belonged to another, wiser man. And he asked that other man,
He chuckled at his foolishness and continued his ablutions.
In his hiding place, Iraj suppressed outright laughter.
He was so close to his enemy that if he had a knife he could catch him unaware and kill him. Of course, he'd need hands to hold that knife-which was something he lacked at the moment. In fact, he had no body at all. And wasn't it odd that he didn't miss it?
Then again, maybe it wasn't so strange. In Iraj's previous existence as a shapechanger he'd known constant pain. Especially as he moved through the agony of assuming one form or another. Bones cracking. Skin stretching and transforming. Internal organs boiling in a sorcerous cauldron. Brain and nerves on fire as they were bombarded by over-intensified sensations.
No, this was much better. The spirit form was a perfect container for the hate he felt for his enemy. What was more, as a spirit he could be patient in the extreme. And patience was a quality that Iraj had never possessed before.
Here he would wait-just out of his enemy's sight. He would watch all that occurred and,at the proper time and the proper place, he'd strike.
Poor Safar.
Sentence had already been passed and he didn't know it.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The monsoon season struck Syrapis full force. Even the natives said it was the worst in recent memory.
First came the stultifying atmosphere, settling over the island like a thick, uncomfortable blanket.
Breathing was accompanied by a wet rattling of the lungs. Old people and babes were most affected by this and Safar and Palimak were kept busy night and day treating a host of respiratory ailments.
This was accompanied by a series of heavy rainstorms that drenched everyone to the bone. Clothes never seemed to dry. Small wounds became huge weeping sores. The animals developed mange and other skin diseases. Goat milk and cheese became a precious commodity as the mother goatsa€™ teats dried up.
Next came the crops. The Kyranians had brought seeds and cuttings from their high-mountain homeland.
Over the past few years the Esmirian plants had done well in the mountain fortress the Kyranians had chosen for a home. But the monsoon brought a dampening sickness with it. Roots of young plants were pinched off by the disease. The older plants were stricken with a mysterious fungus. Gray patches would suddenly appear on the leaves and within only a few days the plants would wither and die.
Lightning was a constant peril. Striking without warning even on those rare days when the skies were blue and empty. Parents taught their children to make a small presence if they were caught out in a lightning storm.
They were taught to crouch down, head between their legs, being sure to keep their weight balanced only on their toes. The idea being to make as little contact with the ground as possible. They were also told to stay away from fences during a lightning strike. And if caught out in a wooded area, to get under the shortest tree. For some reason the Lightning Gods favored the tallest objects on which to concentrate their wrath.
The airship was grounded the whole time and there was no surveillance while the monsoon storms lasted.
Safar and Palimak weren't too concerned about this vulnerability, reasoning their enemies were just as hampered by the storms as they were.
Safar, however, was concerned about the mercenary fleet they'd hired. Besides the airship, it was this sea force that had kept King Rhodes bottled up. Coralean was dispatched, along with a strong guard, to make certain the pirate captains remained loyal.
Meanwhile, Safar spent all his spare time pondering his next move. He told Palimak and Leiria about his enslavement to the spell of Hadin, his escape and the subsequent disappearance of Iraj.
'I suppose we'll unravel those mysteries in good time,' Safar said one night. 'But at the moment the thing that intrigues me most is that mural.'
He indicated the painting on the wall. 'I wonder mightily what the story is behind that. Who was the king?
And what of his daughters? Especially the dark-skinned woman on the black mare. When her ghost visited me she said she was a Spirit Rider. And that she was commanded to lead me to Syrapis. For what purpose, I don't know.'
'Maybe it has something to do with Lord Asper's coffin, father,' Palimak said. 'To me, that's as big a mystery as the mural. One moment I saw his mummified corpse. And then he was gone. To be replaced by your living body.'
'I have an inkling of what happened to Asper,' Safar replied. 'It's my theory that the coffin is a gateway between here and Hadin. Unless I'm in grievous error, we basically traded places.'
He thought a moment, then added, 'At least, it is was a gateway. It's closed now. And there's no way of reopening it again.'
Outside, the intensity of the rainstorm increased, furiously pounding on the shuttered windows.
Leiria shivered. 'Give me a sword, a spear and a shield and I'll fight any enemy you put in my way,' she said. 'But all this talk of magical gateways, missing corpses and Spirit Riders is unnerving.'
Palimak said, 'About the mural, father…'
'Yes?'
'Why don't we talk to Queen Jooli?' he asked. 'Maybe she can tell us its history.'
Safar considered his suggestion. Jooli was nearly as big a puzzle to him as the magical mysteries he was attempting to unravel. He still thought it odd that a hostage should so completely switch her loyalties.
Yet he sensed he could trust her implicitly. She clearly hated her father, just as her sympathies were clearly with the Kyranians. Perhaps it had something to do with her witch's powers. Had she learned something through magic that had opened her eyes?
There was only one way to find out.
'Send for her,' Safar said.
A few minutes later Jooli came into the room, still sleepy-eyed from her bed. Twin lightning spears crashed outside, light flaring through the shutter panels. Mixing with the wavery light of the torches sputtering in their brackets on the wall.
Jooli was wearing a long, soft gown and in the sudden intensity of light her slender figure was outlined through the rich cloth. At the same time Safar caught the scent of her perfume-delicate flower blossom.
He was startled at her beauty, realizing this was the first time he'd seen her out of armor.
He started to speak and found his voice had grown husky. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman and she'd caught him off guard with her earthy presence. He cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment and bade her to sit and take some wine with them.
They talked casually for a time, drinking wine and remarking that the storm seemed to be subsiding. Safar noticed that Jooli was eyeing him speculatively, no doubt wondering why she'd been called here. He felt a gentle touch of magic as she sniffed about to see if there was any danger. When none was found, the subtle probing quickly vanished.
Jooli spoke first, going directly to the heart of things. 'I suppose you're all wondering about me,' she said.
'Wanting to know why I'm acting like such a willing hostage. And why I seem so disloyal to my father.
'I suppose you're even asking yourselves if it's some sort of trick. Suspecting, maybe, that any day now I'll
