abounded about the manner of meat the Hissers savored most. But it proved to be good, hearty dog, served with piles of boiled greens and potatoes – basic Northland fare. When Khirshagk led forth Moriana and Darl, smiling sardonically at the men's scrupulousness, they had fallen to with a will.
'Come, Lady Moriana, Lord Darl,' said the reptilian Instrumentality. 'Here is food that might be more pleasing to your palates.' 'What my men eat is good enough for me,' said Darl.
Moriana hastily cut in. Strange feelings worked inside her, feelings that had no easily definable name. Going along with Khirshagk seemed more important than sharing the table of her stalwart band.
'What Lord Dari says is true. But if you have prepared special dishes for us, we would be honored.' Moriana cast a look at Darl telling him not to argue. He bowed his head slightly in acquiescence.
'This way, then,' said Khirshagk, a tiny smile dancing on his all-too-human lips. He led them down a long corridor and into another part of the keep, a part obviously different from the spot where they left behind their human comrades.
More refined fare awaited the highborn pair: small birds baked in leaves, served whole and smoking; brittle crusted black bread; mushrooms; and a bowl of savory sauce so spicy that Darl and Moriana clutched their throats and hastily swallowed wine at the first taste.
The Instrumentality's circular chamber was forty feet across and carved in the center of a pyramidlike extrusion of green stone. Moriana judged it to be one of the highest points within the keep. A waist-deep circular well was cut into the center of the room. It was here that Khirshagk had seen his guests served on low tables carved of black onyx, while they reclined gratefully on luxurious furs.
Lounging back, Moriana noticed that Khirshagk was drinking only wine. He hadn't joined them in their meal.
'Aren't you hungry, Instrumentality?' she asked warily. 'Surely, such a feast isn't commonplace in Thendrun?'
'It is specially prepared for you,' admitted Khirshagk with some amusement. 'But I have already supped. As you might know, the dining habits of we Zr'gsz differ from yours.'
By no means ignorant of the rumors concerning the Zr'gsz culinary preferences, Moriana forebore to comment.
She noted that Darl ate with an appetite he hadn't shown for some time. She caught his eye and smiled and was happy to see the corners of his mouth turn briefly upward in reply. She turned back to Khirshagk.
'Since you expected us,' she said, meeting Khirshagk's gaze and the challenge she read there, 'no doubt you already know our errand.' Wine swirled as Khirshagk rotated the goblet in lazy circles.
'Our divinations told us much, and we deduced some, as well. We are not wholly unaware of what goes on in the world beyond the limits of our admittedly limited preserve.' He spoke without apparent bitterness. 'Then you know what we've come to ask.'
'We do.' The Instrumentality smiled. 'What remains to be seen is what you have to offer us.'
She nodded deliberately. Her wine cup was empty. She bent forward to set it on the table, aware that Khirshagk's eyes followed the sway of her breasts inside her tunic. She had loosened the lacing in front to allow herself to breathe; now she wondered if that had been politic.
A Zr'gsz woman, slightly built and pale of skin, came to refill her cup. Moriana wondered how she walked across the stony floor without her nails clicking. By human standards, the lizard woman was attractive. A bit blunt of feature, black-eyed and thin-lipped, her jet hair confined at the temples with a stone circlet carved to imitate plaited strands, she moved with inhuman cadence, limbs swishing softly inside a lead-colored smock.
'1 assume that mere riches mean little to you,' said Moriana, retrieving her goblet.
'More than you might think. Not that we care for gold as such. Living stone means far more to us than rock killed by over-refinement, tainted by fire, sullied by movement from one hand to another. But we do have dealings with your kind, more than you probably expect. The yellow metal comes in quite handy at times.' He sipped. 'But your point is well taken. We wouldn't aid you for any wealth you could offer.'
'I haven't much to offer.' She grinned. 'Have your divinations told you that?' She shook her head; the wine made it feel light. 'No, what I have to offer you will value much more than a few gold klenors, I think.' She leaned forward. This time his eyes held hers.
'When my… my ancestors drove yours from the City in the Sky, your folk were constrained to leave behind certain items of ritual significance.'
'At risk of being slaughtered should they have tarried to retrieve them, yes.' His manner was languid, but his eyes glittered with interest beneath half-lowered lids. 'If we win, you'll get them back.'
He drew a deep breath. Setting down his goblet with a clink, he leaned on furs and steepled his fingers before his face.
'Ah, the relics of my people,' he murmured. 'The Jade Mace, the Bell, the Scrolls of Eternity, the Idol of the Blessed Child.' Reverence rang in his words. 'Yes, we value them… much.'
'All are intact, awaiting only you to reclaim them.' She spoke before realizing that the 'Idol of the Blessed Child' referred to what her people called the Vicar of Istu, the ugly stone effigy that squatted in the Well of Winds. The Rite of Dark Assumption, banned since Julanna Etuul had seized the Beryl Throne almost five millennia before, made the idol live for a short period with the spirit of the Demon of the Dark Ones, whom Felarod had imprisoned in sorcerous sleep in the depths of the Sky City. Moriana's sister had revived the rite – with Moriana meant to be the Vicar's sacrifice and bride. Only the timely intervention of Fost Longstrider saved her life. Moriana's thoughts tumbied and swirled thinking of Fost and his valor in saving her from that vile fate.
Ziore's gentle touches on the perimeter of her mind soothed and steadied her.
Moriana licked her lips. Khirshagk watched impassively. How much had his divinations revealed? He had an aura of vast power; she almost tasted it.
'For such inducement we would aid even the get of those who stole the City from us,' said Khirshagk. 'But we can offer little aid if neither of us can reach the City, is it not so?'
'Yes.' She had to fight to say the next words. 'We will help you regain access to the skystone mines, as well.' Darl let out his breath in sharp exhalation, but said nothing. 'You know what that entails.' 'I do.' The words hurt her chest.
'And the Heart?' He curled his fingers down, save for forefingers tipped forward to aim at Moriana like a weapon. 'The Heart of the People, which damned Felarod cast into molten lava in the Throat of the Old Ones, where his monster could keep it ever beyond our grasp? You'll help us retrieve that as well?'
The Heart of the People!
She had thought the tale of the huge night-black diamond, which smoked like a heart plucked beating from a breast and laid on the sacrificial brazier, to be mere legend. Fear seized her. The Heart was reputedly one of the most powerful of all the Dark Ones' gifts to their chosen. Only Istu himself was a greater sign of favor of the Lords of the Elder Dark. She didn't wish to think what bringing the Heart back into the world might imply.
But she had to trust the lizard folk. Closing her eyes and forming a thought, she asked a single question of Ziore. The nun responded.
'I cannot read this being. His motives are hidden behind a veil of blackness.
The princess had to make the decision on her own; even knowing that decision would affect the entire continent – the world! – she had to make it. 'We will,' she whispered.
A soundless shout of exultation rang through Thendrun. Moriana started, looked around. Khirshagk showed no emotion. Darl sat holding his wine goblet negligently in one hand. He had obviously heard nothing. It had been her imagination and nothing more.
'Then let the bargain be sealed.' Khirshagk rose and offered his hand. It bore a ring on the index finger, a dark emerald set in graven obsidian. The gem was worked in likeness of something only barely discernible, a face or a mask. Moriana made herself take his hand with no display of the reluctance she felt.
He lifted her hand, kissed it. His lips were dry but surprisingly soft. He then turned and offered his taloned hand to Darl, who got to his feet and gripped forearms heartily with the Instrumentality. Moriana gulped her wine. The imprint of Khirshagk's kiss burned on the back of her right hand.
They passed the evening in inconsequential talk. Khirshagk spoke with animation and wit, and displayed a surprising knowledge of the affairs of the outside world. Moriana guessed that the Hissers had some intercourse with true men (this made her feel better somehow), though the latter took pains to keep this a secret.
Professing a love for human music, the Instrumentality prevailed on Darl to sing, which the Count-Duke then
