'You can imagine his surprise when he sees there's a beautiful woman waiting for him-dressed in nothing but a filmy gown and a big smile. 'My husband is away for the night,' she says, real sultry, then she takes him to bed and they make mad passionate love. The greatest love poor old Zenzi had ever experienced.
Then the woman claps her hands and the slave brings in a wonderful dinner of the best kabobs and sherbet and all the other delicacies the rich get, but Zenzi had never tasted before. When he is done the woman pours him some fragrant tea.
'Zenzi starts to reach for the cup, then notices a copper coin sitting beside it.'
''Pardon, my dear lady,' Zenzi says, 'but everything has been so wonderful. The hours of love. The food.
The drink. Everything. But what's this copper coin for?''
'The woman smiled and said, 'Well, yesterday I told my husband this was your last night after thirty years of service. And I asked what we should give you. And my husband answered, 'Screw Zenzi. Give him a copper!' The woman shrugs. 'The dinner,' she says, 'was my idea!''
Renor roared laughter, slapping his thigh and looking quite unsoldierlike when Lord Timura came riding up on his great stallion, accompanied by thirty men.
'I thought there was an emergency here,' he said, blue eyes fierce under his dark brows. 'Instead I find my best men lolling about like tavern sops. Laughing and making merry.'
Renor shook his head, amused. 'This is a pretty funny situation if you think about it, my lord,' he said, chuckling. 'Here we are telling jokes-dirty ones, at that. And then you ride up and-'
'Where's Captain Leiria?' Safar barked, breaking into Renor's babble. He glanced around. 'And Dario!
Where's Sergeant Dario?'
Renor grinned and motioned toward the entrance. 'Checking out the pass, Lord Timura,' he said, choking back laughter. 'To see if there's … ha ha ha … an ambush! Ha ha ha.'
Sinch snorted laughter. 'Did you hear the one about the guys who ate the frogs?' he asked.
Safar slipped his silver dagger out. He mumbled a spell.
Renor shook his head, laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes. 'No,' he said.
'Well there was this plague of frogs, see … And-'
Safar sliced the air, casting his spell, and the two young men were suddenly left gasping and flailing the air as if they'd been drenched with icy water.
Renor was the first to recover. His eyes were wide with shame and fear. 'I'm sorry, Lord Timura,' he said, voice trembling. 'I don't know-'
'Never mind, lad,' Safar said gently. 'It wasn't your fault. Now, join the others. You too, Sinch.'
The young men did as he said. At Safar's signal everyone formed up and checked their weapons and gear.
He turned back to the entrance of the Caluzian Pass, probing with his magical senses. Khysmet chuffed and shifted under him, as if he too were investigating. Safar pushed harder. It was difficult to 'see' in the constant hail of wild magic that pelted the Black Lands, but whoever had cast the spell of amusement on Renor and Sinch had left a faint trail. In Safar's magical vision it looked like a silvery path left by a snail.
But it faded away just before it reached the first bend in the road.
To Safar it seemed obvious that whoever, or whatever, had tricked the young scouts was trying to keep their attention away from what was happening down that dark avenue through the mountain. Not for the first time he wished he had Gundara with him. The little Favorite was an expert at snooping out such things.
He gritted his teeth, forcing his mind away from what might be happening to Leiria. And Dario, oh yes, mustn't forget Dario. But it's Leiria, dammit, Leiria! She has no stake in this whole thing … except for me.
Then Khysmet pawed the ground and Safar jerked back. He knew immediately he was being seduced by another sort of spell and he shook it off like clinging moss. Quickly, he raised a magical shield over himself and his men so there could be no other such surprises.
Safar leaned forward, patting Khysmet and whispering, 'Who needs a Favorite?' The horse jerked its head up and down as if agreeing.
Then, without a thought passing between them Khysmet moved toward the pass and Safar signaled for his men to follow.
They made their way much as Leiria and Dario had done-leapfrogging from one cleared section of road to the next. Although the passage was narrow, it was still wide enough to carry caravan wagons and so Safar had little concern he might encounter an overwhelming force. There was plenty of room for him to deploy his men in strength, and either fight their way through or retreat to safety, dealing out much death and injury to whoever opposed them.
Khysmet moved easily over the rubble-strewn ground, finding firm footing in places where the other animals stumbled. Safar was left free to concentrate solely on the task at hand. His eyes pierced every shadow, his hearing was acute and his magical senses kept up a slow sweep for any sign of danger.
It came without warning-the heavy tread of many boots marching toward them. Khysmet whinnied alarm and Safar heard his men shout. With a start he realized the sound of marching came from both before
As the air shimmered he scrabbled for a blocking spell, mind yammering that there had been no sign of a magical attack, but it was coming just the same.
Then he saw what Leiria had seen: long columns of huge mailed warriors marching toward him, closing the jaws of the trap.
He reared back to blast them, praying he had the right spell. But just before he struck he heard a shout:
'Safar!'
Safar blinked. It was Leiria's voice.
She called again. 'Over here, Safar!'
He looked in the direction of her voice, then realized he could see through the warriors as if they were ghosts.
And there, just beyond, he saw a small golden pavilion. And in that pavilion, sitting at their ease before a table filled with food and drink, were Leiria and Dario.
Leiria waved to him. 'Just push on through, Safar,' she said. 'They're harmless. Come and meet our hostess.'
Lord Fari fussed with the heads, pushing a stray curl away from the woman's dead eyes, wiping a spot of blood from the man's pale lips.
'Perfect, your Majesty,' he said. 'Just perfect. We couldn't have asked for better heads.'
Protarus gloomed at him from his throne, eyes hollow, features slowly changing from man to wolf to man again. Scarred lip twitching in all forms.
'What's so special about these heads?' he asked in a deadly voice.
'Exactly what I was wondering, Majesty,' Prince Luka said.
He glared at the old wizard, who stood between the two posts that held the heads. 'The king is ill,' he said to Fari. 'Why are you disturbing him with such nonsense?' And he thought, what an old fool you are.
I've been waiting for you to slip. Now I'll boot your arse the rest of the way down the stairs.
Fari sneered at Luka. 'His Majesty will soon be able to judge for himself whether this is nonsense or not,' he said. And he was thinking, You haven't a brain in your noggin, my prince. You were bred to fight, not to think. Your father was right not to trust you.
Kalasariz shifted his glance from one demon to the other, highly amused at the barely disguised hate between them. He kept silent-ready to jump to whichever side most benefited him.
Protarus motioned. 'Get on with it,' he said. His voice, however, was less threatening than before. The game between Fari and Luka had sparked his interest more than Fari's urgent call for a meeting.
'My mission tonight is most vital, Your Majesty,' Fari said. 'If I am successful in my experiment we will know the whereabouts of Lord Timura within the hour.'
Iraj shifted in his throne, black mood momentarily abated by this news. His features becoming wholly human.
Luka sneered, exposing many rows of gleaming fangs. 'I suppose the heads are going to tell us,' he said.
