smoke-full lips parting in a woman's seductive smile.
Safar instantly recognized that smile. He'd first seen it as a boy, except Iraj had been with him then. He leaned closer as the lips opened to speak. Safar heard a woman's voice say:
The smoke vanished and the book snapped shut.
Safar looked up at Palimak, expecting to see wonderment on his face. Instead, the boy was sneering.
'If I ever make one of those things,' he announced, 'I'm going to figure out how to make it talk so people can understand what it means.'
Serious as the moment was, Safar couldn't help but laugh. 'If you ever do, son,' he said, 'you'll have witches and wizards with fists full of gold lined up for miles to buy one minute of your oracle's time.'
'Maybe,' Palimak said absently. Then his eyes brightened. He started to say more, but Safar made a signal and he stopped, looking over at Hantilia.
To the boy's surprise her form had faded so much that she was nearly a shadow. In a few moments she would be gone.
'I have one other thing to tell you before I go, Safar Timura,' she said.
'Go on, please, dear lady,' Safar said.
'You will need ships to sail to Syrapis,' she said. 'So you must travel to Caspan next. There is a friend waiting for you there who can help.
'But do it immediately. Haste is of prime importance. I can't stress that too much.
'You have three days at the most to make your arrangements and return to Caluz for your people. The portal will be closed after that.'
'Who is this man?' Safar asked.
'He's called Coralean,' she said.
Safar reacted, surprised. But before he could ask more, the Queen turned to Palimak.
'Answer me quickly, dear one,' she said. 'I have little time left. Back at the palace … Did my temporal presence tell you about your mother?'
'Yes,' Palimak said, trembling.
Hantilia smiled. 'Good,' she said. 'Good.'
She raised a hand of farewell, barely visible now.
'Wait!' Safar shouted. Hantilia's form steadied. 'What about the lady? The Spirit Rider who led us here? Who is she?'
'Lady?' Hantilia said, eyes widening in surprise. 'I know of no lady.'
And then she was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
As beautiful as Caspan had seemed from a distance, up close it was a horror. It was late afternoon when they reached the city. Plague bells were tolling and there was an awful stench of death rising from the great ditch encircling the city's walls-a sure sign even routine burials had been abandoned. The gates were wide open and people with the wild looks of refugees were streaming out, their belongings piled onto carts or on their backs. The walls, which had appeared so pristine white from the hills, were a filthy gray, marked further by crumbling stone and breaks in the wall due to civic neglect.
Palimak shuddered. 'Do we have to go in there, father?' he asked.
'No, thank the gods,' Safar said. 'Coralean never liked city life. Too many people spying on you from alleys, is how he puts it.'
They traveled a few miles more until they came upon a magnificent villa built on a hill that overlooked a graceful bay. In the dying sunlight Safar could see scores of white sails sitting off the coast and he idly wondered why so many ships were anchored in the same place.
As they approached the villa's gates-closed and barred against the coming night-Palimak suddenly said,
'Look out, father!'
Before he could react a hard voice rang out from behind them. 'Hold, stranger!'
Startled as he was, Safar knew better than to whirl around to see who was challenging them. He reined Khysmet in and sat quite still, whispering to Palimak that he shouldn't move a muscle. He heard heavy boots moving toward them, estimating by the sound that he was being confronted by at least half-a-dozen men.
Then three heavily armed thugs came into view, sidling up on either side. A crop-eared man grabbed Khysmet's reins while the others spread out, crossbows cocked and ready. Behind them, Safar could hear the other men cock their bows.
The scar-faced thug spoke to the others. 'If the bastard moves, kill him! Don't wait for orders.'
'What about the boy?' one of the men asked.
Crop Ear shrugged. 'Kill him too.'
Then he turned to Safar. 'Talk,' he commanded. 'And you'd better make it good. We've got some graves down the bottom of the hill dug specially for liars.'
Safar grinned down at the man. 'It sure is good to see your ugly face again, Gitter,' he said. 'And I notice you still have one ear left. You're either a better thief than you used to be, or you've made good your promise to end your evil ways.'
Gitter jerked back. Then he peered closer at Safar, an ugly smile slowly spreading across his face as recognition dawned.
'Ease off, lads,' he ordered the men. 'And, you, Hasin, run and tell the master Lord Timura's come for a visit.'
'I once believed that Coralean was the luckiest man in the whole history of Esmir,' the caravan master rumbled. 'I thought that when the gods coined luck they must have kept back the fattest purse for Coralean's glorious arrival to this world.'
He raised a crystal goblet in toast. 'But now I know that I, Coralean, who has prided himself these many years for not only being lucky, but also on being rarely wrong in his judgment, was most grievously in error. You, my friend-not Coralean-won the fattest purse of all.'
Safar clinked goblets with him. 'Thank you for the words of hope,' he said, 'but I fear that when it comes to luck … I'm down to my last few coppers of the stuff.'
They were taking their ease in Coralean's spacious study, which sat atop a specially built garden tower looking down on the bay. It was night. From the huge window Safar could see a forest of ships' lights playing on the waters. It was a peaceful scene, an idyllic scene, marred only by the face of the Demon Moon peering through a high cloud cover.
Both he and Palimak were bruised from the big man's hearty embraces of welcome. Coralean had then ordered his wives to see his visitors were fed, bathed and massaged with soothing oils. Palimak had fallen asleep during his massage. Now he was peacefully slumbering in a soft bed with silken sheets and perfumed pillows-the finest bed he'd known since he was a babe in Nerisa's luxurious care.
Coralean refilled Safar's goblet, then topped off his own. 'I must confess I had grave doubts this meeting would ever occur. In fact, if I had any worthy competitors left, I would have suspected them of concocting a wild plot to diminish Coralean's hard-earned fortunes. Consider, my friend. A fellow in red robes and fiendish eyes shows up at my gates with news of your imminent arrival. It had been so long since I had heard anything of you, I thought you dead.'
