Mind swirling with weariness, Palimak turned to face the tomb. The light spilling out was so hot and bright that he had raise a hand to shield his face. He was vaguely aware that Leiria and the others were watching him; probably wondering if he were possessed, so forced were his movements. But he didn't have the strength to voice reassurance.
He made a weak gesture, but the light only barely dimmed. It was still too hot to approach and he didn't have the strength to make a better spell.
'I'm hungry!' Gundara announced. It sounded loud in his ear, but Palimak knew from experience that the others couldn't hear.
'Me too,' Gundaree added. 'I want something sweet to eat. Like some honey cakes.'
'With syrup all over them,' Gundara put in. 'Yum, yum.'
'I don't have any honey cakes on me at the moment,' Palimak said, too tired to worry that his human friends would think he was talking to himself. He patted the pocket where he kept their treats. 'Maybe some currants. But that's it.'
'They probably have pocket lint on them,' Gundaree sniffed. 'I hate lint!'
'Besides,' Gundara said, 'currants give me gas. You can't imagine what it's like living in a stone turtle when you have gas all the time.'
Palimak couldn't help but grin. In the middle of all this blood the twins remained true to form. They were safe now, that was all that mattered. Base needs came first, bless their greedy little souls.
'I'll get you some honey cakes when we get back to the airship,' Palimak promised.
Gundara sighed. 'All right. If that's how it has to be. I guess we can't do anything else.'
'But I want doubles,' Gundaree insisted. 'You have to promise doubles. Plus some really old cheese.
Smelly as you can get it.'
'Doubles it is,' Palimak said. 'And all the smelly cheese you can eat.'
Once again he gestured, but this time he felt a surge of extra power from the Favorites. The light dimmed until it was bearable enough for him to look at the coffin straight on.
He clumped up the steps, boots heavy, feeling like he was walking through mud. But as he advanced up the stairs the Favorites were giggling to themselves, as if they had a great secret. Palimak figured they had something up their sleeves to get further promises of treats.
Then he was at the coffin.
He peered inside, expecting to see the mummified remains of the demon wizard, Lord Asper.
Instead a man, wearing the very same robes Asper had been entombed in, stared blindly up at him.
And the twins chorused: 'Surprise, Little Master! Surprise!'
It was his father…
Safar Timura!
Palimak blinked, stunned.
Then Safar's eyes came open. His lips moved, forming words.
In a haze of unreality, Palimak leaned forward to listen.
'Khysmet,' Safar whispered.
Then a hand came out, gripping Palimak's tunic and drawing him down with surprising strength.
And Safar said, insistent, 'Where is Khysmet?'
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was near the end of day when the king's spies brought him the news. Rhodes hurried out to his castle's seaward wall and clambered up onto one of the big ship-killing catapults that defended this portion of his fortress.
According to his spies, Palimak and his party had left the warrens of the Idol of Asper and were now carrying a strange burden to the airship.
The catapult-hewn from the largest timbers in Syrapis-made a difficult climb for a man of Rhodesa€™
bulk and he gasped curses at his underlings. But the curses were really directed at himself for the sloth that had turned his once muscular body into such a wheezing mass of fat.
This was the reason, he thought, that Palimak and the Kyranians had been able to best him. He'd not only allowed his body to become larded, but his mind as well. He'd grown lax-and by example had allowed his subjects to become lax. His own mother had belabored Rhodes when he was a prince for his lazy tendencies.
Barbarian though he might be, Rhodes had a good mind and a natural instinct for strategy, plus an unerring eye for spotting his enemy's weaknesses.
He was also blessed with formidable strength and speed, especially for someone so large. At birth he'd been over fifteen pounds, which would have made for a difficult delivery if his mother had been a normal woman. But she came from a race of overly large people-not quite giants-and Rhodesa€™ entrance to the world through her wide hips and iron womb had been rather routine. If passing a cart horse could ever be called routine.
This combination of superior size and mental acuity had made Rhodes an easy winner over the other petty kings and queens in Syrapis. That was what had made him lazy, he thought. It had been too easy.
And when Palimak and the Kyranians had arrived he had not been prepared for their new forms of warfare.
Rhodes finally reached the top of the catapult and peered over the walls to see what his enemy was up to. Across from him, hovering over the little island that was home to the Idol of Asper, was the airship.
Not for the first time, envy gripped him as he gazed on that remarkable machine.
It was this magical device, he thought, that had been the key to the Kyraniansa€™ many victories over him and his royal Syrapian cousins. If only he had been blessed with such a thing the tale might have had a different ending. The humiliating scene in the courtyard two days before would not have happened.
Instead it would have been Palimak and that bitch warrior woman of his who would have suffered the shame of defeat.
He lapsed momentarily into a reverie in which the two of them were being dragged before his throne to be condemned to the nastiest agonies that Rhodesa€™ best torturers could devise.
Rhodes brought himself up short. No time for imaginary pleasures. He must be stronger than ever before.
He must spy out his enemiesa€™ doings and look for the weakness that might deliver them into his hands.
He saw the tide was turning below. Waves were already beginning to wash over the island. In an hour or so there would be no dry ground. An hour after that the idol itself would disappear beneath the creamy froth of the waves.
He gestured and an aide handed him a spyglass. Rhodes peered through it and made out Palimak directing four soldiers who were swaying up a large, mysterious object. What in the hells was it?
He adjusted the focus, following the object up as it rose in the net that enclosed it. Was it some sort of box? And what was that carving on the lid? Then he realized it was shaped like a coffin. If so, it was a very big coffin indeed. Large enough to hold a man twice Rhodesa€™ size, that was for certain.
Once again he studied the carving on the lid. Just before the coffin came level with his eyes, he realized what the carving was. It was a demon! Not only that, but the demon's face had the same features that were carved into the stone idol.
It was none other than Asper! He was certain of it. Then the coffin rose out of sight and a moment later the airship crew were muscling it over the rails to the deck.
Heart thundering, mind whirling with questions, Rhodes swung his glass back down to the island. Two men were carrying a stretcher down the stairway that descended from the idol's head. On the stretcher was a tall man, dressed in black robes. Rhodes couldn't tell if the man was conscious, but he noted with interest how tenderly his stretcher bearers treated him. A man of importance, no doubt. A man beloved.
