Wolves of the Gods

included-their faces clouded with bewilderment. 'All of us understand!' Which made the looks become even more bewildered.

'This is good,' Coralean said. 'Understanding is a virtue I praise above all others.'

He plucked a long, fat leather-bound tube from his belt. It had hinged stoppers of brass on either side.

He casually flipped it from end to end, then handed it to Safar.

'Here,' he said, 'a gift from Coralean to seal his side of the bargain.'

Safar eyed him, but the old pirate's face was blank. He unsnapped one end of the tube, peered inside, then unscrewed a thick sheaf of parchment papers. He fanned them out, the other men bending close to look.

'Why they're maps,' Foron said. 'What do we need with maps?'

Coralean shrugged. 'Worthless things,' he said, 'if you plan to stay in one place. But if you intend to travel, why I expect you might find them of some value.'

'These are caravan maps,' Safar said. 'Worth a fortune to any trader.'

'You will note,' Coralean said, bending forward and poking at one of the maps, 'the detail of these maps. They show all of Esmir, including the most secret trading routes favored by peace-loving merchantmen like myself. Why bother with bandits and greedy local overlords if you can skip them out by choosing another path? And if one were being followed by a fierce competitor, why you could quickly shake him off by using an unexpected route.'

Safar quickly scanned the maps, which showed in detail the whole northern region-from the Gods Divide to the port of Caspan where ships might be for hire to get him to Syrapis. He also marked the cities Asper had said he must visit on the way-Naadan and Caluz. It would be an extremely difficult undertaking, only made possible by the many hiding places along the route which were detailed on the maps.

He rolled the maps up and slipped them back into the tube. 'What do you desire in return?' he asked.

Coralean slapped his knee and roared laughter. 'Why isn't obvious, my good friend? I want your favor. If someday I stand before you a ruined man, I'll expect your help.'

Safar made a thin smile. 'In case things don't work out for Iraj, you mean?'

Coralean shrugged a mighty shrug. 'Who can say what the morrow will bring, brother? At the moment, Iraj Protarus seems to have the upper hand. He's regained a good portion of his kingdom and nothing seems to stand in the way of his winning all of it back. Few kings dare defy him and those that do are guaranteed a horrid end.

'Also, his magic, I'm told, is most powerful. I've even heard rumors that he is a shape changer. Wolf and man in the same body. This could be true, it could be false. However you look at it, rumors are bad for business. And if he is a shape changer, why, how does an honest businessman know if he'll abide by his word? Did I make a contract with a man, or a wolf? Or something in between?'

Coralean sighed. 'And so I come to my dearest friend, Safar Timura, for whom I have done many favors in the past. True, he is a wizard. But a most amiable one who has never meant old Coralean anything but the best. I'm sure a man as great as that will understand Coralean can do the bidding of Iraj Protarus and still look out for his good friend.'

Now it was Safar's turn to slap his knee and roar laughter. 'You win either way, right? No matter who loses, you win?'

Coralean made a long face. 'I suppose you could look at it that way,' he said. 'But it would spoil the spirit of the bargain. I truly hope you win, Safar Timura. I doubt if you will, but there is a slight chance, considering that Iraj lost out to you once before. You will appreciate, I hope, the elegance of my bargain.'

He gestured at the maps. 'Coralean gives you freedom! In any direction you choose to take. I ask only your word in return. Your word that someday, if required, I may call on your favor.'

'Consider it a bargain, my friend,' Safar said. 'And no hard feelings if it doesn't work out my way.'

Coralean beamed. 'I am most pleased!' he said. 'I made a wise investment in you when you were young and I paid for your education in Walaria.' He brushed his hands together and rose heavily to his feet.

'Please, gentlemen,' he said to the Elders, 'I hope you will forgive Kyrania's oldest and dearest friend, but I must be on my way. Please make my apologies to your people, but the caravan must not tarry.

We're off to Caspan where Coralean's wives wait with much anxiety for his return. I'll leave some fine food and drink for you all, in hopes that you will toast Coralean's health. Bull that I am, I will need it desperately for my loving wives when they welcome me home.'

Safar rose with him and Coralean grasped his hand, squeezing hard. 'Before I depart, I will send a runner to Iraj's camp with my report. Unfortunately, the runner I have in mind-alas, the only man I can spare-is rather elderly and infirm, so it may take a little time for him to reach the king.'

'What will the report say?' Safar asked.

'Coralean is not a man who lies,' he said. 'I will tell him that I delivered his proposal. And the Council of Elders is presently meeting to consider his magnificent offer.'

'How much time do you think we have?' Safar asked.

Coralean shrugged his apologies. 'Not much for you,' he said. 'But quite sufficient for me. I am a minor spot for Iraj to consider. His thoughts are full of you, so it isn't difficult for me to slip out the side door while he's thinking.'

He made a face. 'What can I say? I have a family to care for. Children enough to fill a villa with Coraleans and wives anxious to produce more.' He sighed. 'Few men appreciate the burdens I bear.

The responsibilities are endless.'

'Do you really believe,' Safar asked, 'that Iraj will wait two days or more for your messenger?'

Coralean lumbered to his feet. 'That's another reason I must hurry on my way,' he said. 'Your former master has been known to apply a little pressure when he's negotiating. So if you will forgive me, my dear friends, I must say goodbye and make haste!'

The old caravan master stepped forward and embraced Safar in a great bear hug. 'Good fortune, traveler,' he said, in the age old blessing of the road. 'Good fortune!'

Then he was gone.

Chaos followed as the Council of Elders turned into mere men-and frightened men at that! They all gathered around Safar, shouting questions and opinions and any nonsense that came into their heads. It was plain to them now that Iraj would attack no matter what they did.

Safar felt his energy creeping back, and with it, his confidence.

'Call all the people together,' he said-no, he commanded, his old authority of office settling onto his shoulders like a royal robe.

'We must act now, or all is lost!'

CHAPTER EIGHT

BONES OF FORTUNE

They were the People of the Clouds; the men, women, lads and maids and wailing babes who made up Kyrania. When they gathered in the old stone fort there were just a little over a thousand of them. For many generations they had lived apart from the rest of the world. They lived up, up in that bowl of fruit and blossoms they called home where no evil could easily reach them.

But at long last darkness had descended and they were blind and stumbling, not knowing what to do.

Although he was one of them, Safar steeled himself against all empathy as they filed silently into the arena.

There was no time for wasted emotion or leisurely debate by the tradition-bound Council of Elders.

If his people were to survive he must rally them to accomplish the impossible. First, they must defend themselves against Protarus. Second … Well, he'd get to what came next-the most daunting task of all-if they lasted the night.

He watched his people stream into the old fort and take their places on the big parade ground, pounded smooth by generations of young Kyranian boys who had trained here to defend their homeland. The fort had been built long ago, perhaps even before the time of Alisarrian, and only the battered walls and the remnants of ancient stone barracks were left.