Rurk, nor come across a settlement of plumeweavers, camouflaged by a ridge of rocks that obscures them for miles.'
'I'm afraid things are not quite that simple,' Rurk replied. 'Of course, I desire your discretion, but I also desire one of your companions.'
Shurleen dropped her cup and looked up in amazement and fear.
Rurk looked to her the way one might look at an uneasy child.
'Yes, my dear,' he replied. 'I have no illusions that your flirtations masked anything except your girlish ego, and that if given the chance to choose, you would undoubtedly desire to continue along your way with your companions. Fortunately for me, I hold all the cards, and I think it will be better if you stay.'
'Why, you!' Curtis yelled, jumping to his feet, and about to rush to Rurk's end of the table.
Rurk clapped his hands, and six Tethyrian mercenaries appeared, fully armed with bows and arrows fletched with enchanted plumes.
'These are some of the men who joined me on my excursion. I wouldn't advise causing any trouble as their arrows are fletched for accuracy by means of enchantment.'
'Curtis, sit down!' Volo ordered. 'What do you want, Rurk?'
Curtis resumed his seat as Rurk made his pitch. 'Sometimes it's boring being a god for these primitive savages,' Rurk said. 'Sometimes I need a little challenge.'
'Get to the point,' Volo pressed.
'Of course,' Rurk conceded. 'Of course I would love to take the lovely Miss Bleth as my mistress, but I'm sure you wouldn't stand for that.'
'Right,' Volo agreed.
'Not that you can really do anything about it. One of my men is a rather powerful chemist who could undoubtedly come up with a potion that will make her my slave in a matter of moments… but that wouldn't be sporting. What I suggest is that you three take part in a game against three of my best athletes tomorrow. It's called the ball game. You might have heard of it.'
'I have,' Volo replied.
'Good,' Rurk continued. 'If you win, you are free to go, if not, the lovely Shurleen becomes my mistress.'
'No!' Shurleen screamed, bursting into tears. She was quickly spirited away by several of Rurk's more attractive female servants, evidently his other mistresses.
Volo fingered his beard for a moment and thought.
'How about this?' the master traveler counter-offered. 'If we win, you will have your plume-weavers weave us a raft that will be capable of flying us back to Faerun.'
'One already exists,' Rurk interrupted, 'you never know when you will have to make a fast getaway. Sometimes even peaceful and stupid savages like these get restless.'
'One might say that this would be fairer compensation for our efforts,' Volo pointed out.
'Agreed,' Rurk assented. 'The game will be tomorrow at midday out on the field we passed getting here. You three against my champions, those tall fellows over there.'
Volo and his companions turned to see the individuals that he was referring to. Each was a good foot taller than any of the natives they had seen so far, and all were built like oxen.
'Don't let their bulk fool you,' Rurk pointed out. 'They have the reflexes and speed of jaguar men.'
'Wonderful,' Passepout replied, sensing imminent doom.
'And one more thing,' Rurk added. 'My home court has a particular rule attached to all games. You lose, you die. Death before dishonor.'
Passepout fainted, and Curtis revived him with a cup of water.
The three companions ate the rest of their meal in silence, all along Volo fingering his beard in thought, as if trying to come up with a plan.
As the meal was brought to a close, Rurk stood up and said, 'I assure you that no harm will come to Miss Bleth tonight. I am more than willing to wait to collect the victor's spoils.'
'That goes without saying,' Volo replied, adding, 'One thing, though. I understand that the game is played in sandals. Would it be possible for us to obtain three pairs in the morning, so that we can break them in for the game?'
'But of course,' Rurk replied. 'What kind of host would I be not to grant such a simple request?'
Once again Rurk clapped his hands, and Herve appeared to lead Volo and the others back to their room.
Chapter 19
True to Rurk's word, the following morning three pairs of sandals were delivered to the challengers' room.
'What are we going to do?' Passepout pleaded.
'Call your servant,' Volo instructed.
'Why?' the chubby thespian asked. 'Did you see the face on that one? I hate to think that was the last female on my mind when I meet my maker, which is apparently going to be way too soon for my tastes.'
'Just do it!' Volo ordered, continuing to finger his beard in nervous contemplation.
'And what about Shurleen?' Curtis demanded. 'We can't let Rurk enslave her!'
'And there is nothing we can do about it if we happen to be dead, right?' Volo countered. 'Therefore, our main objective at the moment should be staying alive.'
'Here she is,' Passepout said, having returned with his warthog-faced, would-be paramour.
'Good,' Volo replied. He took her aside, making his needs known to her in sign language. She continued to nod in agreement, occasionally tossing a glance and a wink in the chubby thespian's direction.
Volo and the servant began to leave. 'We'll be right back,' Volo called. 'We have a bit of sandal customizing to do.'
With that they left.
'Well, I never heard it referred to as that,' Passepout commented.
'Somehow I wouldn't have thought of her as his type,' Curtis agreed.
'By the way,' Passepout asked, 'what is this ball game in which we are supposed to meet our deaths?'
'I haven't the foggiest idea,' Curtis replied.
Volo returned with the sandals in a little less than an hour.
'Well, it's about time!' Passepout said sarcastically.
'You sound a bit jealous,' Curtis jibed the chubby thespian. 'I thought she wasn't your type?'
'Can it!' Volo ordered. 'Time is short, and we have a plan to work out. The odds are against us, and the deck is stacked in their favor, but with a little luck, I think we can bounce our way to victory. Now listen.'
The ball game, as Volo explained, was the major accepted form of entertainment for all Mazticans. Though on the surface it appeared to be only a contest or sport, the human cultures of the continent had invested in it a great deal of significance as a religious ritual and as a means of dispute arbitration through divine intervention. The game was usually played with a hard, round ball roughly six inches in diameter, made from the congealed sap of a rubber tree. It was the object of opposing team players to maneuver the ball without the use of their hands or feet through the opposing team's goal line. The first team to score three goals would win.
There was, however, another option for winning. Midway down the walls that line the court was a stone ring roughly fifteen feet above the playing field. The first team to score a goal through the ring would win.
'Just looking at the opposition, I can tell it is their intention to bulldoze their way down the field each play to pummel home a shot on our goal,' Volo explained.
'And there doesn't seem to be much we can do to stand in their way,' Passepout observed.
'Almost,' Volo replied. 'The first thing I have to do is to get Rurk to up the ante. Normally, victory is only
