at him like proud parents, then shrugged and turned toward the gate. He stood there for a few moments with his fists on his hips, then politely tapped the shoulder of the next person in line.
“Hello,” he said.
The person whose shoulder he had tapped only gaped, his jaw dropping, then rising again, like a fish out of water. Finally he stepped aside.
Pryce took an exaggerated step forward. He slowly leaned down, placing his head just over the shoulder of the next person in line. “Excuse me?” he said affably. The man grunted in reply. “How long have you been waiting?” Pryce asked, undeterred. The man grunted again. “Pardon me?” Pryce continued. “I didn’t hear what you said. What was that again?”
“I said” the man began angrily, but by then he had turned to look at the intrusive questioner. “IIII said, uh, I said I shouldn’t be standing in the way of a man of your reputation! Sir, I beg you…”
‘Tour place in line?” Covington suggested, already moving forward. “You’re too kind.” It seemed that youth, vitality, and pleasant looks were at a premium at the Lallor Gate. Pryce rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Cushy job for life indeed! If the respect and kindnesses of these people were any evidence, he was going to like it here… a lot!
He wasn’t even daunted by the grave gate guard who got closer and closer as each successive person saw Pryce, did a double take, and then offered him his or her place in line. The only thing that gave him pause was what looked like a difficult test that awaited him when he reached the one person between him and the big-eyed gate itself.
The first man in linea skinny, nervous sort with an Adam’s apple that skipped up and down like a bouncing ballcouldn’t give up his place because he was already in the midst of the entry examination. It soon became abundantly clear that access to Lallor came only after a thorough explanation of who you were and a complete examination of what you could be.
An admissions clerk in a thick, elegant hooded vestment sat behind a floating slab of marble, upon which rested a pile of parchment. The man’s face was living proof of the law of gravity. Everything was sinking on his wizened visage, from the bags under his watery blue eyes to the jowls that hung like a hairless beard on either side of a mouth that looked like an upside-down horseshoe.
Standing slightly behind this clearly disapproving character was a stone golem, a more classic example of which Pryce could hardly imagine. Nine and a half feet tall, at least two thousand pounds, and chiseled to look like a cross between a gigantic headstone and a huge tree trunk, it loomed menacingly between the clerk and the gate.
Its rock eyes were closed, its nose flat and wide, and its long lips gave an impression of being slightly irked. Its body had only the merest suggestion of legs, giving Pryce the distinct feeling that it could not be tipped or knocked over. The most impressive and noticeable aspect of the thing, however, was its hands. They were huge and flat, seemingly made to create thunder if the creature ever applauded. Covington could imagine a Lallor invader getting his head turned to flatbread by a single resounding clap. The monstrous golem had the effect it was no doubt created for: to discourage anyone except the most foolhardy or suicidal from making a run for the freedom and prosperity that Lallor promised.
Pryce’s previous bravado disappeared like a popping soap bubble. He gritted his teeth in concern and drew in a long breath. Then he became aware of the admissions clerk’s questions to the only person who remained between Pryce and the head of the line.
“Race?” The gatekeeper’s voice was similar to his face: heavy, thick, and deep.
“Human,” the small, bent, thin person in front of Pryce said quickly and quietly, manhandling his hat nervously.
The clerk suddenly went on quickly, as if the nervous man hadn’t spoken. “A, dwarf; B, elf; C, gnome; D, half-elf; E, halfling; F, human; G, other.”
“Uh, that would be F, sir. Yes, definitely F.”
The clerk ignored the dithering. He seemed only to hear the letter “F” and duly marked it down with a quill pen. Then he continued the interrogation, his voice again somber and slow. “Class?”
The man waited for the clerk to continue, but when he didn’t, the befuddled person felt compelled to say, “Some schooling, sir…”
“A, bard; B, priest; C, vagabond; D, warrior; E, wizard; F, other.”
“Oh! Uh… C, I suppose… No, A! Yes, that’s right, A” The clerk stopped dead, then looked up slowly, ominously. “Well, which is it? A or C?”
The skinny man’s eyes flicked nervously to the expressionless, motionless golem. “I have traveled many miles, sir,” he said with a wan smile. “I wish to be an entertainer for the good people within the city.”
The clerk stared at him silently. Pryce found himself holding his breath, but suddenly the silence was broken as the clerk sonorously said “C,” marked it down, then continued quickly. “Are you, or have you ever known, a thief?”
The nervous man chirped, “No, sir!”
“Do you possess skills in pickpocketing, lock opening, trap removal, camouflage, wall climbing, shadow hiding, or silent movement?” Pryce inwardly winced at mention of the second item, plus the last three. He began to work his mouth nervously, stretching his lips across his teeth, in preparation for the coming interview. This was not going to be easy… not with that big eye above them, watching for any sign of discomfort, and the golem below,
