Two Pieces of Tarnished Silver (3 page)

With walls of dark wood appointed with elaborate trim along the floor and ceiling, the room in which they dined conveyed a sense of power and wealth. At most six diners could sit around the fine marble-topped table, suggesting that the ship’s crew was meant to dine elsewhere, in a presumably far more humble setting. Finely wrought wooden doors marked the port and starboard walls. They’d come in from the port, and Korm suspected the opposite door led to the quarters of the ship’s senior staff. His mind subconsciously began to wonder what the bedchambers of a national ruler might look like, and Korm smiled as he sensed the return of his old self now that food and freedom were at hand.

At the head of the table, Epostian Creeg gestured with his left hand, his first two fingers raised to the ceiling as he extolled the virtues of the next course. Korm didn’t pay attention to his words, but rather focused on the man’s meticulous appearance. Dressed in a supple white leather suit cut to the latest fashion and accented by a brilliant red flower in the buttonhole of his left breast pocket, Creeg appeared every bit the royal attendant he was. His short blond hair was freshly trimmed, his smooth skin without a hint of dirt or blemish. Like his beautiful dishes, every aspect of his demeanor and dress seemed perfectly arranged to impress.

A massive symbol imprinted on the wall behind Creeg framed the alchemist in a perfect circle, between two diagonal lines that suggested a road disappearing over the horizon. The image reminded Korm of the mystical symbols adorning the few alchemical reference works he’d perused in his travels, and the swordsman let out a soft snort as he decided that the pompous dandy had probably planned that, too. No doubt the alchemist fancied the dramatics of appearing to stand at the head of a long road leading to the infinite horizons of enlightenment. And then it hit him.

He’d seen that symbol before.

Creeg paused his presentation for a moment, and Korm decided it was his turn to speak. He turned to Iranez of the Orb.

“If you sit on the Council of Quantium,” he asked matter-of-factly, “why does your dining chamber bear the seal of the Pathfinder Society?”

Iranez raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise. “You’ve encountered it?”

“I was raised in Daggermark and spent my first two decades traveling up and down the River Road,” Korm said, trying not to sneer. “You’d be surprised by what I’ve encountered.”

Iranez pursed her lips in a bemused expression, clearly unused to being chided by a social inferior.

“Your travels serve you well,” she said. “The glyph is the mark of the vessel’s previous owner, a questing hero named Durvin Gest, one of the founders of that guild of explorers. He somehow infused the surface of the wall with the symbol, and no means arcane or otherwise can remove or obscure it. Believe me, I’ve tried. It is a mar on the eldritch craft of the archmage Nex himself, created fifty centuries ago in the Age of Destiny. Imagine discovering a perfect Azlanti statue carved by the finest artisan of that bygone kingdom of legend, preserved for thousands of years just as its creator intended. Then imagine chiseling the crude face of your sallow-cheeked daughter over the original, simply to satisfy your own sense of vanity and pride. It is an affront.”

“I kind of like it,” said Aebos, mouth full.

“Indeed,” Korm added. “An indelible symbol imprinted by a long-dead famous hero. It adds a sort of mystery to the ship.”

“The ship has plenty of mystery of its own,” scoffed Creeg.

Iranez nodded. “One such mystery is the cause of your rescue, and the price of your freedom.” She smiled as Korm and Aebos turned to her with a start. There had been no prior discussion of a fee.

“The Orb seems to believe that the two of you represent the best chance we have to remedy a wrong that has brought much grief to the seas of Nex.”

“Wait,” Korm asked. “You speak to the Orb?”

“The Orb speaks to me. ‘Whispers’ is perhaps a more accurate term, for its words are meant only for my ears, and cannot be heard by others.”

“That’s convenient,” said Aebos.

“I have found it to be so,” she admitted. “On more than one occasion the Orb has saved my life, or led me to a decision that enhanced the fortunes of the Council, the nation, or its people. Over long years I have learned to trust its declarations.”

Aebos cut to the point. “You speak of a grief upon the seas. You mean the stillness of the water? The lack of wind?”

“The same,” she said. “Tell me, Korm, in your travels along the River Road, did you ever hear about the demon ships?”

Korm’s eyes narrowed at the mention of demons. “Can’t say that I did,” he said, monotone.

“They date from the last days of the Age of Destiny, when the archmage Nex turned to conquest upon the seas to broaden the scope of his kingdom. Unwilling to bow to the might of storms or the whims of the wind, Nex sought a method to propel his fleet to military victories regardless of weather.”

Creeg spoke up, interrupting his mistress. “He found his method by binding the souls of powerful demons into enormous, perfectly cut glass lenses, which he bonded to his ships in a supreme act of arcane mastery. While imprisoned within the false reality of the lens, the demon’s essence suffused every element of the ship, from its navigation to the fine details of its appearance. In a very real sense, the ship became the creature’s skin, though its mind remained forever hidden away.”

“In all of our rich history,” Iranez continued, “no demon has broken free from its lens or betrayed its captain. Until now.”

“Let me guess,” Korm said. “The Relentless is one of these demon ships?”

“Indeed it is,” said Iranez. “And until recently it had been an unusually docile specimen of its kind.”

“But then something happened,” said Aebos, “and the demon’s control extended to the waters around the ship. This whole business is your fault.”

“This business is the demon’s fault,” Creeg corrected. “It simply decided to rebel for reasons of its own that we have not yet been able to discern. That is why we turn to you. You must resolve the situation with the demon at the heart of the ship. The disruption to trade must not be traced back to the lady.”

Korm furrowed his brow. “And how, exactly, do we get the demon to change its ways?”

Iranez lowered her left arm toward the floor, from whence she hauled a fine linen bag and placed it upon the table. As it landed with a loud clink, the lip of the bag dipped below the considerable bulk of its contents, revealing the glimmering edge of a crown and the sparkle of a scepter topped with what appeared to be a large emerald. Aebos’s eyebrow lifted.

Iranez spoke softly, her golden eyes perfectly locked with the gray of Korm’s, her face a picture of calm and practiced diplomacy. “The creature calls itself Juval. I believe that it can be reasoned with. Like any demon, it is subject to powerful desires that can be twisted to manipulate the creature to your own ends. In this case, the wealth collected here will serve to stoke its avarice.”

Korm stared at the bag of treasure for a long while before returning his attention to Iranez. “You rule an entire nation and own a ship with a demon in it. Aebos and I are not your lackeys. Why don’t you do this yourself?”

Iranez sighed softly. “No kingdom in all of Golarion has as many wizards and mystics as does my homeland of Nex. As a supreme agent of the Council of Three and Nine, my every action is scried, scrutinized, and divined by numerous factions. By special design, this chamber has the power to block such divinations. This power alone allows me to speak of Juval and its influence over the waves, for if I did so elsewhere word of my involvement would reach all quarters of Quantium within the hour.”

Korm scoffed. “The politics of Nex are none of our concern.”

The alchemist’s eyes widened comically and his jaw went slack. “The utter insolence! The Lady Iranez rescued you from certain death and brought you into her confidence! And she has provided you with this resplendent meal.”

“This is her demon,” Korm responded. “Her problem. The way I see it, the Lady Iranez and her demon have provided me with all of my recent meals.”

“Mister Calladan,” said Iranez, “you survived the River Road and the dangers of distant Vudra. I have faith in your ability to talk yourself out of a problem, as does the Orb. You must pass through the lens into the demon’s territory. There, you must convince Juval to withdraw its influence to the ship itself, and return the winds and waves to the waters surrounding Nex. What trinkets Juval does not claim are yours to keep, with my blessing. Upon your return from the world of the lens, I promise you safe passage to Quantium.”

A wide grin broke across Aebos’s face. “My lady,” he said, “we could have saved significant anguish if you had led with the bit about us getting to keep the treasure. We will agree to your terms.”

“As if the two of you reprobates deserve any riches beyond your lives,” snapped Epostian Creeg. “My service to the Lady Iranez has convinced me to trust the guidance of the Orb, but what it sees in you, I cannot tell. I do not believe that the two of you can be trusted.”

“Nor, I confess, do I,” said Iranez, her voice tinged with a hint of regret soon erased by a wan smile. “To ensure that our needs are met, Korm and Aebos will be accompanied by my most trusted agent, Epostian Creeg.”

The alchemist’s face turned as white as his fine leather suit.

For a long moment Korm Calladan felt only a pleasant warmth. Gone were the fears of starvation, the thrill of combat in the cramped underdeck of the Queen’s Lament, the suspicion of the Lady Iranez and her imposing crew. He knew his cyclops companion Aebos and the preening alchemist Epostian Creeg were somewhere ahead, for they had preceded him through the curved glass lens at the heart of the Relentless, but in the soothing calm he saw only a featureless white haze.

After the rigors of the past weeks, Korm wanted more than anything to linger in this peaceful no-man’s land, but his legs seemed determined to carry him forward despite the wishes of his overworked mind. He counted the steps. Upon the sixth, the haze vanished abruptly, and Korm found himself near the edge of a jagged bluff of rigid red stone, his long black hair and considerable mustache whipped by a stark, ill-smelling wind. A thin white outline in the air behind him marked the way back to safety on the other side of the lens. A cackle of ominous thunder ripped through the inky black clouds cloaking the turbid skies above, shaking the ridge.

“I knew it would be just like this,” he said with a grimace, drawing his slender sword. His companions stood just beyond the reach of his voice in the whipping wind, surveying the land beyond the cliff’s edge. He buttoned his open shirt with his right hand as he approached them.

“What a delightful little world we’ve found,” he said as he reached the rocky ledge, almost yelling over the howling wind. Aebos looked back over his shoulder and smiled at his friend’s arrival.

“Don’t let the club fool you—Aebos is a lot smarter than he looks.”

“Perhaps not so little,” the cyclops shouted in response. He gestured toward a vast expanse of land that spread from the mountain below into a wide plain spotted with violet pools and copses of feeble, dun-colored trees. Jagged mountains hung like curtains in a ring around the arid flatland. The roiling black clouds above cast everything in a pallid gloom, as if the whole of the demon’s realm stood poised at the moment just before the breaking of a terrible storm.

Creeg pointed to a distant glow, perhaps a dozen miles away beyond a wide swath of sickly woods. “Look there, in the distance,” he said. “I think something is burning down there!”

The alchemist removed a large rucksack from his shoulders, placed it upon the ground, and rummaged through its contents, finally producing an elegant spyglass. He held the device to his right eye and glanced at the vista for a moment before furrowing his brow in frustration. “It’s definitely a fire,” he said, “but I can’t make out much detail from here. I think it’s some kind of building.”

“Let me have a look,” said Aebos, snatching the glass from Creeg without waiting for the dandy’s permission. The alchemist sneered. Aebos smiled right back at him, pointing to the center of his forehead. “I’ve got an eye for this sort of work.”

Without aid of magnification, Korm could just make out the bright spot beyond the woods that had captured Creeg’s attention. Aebos glared through the alchemist’s scope and narrated what he saw.

“It’s definitely a structure,” he said. “Looks like some sort of mansion, like you might find in Andoran or Taldor. Human construction. Well made, too, but it’ll be totally consumed within the hour.” The cyclops frowned. “Too bad.”

“There are ruins not too far from the house,” he continued. “Broken stone walls, columns… There are people down there! Hmmmm. No. None of them are moving. Statues. Lots of statues. It seems ancient. Must be the remains of some kind of garden. Looks like the whole place is abandoned.”

“Scan the rest of the land down there,” Creeg ordered. “See if you can make out any other settlements.”

Aebos brought the spyglass across the landscape in a wide, slow arc before shaking his head and handing the implement back to the alchemist. “I see nothing else but pools and trees.”

“Then we will set off toward the garden and the burning building,” said Creeg. “Juval must be found there, and there is no time to waste.” He shouldered his pack and began walking away, seeking a path down from their lofty perch.

“Just wait a second, chef,” countered Korm. He pointed in the direction of the distant glow with his saber, letting his spirit rise slightly with the flinch of the pompous alchemist. “How do we know Juval is down there? That’s miles away, and we haven’t the proper equipment to climb down a sheer mountain. Why would the demon put the entrance to its lair so far away? And how do you fit twenty miles of hellscape inside a glass lens the size of a giant’s shield, anyway?”

“I work in chemicals, Calladan,” said Creeg. “Not planar physics. Even I don’t fully understand how all of this works. But I do understand that Juval has placed the entire kingdom of Nex in danger, and that said danger will not be resolved here on this ledge. We’ve a long walk ahead of us, and we best start off soon. It looks like more than a day’s march to the garden, and I don’t relish sleeping in this place any more than I have to.”