wails.
'SILENCE!'
The shrieks and screams cut off at his command, and now there was only moaning and harsh pleas for
'Mercy, brother, mercy!'
Safar paced forward, moving through the writhing bodies until he came to the throne. It looked a great pile of bones-arms and legs and torsos and skulls stacked in the shape of an enormous winged chair. As he came closer he saw the bones were carved from white stone. The creature who commanded that grisly throne was like the others, except much larger. A red metal band encircled her bony skull to make a crown. Unlike the others, however, the creature was silent and although she was hunched over, claws covering her eyes, she made no outward show of pain.
Safar stopped at the throne and said loudly for all to hear: 'Are you queen to this mewling lot?'
'Yes, I am queen. Queen Charize.' As she answered she couldn't help but raise her royal head, carefully keeping her eyes shielded. 'I command here.'
'You command nothing,' Safar replied, voice echoing throughout the chamber, 'except what I, Lord Timura of Kyrania, might permit.'
Queen Charize said nothing.
'Do you understand me?' Safar demanded.
He made a motion and the light became brighter still. The creatures shrieked as their pain intensified.
Even the queen could not stop a low moan escaping through her clenched lips.
'Yes,' she gasped, 'I understand.'
'Yes, Master,' Safar corrected her. 'You will address me as Master.'
The queen gritted her fangs in protest, but she got it out: 'Yes … Master!'
Safar motioned and the light diminished. There were gasps of relief as he dimmed it until the room was merely a soft glow. But no one rose or uncovered her eyes. Dim as the light was, it was still too painful for the sisters of darkness to bear. He could also smell the fear in them. They knew that if their new master was threatened, he could instantly retaliate.
To make certain, Safar said, 'You may be queen here, but that doesn't mean you actually have wits to rule elsewhere.' Queen Charize hissed indignation. Safar laughed to grind in the humiliation. 'Hiss all you like,' he said. 'Just so long as we understand each other. I've already formed a spell that will turn you and all these filthy things you call subjects into dust. I only have to cast it. It would take a word, no more.'
This was a lie. As far as Safar knew there was no such spell. But his days with Methydia's circus had taught him how to lie most convincingly.
'I will do as you say … Master,' the queen answered. 'On my word, no one will harm you.'
'Fortunately,' Safar said, 'I don't need to test your word.
'Now, tell me, what is this place? And what do you do here?'
The queen answered simply. 'We are the Protectors,' she said.
'And what, pray tell, are you the protectors of?'
The queen's head jerked in surprise. If this human wizard, this Lord Timura, was so powerful, why didn't he know the answer? Safar didn't give her a chance to scratch his pose further.
'Well, answer me!' he demanded.
'Why, as all know on Syrapis,' she said, 'we are the Protectors of Lord Asper. And this is his tomb.'
The answer so surprised Safar he nearly lost control of his spell. Syrapis? This great vault was in Syrapis? And what was this about Lord Asper? Protectors!? Protecting what? Asper had long been dead.
What happened next surprised him even more. The queen began chanting in a harsh whisper:
Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady.
We guard his tomb, we guard his tomb,
Holy One…'
The other creatures joined her in a harsh chorus, as if coming from the grave. It seemed to be a prayer to some goddess, but coming from those throats of malice it made a mockery of all that was holy.
They sang:
Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady.
On our souls, on our souls,
Safar thought, if these creatures had souls he didn't want to meet the god who made them. Then he felt a dry, spidery web drifting over him and he realized they were trying to trap him in a spell.
His own spell was weakened and the light dimmed further. The creatures began to stir.
Safar saw the queen's great red eyes come up from the shield of her claws like twin suns rising over the sharp peaks of the Hells. But he only laughed and clapped his hands, bringing the light back to its most shocking brightness, nearly more than even he could bear.
The prayer song collapsed into shrieks of torment. He ignored their pain and turned his back on the queen, who was squirming on her throne in such agony he was confident he had little to fear from her.
He looked around the gaudy room, shielding his eyes against the glaring light, until he saw a raised dais not many paces away. The dais supported a large black coffin, shaped like a demon. Emblazoned on its lid in blood-red paint was a hauntingly familiar shape-a winged snake with two heads, poised to strike.
The sign of Asper! This was the burial place of Lord Asper himself. The source of all the wisdom Safar sought.
But how had these evil beings come to infest the Master Wizard's tomb? Safar had no doubt that Queen Charize's claims of being Asper's Protector were lies. Just as the prayer song had been a lie.
Amazed as he was, Safar kept his wits about him. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Tightening his control on the spell of light, he went to the dais and climbed the steps, being extremely careful not to stumble and lose concentration. When he was a few feet away, he felt the buzz of magic.
The snake heads came alive and shot toward him, then stopped. Still buzzing, but more a buzz of recognition than warning.
Asper knew him!
An odd thought came-How strange! Why should
Then he saw another familiar symbol on the side of the coffin. It was the outline of the island of Syrapis, exactly the same as the one in Asper's book-although much larger.
His fingers tingled with the sudden desire to touch the symbol. He mounted the dais steps, hand outstretched, so taken by the notion he forgot the warding spell. The light began to dim. He paid no attention, drawing closer and closer to the symbol of Syrapis. As the light dimmed still more, he heard Queen Charize mutter commands and her subjects rising up behind him, dry insect wings stirring old dust from the floor. Still he ignored them, climbing higher until the coffin was within his reach.
His fingers moved toward the symbol of Syrapis. He thought, I only have to touch it and all will be explained.
Words came to him, he didn't know from where, and he whispered, 'Wherein my heart abides/This dark- horsed destiny I ride?'
And a whispered reply came back-'Khysmet!'
His journeying hand froze. What was this? Who was speaking? And what did he mean?
Was it Asper's ghost?
'How do you know me, Master?' Safar asked.
And the ghost whispered: 'All wait for thee, Safar Timura. From Esmir to far Hadinland. Come to me, Timura. Come to Syrapis!'
'But how shall I come, Master?' Safar asked. 'Syrapis is a long journey across the sea.'
And the ghost said: 'First to Naadan, then to Caluz. That is the way to Syrapis.'
'But what if I fail, Master?' Safar asked. 'What if by some accident I am killed?'
'Then send the Other,' replied the ghost.
'Other?' Safar asked. 'What Other?'
