reserve-but, how it is you have come to me in such a state? What long roads have brought my favorite son of the Empire to my humble self?”
“I regret that my mission requires urgency, oh great Caliph,” Soen said, letting a hint of deference into his voice. “I would have made myself more presentable to you, but I am on the Emperor’s errand and time is against me.”
“The Emperor’s errand!” Argos’ rubbery face affected astonishment as he waved the Iblisi to approach him. “Perhaps from the Imperial City itself?”
“Yes, oh great Caliph,” Soen began.
“Ah, to visit the heart of the Empire!” Argos opined. “To see its towers and walk its streets! I have heard of your citadels that float among the clouds and the magic of your Aether that flows like water from your Wells. I should dearly love one day to make the journey and stand among my fellow citizens!”
Soen gripped his staff until his fingers lost all color. Argos was a citizen of the Empire, but only just; he was considered to be of the Sixth Estate-technically a citizen by the laws of the Empire but devoid of any real rights. It was reserved largely for elves who had no social station whatever and was the last refuge of elven criminals. It was also a status held out as a reward to slaves who had performed some heinous deed for the Empire: betrayal, murder, assassination, spying, and the like. It was rarely granted to slaves-and was relatively meaningless when it was given.
“Perhaps the Caliph shall see it one day,” Soen said as evenly as he could. “But the way is long and arduous. I myself had some trouble along the way. .”
“No! May the gods forbid!”
“The Northmarch Folds can be treacherous,” Soen advised. “And dusty, as you can see. . but my need is great and my time short.”
“Then come at once, my friend! I shall forgive at once your ill manners to the need of haste and history-for no doubt you are on a mission that impacts both!”
Soen tried for a moment to make sense out of Argos’ words but realized it was pointless. The Caliph often misspoke-a problem that had been the root cause of several assassination attempts. The Inquisitor simply took in a long breath, nodded, and walked quickly toward the short ruler with his staff in hand. “Oh great Caliph, your words are as wise as they are meaningful. You have no doubt already divined that I have come to request a boon of your eminent self.”
Argos frowned uncertainly.
“I need a favor,” Soen urged.
“Ah!” The Caliph’s face brightened. “Of course! I am most anxious to assist the Will of the Emperor in all things! You have but to ask, and Argos Helm shall grant all that is in my power to give! Please. . sit with me as brothers and we shall discuss your needs.”
The Caliph indicated three curved benches set at one side of the hall. Together they formed a broken circle-a
The tall elven Inquisitor sat down on one of the benches. It was, unfortunately, built to gnome specifications. Soen was more stooping than sitting. Argos took no notice of his guest’s discomfiture and plopped himself down on an opposite bench.
“There!” Argos leaned forward and spoke quietly. “What favor might I do for my good friend Soen?”
“I am looking for a man,” Soen began.
“A man?” Argos interrupted, stroking his beard. “I don’t know about a man. I can get you a woman-a good number of them, in fact, I should think-but ours is a backward people not as enlightened as the heart of the great Rhonas Imperium.”
“No, Argos. .”
“Just give me a moment, friend. . I may be able to come up with a man for you. .”
“No!” Soen began fingering his staff once more. “I am looking for a specific man. . a human bolter.”
Argos’ eyes were losing focus. “Bolter. . bolter. .”
“A runaway slave,” Soen continued. “A human male. We believe he and a number of fellow travelers left the Murialis Woods and were making their way into Vestasia.”
“Murialis. .” Argos repeated as he nodded his head vaguely. Suddenly his eyes focused, shifting to stare at the Iblisi. “Murialis?
“Yes,” Soen continued. “I believe they may have been traveling north.”
“But that’s over one hundred and seventy leagues from here!” Argos laughed incredulously.
“Yes,” Soen agreed, “and it is land with which I am not familiar. What can you tell me about it?”
Argos leaned back, his face turned upward as he considered the question. He began stroking his beard with his left hand as though trying to pull some answer out of it. “Ah, you believe your quarry is in the Great Savanna.”
Soen nodded. “If that is to the north of Murialis lands, then yes.”
“Difficult place, that savanna,” Argos mused. “You’ll need to travel south around the edge of Gnevis Bay, then follow the Lynadio River inland until you cross at the confluence. West, beyond the river is the Great Savanna. . filled with wild creatures and death. Perhaps you would like some men to accompany you-our finest warrior guards and at a most reasonable price! I could get you some women also, but that would be more difficult and, naturally, more expensive. .”
“No,” Soen said, his sharp teeth grinding slightly as he spoke. “I don’t need an army-just your-your most excellent advice. Have you any news of my prey? There are three humans, a pair of manticores, and a chimerian who. .”
“A chimerian?” Argos laughed. “That sounds like the beginning of a joke.”
“I assure you it is not,” Soen snapped then drew in a breath. “Have you any word of such strangers?”
“In the savanna?” Argos chuckled. “No one cares what happens in the savanna!”
“Isn’t there anyone. . any tribes who might have seen my prey?”
“Ah, perhaps the Hak’kaarin,” Argos said with a disdainful sniff.
“Hak’kaarin?” Soen urged.
“Foolish creatures. . you could barely call them gnomes really,” Argos shrugged. “Mud gnomes of the great savanna. Backward savages that constantly wander the savanna wastes traveling from mudpile to mudpile. They have no appreciation for property, no understanding of the finer things of the world. Uncivilized and unworthy of your attentions, my friend. They cover the savanna like a river of idiots, never stopping long enough to build anything of value. But if anyone will have seen your. . ‘bolters’ did you call them?. . the savages of the Hak’kaarin will know of it.”
The doors were closed, and at last, Argos pulled himself back up onto his throne and sat on it with satisfaction.
The gnome Caliph relished the moment. After all, he had a family tradition to uphold. All of his Helm ancestors had been brilliant politicians and strategists, he reasoned, otherwise how could they have stayed in power so long? So he, too, had to be as masterful and cunning as his forebears.
This time he was more cunning than them all-for he would outsmart an Iblisi.
“Fon!” the Caliph yelled, and at his word a gnome guard appeared from a side door, resplendent in his ridiculous armor.
“Yes, oh great Caliph!” Fon barked.
“There is an elf awaiting word from me in the Shadow Caves-do you know them? They’re in the gully north of the city.”
“I know them, oh great Caliph!”
“Tell him his friend journeys into the Great Savanna,” the Caliph grinned. “And tell him to follow the trails of the Hak’kaarin.”
The gnome bit his lower lip for a moment. “Oh great Caliph. . how will I know I have the right elf?”
“You idiot!” Argos screamed. “How many elves are there in this province?”
“Sorry, my Caliph!” the gnome mumbled.
