“Hey two-tone, you call that poetry?” The girl made a rudenoise. “You know, if I was powerful enough to project images of my swelled headall over the universe, I think I’d spend a bit more time in polishing my prose!”
The image turned hungry, knowing eyes upon the faerie and seemed… pleased.
“You too, little one. Take the test of the mountain. Retrievethe three prizes. Who knows? Even
The face faded away, leaving nothing but darkness, a thrashing juggernaut, and a growing drip and hiss of water. Escalla blinked into the gloom.
“‘Contribute to the Overman’? ‘Provide worthy substance’?”The faerie bit her lip. “I really wish he’d phrased those invitationsdifferently.”
A section of wall beside the juggernaut suddenly collapsed. Above the monster, a stone block fell from the ceiling, and river water streamed onto the tunnel floor. Jus grabbed for Escalla’s hand and towed her rapidly downthe passage, accelerating to a run as more and more stones could be heard collapsing far behind.
Escalla tried to look back “What about those maps?”
“We’re leaving!” Jus broke into the main corridor that ledback to the library. Allain the lawman still stood waiting in the door. He saw Jus running toward him, and an instant later he saw the river water spilling out of the passageways. As a distant ceiling collapsed inward with a watery crash, all three explorers fled back into the room beneath the blazing library. Jus held Cinders’ pelt up as a shield for his companions as they struggled out ofthe secret room and up into the flames.
The library shelves were burning in earnest now. Fire had spread to the ceiling and the tapestries, the window shutters, and the walls. Jus led his companions through the heat and sagging doors out into the sun.
Soot stained, blood-spattered, and near exhaustion, Jus stumbled to the bottom of the steps and leaned upon his sword. The library burned behind him while big bubbles rose from a new whirlpool out in the river shallows. Cinders wagged his tail, happily basking in the heat of the burning building.
Drawing the stares of a shocked crowd, Escalla fluttered down to land upon the Justicar’s shoulders.
“Hey, troops! We’ve had breakfast, we’ve fought a demon, andwe’ve burned your library down.” The faerie gave a tired sigh. “What now?”
Allain cleared his throat. “We should see the baron. Tell himabout your mission.” The young man looked back at the burning library. “He’llknow what to do.”
Jus sheathed his sword and shrugged. For the moment, there might be advantages to cooperating with the law. The Justicar settled Escalla on his shoulder, dusted ashes out of Cinders’ fur, and led the way down into amarketplace still streaked and smeared with blood.
11
Over the past twenty years, the county of Urnst had survivedinvasion by Iuz, raids from the Bandit Kingdoms, strifes internal and external, and a hundred other problems big and small. The countess-an old, sharp- tonguedwoman with little patience for fools-kept her capital in the west where shecould keep a sharp watch upon her taxes.
The great headache of her realm was Trigol, a city governed in the countess’ name by a baron. The post had little to recommend it. Banditraids, refugees, and civic riots were rife. The baron’s daily life was anythingbut restful.
The central keep of Trigol served as the administrative center for the entire southeastern marches. There was a constant traffic of couriers and patrols. Military scouts and sorcerers came in to file their reports while squads of crossbowmen patrolled the walls. As darkness fell over the city, the keep sheathed itself in light. With new wars gathering on the borders, nighttime brought no rest to the hard-worked garrison.
The keep’s main hall had been cleared of its usual clutter ofmess tables. A heavy bench stood in the middle of the hall, and here sat the throne of the baron. The baron himself-a surly, thickset man with a neatlypointed beard-sat sternly in place, leaning his elbows on the table andglowering at a dozen arguing, shouting men. To give himself patience, the man drank wine-and had apparently been drinking ever since the riots a dozen hoursbefore.
Soldiers sat along the table beside priests, scholars, and sorcerers. Cinders lay like a rug in front of the hearth. Two large hunting dogs sat nose to nose with him, staring at him in puzzled amazement and anxiously wagging their tails. As silent as the baron, the Justicar crouched beside the great hall’s hearth and fed hot embers to his hell hound skin.
Having set up shop on a side table all her own, Escalla had gathered a choice selection of wines, glazed fruits, and other sticky treats. She ignored the arguments behind her and stuffed her face, occasionally casting an eye at the baron’s silver cutlery.
A civil war of apocalyptic proportions was about to grip Trigol. The temples of Geshtai and Bleredd, with their thousands of worshipers, were preaching holy war against each other. The baron had heard their first screams of outrage as each had decried the other’s crimes, and now he made alast attempt to enforce a parley.
At the conference table, a high priest of Geshtai faced a high priest of Bleredd, each man staring at the other with a look of unremitting hate. Both men were wealthy refugees from the lost Duchy of Tenh. Fat and gorgeously decked out in robes, rings, jewels, and vestments, they left to their underlings the tasks of screaming threats, hurling invectives, and demanding justice from the baron. Instead, the two priests stared at one another in silence, the air between them shimmering with half-formed spells.
So far, the meeting had been utterly futile. The heralds of the two temples roared at each other almost continuously.
Slamming at the tabletop, the Bleredd representative turned scarlet with outrage and shouted, “War! This time we will wipe Geshtai’ssacrilege from the face of the city!” Gold rings encrusting the herald’s fistsleft scars upon the table. “The hammer Whelm has been stolen by agents ofGeshtai’s temple! We have eyewitnesses who saw Geshtai priests fleeing with thesacred hammer!”
“Lies.” The Geshtai herald made up in pure disdain what helacked in fury. “Piddling lackeys of a third-rate god, they have stolen thetrident from our treasury and now invent tales to distract attention from their crime.”
This brought about the inevitable fresh burst of anger. Clerks and witnesses from both the temples shouted out their evidence, and the baron could only breathe hard, drink deep, and try to sift evidence from invective. Finally, he hammered on the tabletop with a heavy iron mace, tearing a fresh set of scars on the walnut table. The noise brought no results until the man roared in a voice more used to parade grounds than palaces.
An offended silence fell.
“Quiet!” The baron slammed his mace flat upon the conferencetable. “If neither of you are lying, then you have each raided one another’stemples! If both weapons have been stolen, then you are both even.”
“Search our treasury!” The Geshtai herald rose, his wholebeing seething with hate. “Cast scrying spells. You will not find Bleredd’shammer in our halls!”
“They have shielded it from spells!” Bleredd’s herald threwopen his arms in rage. “Where is justice? If the army will not help us, then thetemple will take the law into its own hands!”
The baron leaned forward across the table and said, “Transgressions against the civic peace will not be tolerated. If either of youmove against the others temple, if you riot once again, the city guard will fight you! Both of you will be declared enemies of the state!”
There was a confident sneer from the priests.
“It will take more troops than you have here to take downBleredd’s temple… or Geshtai’s.” The Geshtai herald spewed forth his wordslike poison. “Will you run whining to the countess, my lord? What will she thinkof a man who cannot even keep the peace in his own city?”
The baron wrenched his mace up from the table, only to be held in place by a interruption from the far end of the conference room. A young man stood, deliberately blocking the way between the baron and the herald.
