gardens.
Something had battered down a long section of wall, and a crib full of yellow fruit shaped like corkscrews had been plundered. Slippery pulp and seeds were splashed all over the place.
The tree-men's leader, the one Kitiara had cut, halted before the door of the keep. The gate consisted of overlap ping slabs of red glass, hanging from hinges of the same material. The tree-man boomed, 'King! Men, iron come.'
Without waiting for any reply, the tree-man leaned on the gate, and it swung in. The tree-man did not enter himself, but stood back, and with a sweep of his arm indicated that the visitors should go in.
Kitiara slipped in, her back pressed against the rough stone wall. With a practiced eye for danger, she surveyed the scene. The interior was well lit, as it had no roof. The walls rose ten feet and slanted in, but no thatch or shingles kept out the sun. The room she'd entered was actually a cor ridor, branching off to the left and right. The facing wall was blank, though smoothly plastered with gritty mortar painted white.
'It's clear,' she reported. Her voice was taut and low.
Sturm let the gnomes enter.
'Man.' Sturm looked up at the impassive eyes of the tree man. 'Iron king. Him.' It pointed left.
'I understand. Thank you.' The tree-man tapped his long, jointed finger on the gate and Sturm pushed it shut.
'Our host will be found down the left corridor,' he said.
'Everyone, be on your guard!' Kitiara moved to the end of the line, steeled for signs of treachery. The hall turned right and widened. The high walls and lack of ceiling made Sturm feel as if he were in a maze.
They came upon an unexpectedly familiar artifact: a low, thick door made of oak and strapped with iron hinges. This relic leaned against the wall. Fitter peeked behind it.
'It doesn't lead anywhere,' he said.
'There's something familiar about it,' mused Cutwood.
'You silly loon, of course it's familiar. You've seen doors before!' said Bellcrank.
'No, it's the style that's familiar. I have it! This is a ship's door!' he announced.
'It's not from the Cloudmaster, is it?' Sturm said, alarmed.
'No, this door is oak, the Cloudmaster's are pine.'
'Now how would a ship's door get on the red moon?'
Wingover asked rhetorically. Cutwood was composing an answer when Kitiara shooed him on.
They passed more debris from their world: empty kegs, clay pots and cups, tatters of canvas and scraps of leather, a rusty, broken cutlass. Some coils of rope were identified by an eager Roperig as ship's cordage made in southern Ergoth.
Excitement mounted as more and more tantalizing things cropped up.
The corridor turned right again, this time into a wide room. There, standing by an overturned wooden chair, was a man. A genuine man, short and scrawny. He was dressed in a dirty tan vest and cut-off pants, rope sandals, and a peaked canvas cap. His face was dirty and his gray-streaked beard came down almost to his stomach.
'Heh, heh, heh,' rasped the man. 'Visitors at last. I've been wanting visitors for a long, long time!'
'Who are you?' asked Sturm.
'Me? Me? Why, I'm the King of Lunitari,' proclaimed the tattered scarecrow.
Chapter 14
'You don't believe me,' said the self-proclaimed monarch.
'You hardly conform to the stereotypical archetype,' said
Sighter. The king of Lunitari cocked his head.
'What'd you say?' he asked.
'You don't look like a king,' Sturm interpreted.
'Well I am! Rapaldo the First, mariner, shipwright, and absolute ruler of the red moon, that's me.' He approached the band in a nervous, hesitant shuffle. 'Who are you?'
The gnomes eagerly pushed themselves up to King
Rapaldo, shaking hands in quick succession and rattling off the shorter versions of their impossibly long names.
Rapaldo's eyes glazed over from the barrage.
Sturm cleared his throat and gently steered Fitter, the last gnome, away from the bewildered man. 'Sturm Brightblade of Solamnia,' he said of himself.
Kitiara stepped forward and pushed back her fur collar.
Rapaldo gasped aloud. 'Kitiara Uth Matar,' she said.
'L–Lady,' Rapaldo stammered. 'I have not seen a real lady in many, many years.'
'I'm not sure you're seeing one now,' Kitiara said with a laugh. Rapaldo gently took her hand. He held it carefully, looking at the back and palm with embarrassing intentness.
Kitiara's hands were not refined or delicate. They were the strong, supple hands of a warrior. Rapaldo's reverent inter est amused her.
As if suddenly aware that he was being foolish, Rapaldo dropped Kitiara's hand and drew himself up to his full height — not much more than five and a half feet — and announced, 'If you would follow me to the royal audience hall, I'll hear the story of your coming here, and tell the tale of my own shipwreck.' He went back to his overturned chair and righted it. 'This way,' said the king of Lunitari.
They followed Rapaldo through a series of mostly empty rooms, all open to the sky. What furniture there was had a nautical cast to it, here a seaman's chest, there a railed cap tain's chair. Other bits of ship were hung on the wall. A brass hawse pipe liner, some loops of anchor chain, a lathe turned rail studded with iron spikes.
Bellcrank tugged on Sturm's sleeve. 'Metal,' he whis pered. 'Lots of it.'
'I see it,' Sturm said calmly.
'This way. This way,' Rapaldo said, gesturing.
The very center of the keep was the audience hall, a square room ten yards wide. When Rapaldo entered, a half dozen tree-men snapped glass spears to their nonexistent shoulders in salute. They hooted in unison three times, and dropped their spears to a ported position.
'My palace guard,' Rapaldo said with pride.
'Are they intelligent?' asked Wingover.
'Not like you and I are. They learn things I teach them, remember orders, and such like, but they weren't civilized when I first came here.'
At the far end of the room, a crude throne was set up, a high-backed chair mounted on a thick rectangle of ruby glass. The chair had obviously been cobbled together from ship's timbers; the peg holes from the trenails were still visi ble.
Rapaldo hopped upon the glass pedestal and picked up his scepter from the seat of the chair. He turned around and sat down with a sigh, laying the emblem of his office in the crook of his arm. It was a broadhead axe.
'Hear ye, hear ye. The royal court of Lunitari may begin,'
Rapaldo recited in a high-pitched voice. He coughed once, and his skinny chest convulsed. 'I, King Rapaldo the First, am present and speaking.
'In honor of the unexpected guests who have arrived today, I, King Rapaldo, will relate the marvelous tale of my coming to this place.' Roperig and Fitter, sensing that a long story was beginning, sat down.
Rapaldo leaped to his feet. 'You will stand in the presence of the king!' he shouted, punctuating the command with a sweep of his scepter-axe. The two gnomes stood with alacri ty. Rapaldo shivered with fury. 'Those who do not show respect will be removed by the Royal Guard!'
Sturm flashed Kitiara a knowing look. She bowed and said, 'Forgive us, Your Majesty. We've not been in the
