D & D - Red Sands (33 page)

"My sister. Friend Marix," she said. Her normally vibrant voice was dull and without feeling .

"What has he done to you?" Jadira whispered.

"Sto-stolen will. Mind can't think , . ."

"Is it magic? Is it a spell?" asked Marix urgently.

"Can't think . . ."

Jadira spied Elperex. The little 'strelli was tied off the ground. His wings were tightly wrapped with a cord and his eyes were open in the full light. She turned angrily to Frolder.

"Cover his face!" she said. "His eyes can't bear bright sunshine. If you don't cover them, he'll go blind."

"Truly? How interesting," said Frolder. Jadira's temper boiled. She quickly unwound her black cotton headdress and made a loose turban from it. This she set over Elperex
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s head, swathing it completely.

"Charming," said the sheriff.

"Why have you done this?" Marix demanded. "We've done no harm to you."

"Your friends were too clever and too strong for me to keep under simple lock and key. So I had my chief magicker loose their wits for them. Temporarily, until I decide what to do with them—and you."

Jadira sprang for Froider's throat. She got a good grip before Marix could move to restrain her. The sheriffs white face filled with blood, turning the color of ripe berries.

When he and Marix finally succeeded 111 breaking her hold, Frolder was halfway choked to death.

"By the god's eyeteeth!" he gasped. "You have hands like a blacksmith! I think perhaps I shall have to send for my wizard to calm you as he did the others."

"No! No, please," Marix said. "Understand, Sir Sheriff, Jadira possesses a quick temper, but is mistress of it almost all the time. She—we—will be docile, I promise."

Frolder rubbed his bruised neck. "Your name is Jadira, eh? Well, Jadira, I owe you some attention. Later, I will—" He paused and smiled his unkind smile again. "But that is for later," he finished.

Frolder went to where a bronze tube hung from a post by a thong. He struck this gong with his dagger blade. Two black-jacketed soldiers entered the courtyard.

"Ah, Dredno. Take these two to the top of the citadel and put them in a guest room. Stay by the door; we don't want them wandering around the barrow with night coming on," Frolder said.

"It shall be done, my lord," said the guard.

The soldiers prodded Jadira and Marix out. When they were gone, Frolder said to the empty air, "Did you hear, Phraxa? He called her by name."

A stout, bearded man of forty years flickered to solidity near the outer wall. He wore an amulet like Frolder's. The silver disc fell from his lips as he materialized. He took a deep breath, coughed, and said, "There can be no doubt now. They are the ones."

"How much do you think we can get for them?"

Phraxa rubbed his many-ringed fingers together. "That depends on who we ransom them to, Hurgold would pay well; Count Fernald would better him. And the sultan—" Phraxa rolled his eyes. "The coffers of Fazir are very deep, my dear Frolder."

"They cannot be too deep for me," said the sheriff. Phraxa laughed. Frolder joined in. The wizard and the sheriff replaced the amulets in their mouths and vanished, Frolder in the wink of an eye. Phraxa seemed to have some trouble with his amulet. He faded out like a waning shadow. Only the echoes of their laughter remained.

The Curse of Ondrin

In another part of the citadel, two men waited for Frolder's return. Their dusty, stained armor bore witness to the distance they had come and the hardship they had endured. The taller man toyed with a golden trinket. He tapped it on the table, rubbed it with his fingers until it warmed from his touch, and let it dangle from a short loop of chain.

"What's keeping them?" he asked testily. The younger, smaller man could only shrug from ignorance. "I hate treachery," the older man continued. "Even when it serves our master. Betrayers have no compunction about whom they betray; tomorrow, it could be us."

"He would not dare, my brother. His Magnificence knows all that befalls us; if the foreigner breaks faith with us, the wrath of the sultan would descend on his wretched fief."

Fu'ad closed the Eye of the Sultan in his fist. "I hope this Frolder realizes that, Marad," he said.

Jadira paced the tiny room from one wall to the other. "We should have put up a fight," she said.

"What good would it have done?" Marix responded. "Frolder would just have popped that necklace in his mouth, vanished, and spitted us like partridges." His shoulders sagged forward. "We have only three days left. If we don't get out of here by tomorrow, there won't be time to get the seal and make Tantuffa before the conclave dissolves into war."

"There is a chance. \ou will not like it, but there is one chance."

"What?"

"I will occupy Frolder long enough for you to escape," saidjadira. "Alone."

"I won't leave you here."

"But think, Marix; think of all the lives that will be lost if you don't put the prince's seal in Lord Hurgold's hands."

"Am I to give you up then?" he said in a distant voice.

Jadira stopped pacing and took his hand. "Never give me up," she said. "Just be ready to leave me when the opportunity arises."

Two quick knocks on the door made them spring apart. The thick wooden door swung in, revealing Frolder and a quartet of soldiers.

"Good evening to you," he said with a courtly bow. "I am here to request the pleasure of your company at dinner. As I have other guests of interest to you, I'm sure you will come along without argument. Shall we go?"

Jadira preceded Marix to the door. As she passed closest to Frolder, the sheriff whipped out his dagger. He pressed the flat of the blade to Jadira's neck.

"Your mind is glass to me, lady. I see through you.

Nothing is said or done under this roof that I don't know of instantly," he said.

Jadira put a finger to the tip of the dagger and pushed it away. "Then you know how undeniably hungry I am," she said.

Frolder's red mustache twitched. "Of course. The corporal's escort will show you the way."

When Marix passed by Frolder, the sheriff replaced the magic disc and became invisible. Jadira stiffened. "Keep moving and don't make trouble," Marix whispered.

They returned to the octagonal hall where they had earlier met the sheriff. Now tbe eight-sided table was set for a meal. A tall chair was placed at each side. A brewer's boy went from place to place, filling large earthenware mugs with foaming beer. Another young boy with close-cut hair lighted candles on the table with a copper taper-holder.

Frolder materialized behind Jadira's chair. "Do be seated, lady," he said. She sat. He pushed the chair forward and went to the place directly opposite. He sat down and rapped on the table. A portly man in a red robe appeared on his left, already seated. Marix sank slowly into his own chair.

"Phraxa," he said, unbelieving.

The fat man looked startled. "Do I know you?"

"I saw you once many years ago. You were on trial for unlawful divination by necromancy."

Phraxa laughed, his jowls quivering like two puddings. ""Vou'll have to be more exact, young fellow. I've been tried many times for necromancy."

"Was it in Dosen?" said Frolder after taking a long drink of beer. It was Marix's turn to look surprised.

"Why do you say Dosen?" he asked.

"Is that not your home? Are you not the third son of Count Fernald?"

"What is for dinner?" Jadira interjected. Marix closed his mouth.

"Not all my guests are here yet," said Frolder. He signaled a guard by the door. The soldier held the door wide as two men walked quickly in. Jadira recognized them immediately.

"Fu'ad!" she said, taking up her table knife. Fu'ad and Marad went around Frolder's chair and took their seats. The officers had forsaken their mail for baggy silk pants and crimson vests, as befitted Faziri gentlemen of position.

"Do be civilized," said Phraxa. "Put down that knife."

"Marix, who is this fat slug?" said Jadira, waving the blunt implement at Phraxa.

"A sorcerer of vile repute, Phraxa of Tel Noa."

""Vbu wound me, sir." Phraxa raised his mug to Jadira. "Lady, as often happens to great men, I am widely defamed because of my skill and success with the black arts."

"\bu're a grave robber and a poisoner," said Marix. "Even now, our friends languish under the spell of one of your filthy potions!"

"How did you escape the 'strelli escorting you?" Jadira asked Fu'ad.

"Did you really think Invincibies of the empire could be herded like goats by a band of winged lizards?" said Fu'ad. "My brother and I lived to continue the chase."

"Wait, wait!" said Frolder, holding his hands out to all the warring parties. "This is dinner, and you are all my guests. Be civil, if nothing else." A tense silence settled over the table. "Good. Now for our last guest. . ."

Frolder waved at the doorman again. The soldier pushed the portal open and straightened his back against the door frame.

A vague form stirred in the shadowed hall beyond the door. There was a swish and crinkle of stiff cloth. Marix andjadira leaned forward to see who was coming. Out of the dark stepped a woman.

Every man in the room stood up silently. Jadira, slightly confused by their response, stood up, too.

The woman was clothed entirely in black—a black silk skirt varnished to hold its heavy pleats, a tight-fitting vest of velvet over a raven blouse embroidered with silver. A high collar beaded with pearls rose behind the woman's head, framing a face of rare delicacy and beau-

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\,

"Good men and lady, may I present Her Grace, the Countess Liantha, sister to our lord Count Tedwin of Maridanta," Frolder said.

Countess Liantha approached the empty chair on Jadira's left. Fu'ad beat his comrade Marad to the seat and held it for her. Liantha's only acknowledgement of his gesture was a slight lowering of her brilliant blue eyes. Fu'ad, captain of the dread Invincibles and veteran of many campaigns, blushed behind his freshly trimmed and curled beard.

"Have you found your accommodations at Barrow Vitgis to your liking?" asked Frolder. The countess gave a slow nod of her finely sculpted head. By candlelight, her naturally pale complexion assumed an almost opalescent sheen. Marix found himself staring. Jadira pinched his elbow.

Frolder clapped his hands, and serving boys filed in, carrying the first course—pigeons, stuffed with rice and
gopa
nuts. The platter was taken around the table, starting with the countess, and then the pages brought out bread. Marix was delighted to eat leavened bread again, after so many months on Faziri wheel loaves.

There was no conversation for several minutes as everyone busied themselves with the food. Frolder watched with satisfaction as everyone ate except he and Phraxa. Frolder did empty his mug a few times. He sat back and wiped streaks of foam from his moustache.

"My good friends, Phraxa has arranged for a special entertainment this evening," he said, "one I'm sure you will all find amusing and enlightening."

"I don't like the sound of this," Jadira muttered.

"With due pardon to this gracious lady," said Fu'ad, inclining his head to Countess Liantha, "I have a mission to perform, one that I would like to resolve as soon as possible—namely, the return of the escaped criminals to the lawful custody of His Magnificence the Sultan."

"May he live forever," said Marad.

"Patience, Sir Fu'ad. Did I not promise you would get what you so ardently desire?" said Frolder. He was obviously enjoying himself. The second course—leeks in cream—arrived without being summoned. Again Phraxa and Frolder ate nothing.

"The name of this entertainment is 'Truth.' You, my dear guests, will be called upon to participate," the sheriff said.

"Suppose we don't wish to?" said Marix.

"Oh, your cooperation is assured. Each person seated at this table wants something. Sir Fu'ad and his second want me to deliver the vagabonds into their hands. Equally, young Marix would like to be free to rejoin his father's people in Tantuffa, along with the odd collection of companions he has collected."

"So would I," said Jadira.

"At my request, the countess is here as her brother's representative in our dealings with the gentlemen from Fazir. She is Count Tedwin's ears, you might say." Frolder leaned forward and rested his chin in his hand. "But not his voice, eh?" Liantha's flawless face creased in a deep frown. Her wordless expression was so full of meaning that Frolder leaned back, his composure shaken.

"Ahem," he said. "At any rate, everyone plays. It serves my aims best to have you all together this evening. I cannot afford to have important people like yourselves keeping secrets from me."

"When does this game begin?" asked Fu'ad.

"Oh, any time now."

The entree arrived: a whole carcass of venison, smoked over a slow fire for a day and a night. A nimble lad knelt on the table top and sliced select cutlets for the diners. With this came a pot of rich, red-brown gravy, which a pair of pages bore on a pole across their shoulders.