He glanced at Palimak. 'No offense, my boy.' Then back to the council. 'I'll support an investigation-as long as it's not biased, of course.'
The others murmured … of course, of course. And before Palimak knew it Foron was lifting up the white kid's-leather sack that held the voting markers. He upended the bag and dozen or more tiles spilled out; half were black, indicating a no vote, while the other half were white, meaning yes.
Palimak's blood went to high boil. He'd had enough, dammit! Betrayed by his own grandfather, by the gods! Although a small part of him whispered there was some truth in what they said. But to the hells with that! He'd done it for their own good, hadn't he? Only doing what his father had asked.
On his shoulder, the speck that was Gundara whispered in his ear, 'We're ready, Little Master. Just say the word!'
Palimak's fingers stole into his pocket, touching the bit of magical parchment he kept there for just such emergencies. All he had to do was withdraw it, toss it into the council fire and a heady smoke would fill the room, making the men insensible. Then, with the help of his Favorites, he'd cast the spell that would make them pliant to his will and he'd send them on their way.
The spell would make them forget the confrontation. And he could easily create some clever bit of fiction to fill the gap in their memories. Such as the festival honoring Safar, the arrangement of which he'd originally thought was their purpose.
Then sudden self-disgust rose in his gorge. And his hand was empty when he yanked it out of his pocket.
He got to his feet.
'Go right ahead,' he said. 'Have your investigation. I'll abide by the will of the majority.'
Ignoring the shock on their faces and the mutters of surprise that swept the room, he stalked out of the chamber.
It's up to my father, now, he thought. And with that thought a feeling of immense relief washed over him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Leiria watched Coralean pace the room, big bearded head bent in concentration as he listened to Palimak explain what had happened at the meeting of the Council of Elders. She could hear quarrelsome voices outside, coming from the market place.
Normally, the disputes would be about the prices and quality of the goods being offered. But now-although the exact words weren't distinct-she knew the voices were lifted in heated debate about the future of the Kyranians in Syrapis.
Since Safar's return and Palimak's abdication of responsibility, politics had reared its head, showing its ugliest face. Everyone seemed to have their own strongly held opinions, with no views shared in common.
It was minority against minority and as a result the only rule was that of chaos.
When Palimak was done, the wily caravan master sighed deeply and shook his shaggy head. 'Coralean is not a man who easily passes judgment on another,' he rumbled. 'But I must confess, young Timura, that all you have told me is deeply troubling to this weary old heart.' He thumped the massive structure that was his chest.
Then he fixed Palimak with his fierce eyes. 'But, my headstrong friend,' he went on, 'it is with the greatest regret that I must tell you that a grievous error has been made. And I fear it is you who have committed it, though it pains me to point out the mistake.
'You should never have allowed the Council to convene, young Palimak. Failing that, you should have used all your wiles to prevent the outcome of that meeting. I blame myself for not being here to advise you. But, alas, I was busy with those pirates who call themselves ship captains.'
'But what the Elders suspect just happens to be true,' Palimak replied, voice weary from lack of sleep.
'I
He looked over at Leiria with sad eyes. 'I even did it to you, Aunt Leiria,' he said. 'You would never have left Esmir if I hadn't cast a spell on you. You'd have waited there until the hells turned to ice before you abandoned my father to the Fates.'
'I know that,' Leiria replied. 'And I can't say your actions don't bother me when I think on it. However, we now know Safar never would have showed up. The wait would have been futile.'
'But he wasn't dead,' Palimak said. 'I was wrong.'
'And he wasn't in Esmir, either, was he?' Leiria said. 'It was in Syrapis that we found him. There's no doubt in my mind that if you hadn't forced us to come to Syrapis, inspired us to defeat Rhodes and the others and then led us into that horrible chamber, we never would have found him. Don't ask me how he got here. I'm no sorcerer, so I couldn't say.'
Palimak smiled bitterly. 'Well, I am a sorcerer,' he said, 'and I can't tell you, either.'
He gestured at the immense coffin crammed into one side of the tower room that he used for his quarters.
'The first time I looked inside I saw the remains of a demon. There was no mistaking that corpse for anything but. Not just his looks, but the sheer size of him.'
Palimak shook his head. 'I've never seen a demon so large,' he said. 'Besides that, the demon looked exactly like the pictures and statues of Lord Asper. So that's who I think was in there. Not my father, but mummified remains of Asper.'
Coralean stroked his beard. 'You've said that the next time you looked Asper was gone and instead you found the ailing body of my dearest friend, Safar Timura: correct?'
'Just as you say,' Palimak replied.
'A mystery indeed,' the caravan master said. 'One designed to confound even one such as Coralean. A man who has seen more things than most.'
He turned to Leiria. 'How is our Safar?' he asked. 'Has his condition improved?'
She brushed away the sudden moisture in her eyes. 'No, it hasn't,' she said.
For three weeks, Leiria had helped Safar's mother and sisters nurse him. Spoonfeeding him broth, which he instinctively swallowed without ever regaining consciousness. Bathing the body she knew so well; except it was uniformly tanned from head to toe, which was most odd. It was as if he'd been naked under a hot sun for a long time. Also, other than what grew on his head, he was completely hairless. His face, his chest, his limbs, his groin.
Then, not long ago, he'd started to sprout a beard. But instead of coming in dark, like the hair on his head, it was golden. Since Safar had always kept his features smooth she'd shaved him, puzzling over the yellow hairs.
Also, his eyebrows and the hair on his head seemed lighter. Although that might have been from the sun that had toasted his skin. Stranger still, this morning, when she'd given him his sponge bath, she'd seen a little golden nest of hair beginning to form in his groin.
She'd wanted to ask his mother and sisters about it. But Leiria had never been Safar's wife, only his former lover, so she hadn't managed to summon the nerve to ask such an intimate question of the prudish Kyranian women.
'There's no need to mourn, my beautiful Captain,' Coralean said. 'Safar will be back with us in spirit as well as body soon enough.' He tapped his head with a strong, thick finger. 'Coralean knows it here.' He thumped his chest. 'And here.'
'He's spoken a few times,' Leiria said. 'So that gives me hope. Except he always says the same thing.'
She shook her head. 'He keeps asking, a€?Where's Khysmet?a€™ I wish could answer him. I keep thinking-if I could suddenly produce Khysmet he'd recover. But of course, that's a hopeless task. The last time we saw Khysmet was with Safar in Caluz. My guess is that he was probably killed when Safar destroyed the Idol of Hadin.'
