Orb Sceptre Throne

Drin faced something extraordinary — blades damaged it, but it seemed that none could bring it down. No blow could dismember it, or slow it.

Finally, after hours of that macabre dance around the raised plinth, Captain Drin turned his strained, sweat- sheathed face to Ebbin. He mouthed something, perhaps ‘Remember me’. Ebbin wasn’t sure. And though no soldier, he roused himself to salute the man.

The captain nodded in bleak acknowledgement and then, throwing aside his sword, launched himself upon the creature. Legs clamped around the revenant’s waist, he clasped both hands on the mask and worked to yank it free. Ebbin’s heart leapt in admiration: Yes! If he can dislodge the mask before it is set upon his face! Perhaps then this curse will somehow be broken …

Though a bear of a man, Drin was no match for the fiend. One by one, his fingers were prised from their grip on the gold, and the fiend took hold of the mask himself.

Ebbin looked away. Gods! Was there no escape for anyone? Was this to be his end as well?

After waiting a time, his limbs twitching in dread, he could not help but glance up.

All was as it had been before under the arches. A figure lay upon the black stone plinth, dark cloak wrapped tight, gold mask covering its face. But Ebbin knew that Captain Drin, or at least his body, now bore that mask. As for the others, all the countless others who preceded him, well, there was plenty of dust on the floor of the chamber.

The scholar staggered to his feet, gathered up his shoulder bag. There was nothing here. This whole tomb was just one gruesome trap. A trap for those foolish enough to come digging up the past. Everything he had ever hoped for was now shattered. He stumbled for the exit. On the way he froze and his gorge rose again in a wrenching dry heave.

Set in the stone floor of the chamber lay three fresh skulls. The bare bone of two still gleamed wet with gore.

*

After the guards descended, Scorch and Leff peered down into the darkness of the well for a time before wandering over to the shade of a lean-to to return to teaching the two Gadrobi youths how to play troughs. The boys didn’t seem able to grasp the basic arithmetic; or perhaps the problem was their own disagreements over the rules. Humble’s two guards sat down to lean against the stone lip of the well.

Leff tucked an arm under his head, sighed, ‘If only we were still with Her Ladyship, hey? Too bad …’

Scorch threw the carved knuckle dice so hard they bounced from the board to disappear into the dirt. The two youths hunted for them. ‘What was that?’ he answered, his voice low.

‘What was what?’

‘Was that an impercation? ’Cause it sounded like maybe you was makin’ an impercation!’

Leff pushed himself up on his elbows, rolled his eyes. ‘Gettin’ all huffy won’t change the facts, Scorch.’

‘Facts? And just what facts might those be?’

‘That it was you that lost us the job with Lady Varada.’

‘I did not-’ Scorch threw up his arms. ‘Tor explained it. The lady didn’t want so many guards no more. So who gets the axe? Why, us outside guards, right? Plain and simple. That hierarchy thing, right?’

Leff waved that aside. ‘Didn’t you see through all that bullcrap? I did. Tor was just coverin’ up the truth. Sparin’ our feelings.’

His shoulders falling, Scorch frowned, uncertain. ‘Really? Then … what was he really sayin’?’

‘That it was you lost us the job.’

Scorch threw himself aside to sit facing the opposite direction.

Towards noon the old hag came limping up to the lean-to. She shooed the youths away, gabbling in Gadrobi, then turned on Scorch and Leff. ‘You two, get out!’ she spat. ‘You go! Bad things come. I see in the sands. In smoke!’

Scorch and Leff shared a knowing look. ‘Better stay off that fermented goat’s milk,’ Leff said. ‘That kefir can sneak up on ya.’

The old woman waved an angry dismissal. ‘Die then … Daru dogs!’ And she scuttled off.

Leff stretched out, yawning. ‘Keep a watch, Scorch,’ he said, and closed his eyes.

Around mid-afternoon Leff awoke to the screeching of the winch. The guards were raising it. He and Scorch wandered over. It was the scholar, Ebbin. Scorch leaned over to help him out, then lurched as the man seemed to fall into his arms. Leff helped to yank him over the lip of the well and set him down in the dirt where he lay panting, his face gleaming pale as milk.

‘Where’s the captain?’ one of the guards asked.

‘Water,’ Ebbin gasped, and Leff helped him to sit up while Scorch went to fetch a skin. The scholar took a long drink, then splashed his face and pulled out a cloth to wipe it dry. ‘Down below,’ he breathed, hoarse. ‘A trap. They were taken.’

‘Taken?’ the guard echoed.

Ebbin nodded. He appeared on the verge of tears.

‘Show us,’ the guard said.

Ebbin gaped up at him. ‘What?’

The guard stepped back and drew his longsword. Scorch and Leff eyed one another, set their hands on the grips of their shortswords. Ebbin struggled to his feet. ‘Show you?’ He laughed. Rather unnervingly, Leff thought. ‘You have no idea-’

The second guard raised a cocked crossbow. ‘You show us, old man. Or die now.’

Ebbin looked from one to the other, pressed his hands to his face and moaned from behind his fingers: ‘Gods forgive me …’ Then he brushed Scorch’s hand from his weapon. ‘You wish to see?’ he asked the guard. ‘Truly see?’

The man gestured to the well with his longsword. ‘You first.’

‘If you must.’ Ebbin looked at Scorch and Leff. ‘You two. Lower us.’

Leff scratched his cheek, bemused. ‘Well — if you say so, scholar.’

‘Those are my orders.’ He swung his feet up over the stone lip of the well, began readying the sling seat.

‘We come back up first,’ the guard warned.

Ebbin gave a long slow nod. ‘Yes. You first.’

It seemed to Leff that no sooner had the second guard descended than the rope shook with a signal to be raised. He and Scorch rewound the barrel winch to bring it back up and were surprised to see that the occupant of the sling seat was Ebbin. Scorch helped him out.

‘And the guards, sir?’ Leff asked. ‘They saw?’

The scholar was sickly pale and panting once again. He drew a cloth and wiped at his sweaty face. He nodded. ‘Oh yes. They found out what happened to their captain.’

‘So …’ Scorch began, ‘we wait for ’em?’

‘No. They won’t be coming back up.’ Ebbin held his brow, looking faint.

‘You all right, sir?’ Leff asked.

‘No. I … I don’t feel well. I need to get back to Darujhistan.’ He nodded with sudden vigour. ‘Yes. That’s right. I must go to Darujhistan.’

‘We’ll pack up the camp then,’ Leff said.

‘No! You two wait here. Guard the camp. Wait for me. Yes?’

Leff frowned, doubtful. ‘Well … if you say so.’

Ebbin took his forearm. ‘Excellent. Thank you.’ He paused, blinking, then glanced about as if confused. ‘Now, you’ll close up here, yes? You won’t go down?’

Scorch and Leff eyed one another: the man’s mad! ‘No, sir. You don’t have to worry about that. We ain’t goin’ down there.’

‘Good! Good. I knew I could trust you. Now, I must go.’

‘Go? Now?’ Leff raised a brow. ‘Night’s comin’, sir. We really shouldn’t let you go all alone. Can’t you wait till tomorrow?’

Ebbin jerked as if stung. ‘No! I must go! It is important … I feel it.’