Simon Hawke - The Seeker

“And if they can succeed in eliminating him,” said Sorak, “then there will be nothing to stop them. They will complete their transformations, and then they will turn on one another.”

“Then they will all destroy each other,” said Korahna.

“Perhaps,” said Sorak. “But in the end, it is likely that one shall triumph. However, by that time, Athas will be reduced to a blasted, lifeless piece of rock.”

“They must be stopped,” said Korahna.

“The Sage is the only one who can stand a chance to do that,” said Ryana, “unless, somehow, the dragons can be killed before they are able to complete their transformations.”

“I will do everything I can to help,” Korahna said.

“You shall soon have that chance,” said Sorak, looking down toward Nibenay.

They entered the city by its main gate, two giant, stone columns set into the walls, carved in deep relief with the intertwining figures of serpents and fire drakes. The bored-looking half-giant guards passed them through without comment and without bothering to search them. There was a steady stream of people passing in and out, and in Nibenay, as in most cities of Athas, everyone went armed. The sight of a sword and a knife or two excited no comment.

Had they known that the three bedraggled-looking pilgrims carried metal swords, the guards might have been much more interested, but the day was hot and they could not be bothered to examine everybody passing through the gates.

Troublemakers soon found more than they had bargained for within the city walls. The templars did not tolerate violations of the city’s laws, and the half-giants who composed the city’s guard and army were usually more than enough to deal with any criminal.

The first thing they did was make their way to the city’s central marketplace, where they sold their kanks. Korahna would remain in Nibenay, and Sorak and Ryana had no idea how long they would be staying. When it came time to leave, they could either purchase kanks or book passage with a caravan, or even go on foot, as they had done before.

There was little point in expending their limited resources by stabling the kanks. Sorak’s practiced negotiation, aided by the Guardian’s psionic powers, enabled them to get a good price for the kanks, and the first of the proceeds bought them a good meal in one of the city’s taverns.

Korahna did not draw any curious glances. Since she had spent most of her life within the walls of the palace compound, none of the citizens of Nibenay could have known her by sight, save for those she had met in the Alliance, and they never would have recognized her. She looked nothing like a princess now.

Attired in the too-large clothing taken from the mercenaries and dusty from their journey, she looked nore like a desert herder than a scion of the royal house of Nibenay. Her long blond hair hung lank and loose and tangled, her face was begrimed, her hands were dirty and now callused, her once-long fingernails bitten short, and she had lost weight on the journey. She now looked lean and hard, and there was something in her face that had not been there before—a look of experience.

What curious looks they received were due less to her appearance than to that of Sorak and Ryana. Unlike most villichi, Ryana’s hair was silvery white rather than red, and though she lacked the unnatural elongation of the limbs that characterized villichi, she was unusually tall for a woman. Her height and coloring, together with her lean muscularity, made her an imposing figure.

Sorak was even more uncommon looking. The people of Nibenay had never seen an elfling before. At first glance, Sorak looked human, but still different, somehow. Many of those they passed on the streets turned to stare at him without quite knowing why. Those who were more observant might have noticed his pointed ears when the breeze blew his hair back, or else they might have marked the unusual, elven angularity of his features, or the lustrous thickness of his hair, like a halfling’s mane. They might have noted that he, too, was tall, though perhaps not unusually so for a human. But even the least observant of them, if they looked into his face, could not have failed to note his eyes, deeply sunken, and with a gaze so direct and penetrating that most people were forced to look away.

The tavern where they sat, near the central marketplace, was open to the air and covered by an awning/ so that they could watch the street and see the bustle of activity as evening approached and the traders began to close up their stalls for the day. Little by little, the marketplace began to empty as the shadows lengthened and people went home or repaired to taverns and other places of amusement. The tavern where they sat soon began to fill up with noisy patrons, looking to wash the dust of the marketplace and the heat of the day from their throats.

“So how does it feel to be back home?” Ryana asked.

“Strange,” replied Korahna, pushing away her dinner plate and looking around. “When I left, I never thought to see the city again. Now, after our journey through the barrens and the mountains, it seems strange to see so many people in one place. It feels ... oppressive.”

Ryana smiled. “I know just how you feel,” she said. “There is something about the solitude and beauty of the desert that invades one’s soul. It is as if it expands somehow, freed of the confines of a city or a village... or even of a villichi temple. Then, when you find yourself among people once again, you feel closed in and crowded.”

“Yes,” Korahna said, “that is exactly how it feels.”

“People were not meant to live in cities,” said Ryana. “Cities are artificial things, born of a need, at first, to band together for survival, and then of a convenience in terms of shelter, trade, and industry, and as the population grows more dense, the available space becomes confining, and the soul draws in to compensate for lack of room. People become less open. They are taken over by the faster rhythms that result from overcrowding. Everyone is always in a hurry, everyone is always in someone else’s way. People become more agitated, less trusting, more prone to react with violence. Cities are unhealthy things. They do not let people breathe freely.

“When I was a girl, I dreamt of going to a city because it seemed like an adventure. Now, I cannot imagine why anyone would want to live this way, like antloids in a hive. Maybe that is why defilers live in cities. They have forgotten what it is that they defile. They cannot love a world they only rarely see.”

“Still, it is my home,” Korahna said. “Here I was born, and here I grew up, and here I must make amends for having lived a life of privilege while others suffered. Cities shall never change, Ryana, unless someone works to change them.”

“Can a city be something other than what it is?” Ryana asked.

“Perhaps not,” the princess replied, “but it can be more than what it is. Surely, the effort is worthwhile.”

Ryana sighed. “It would be nice to think so.”

“It grows dark,” said Sorak. “And night is the best time to contact the Alliance. I shall feel better when I know that you are safely in their company.”

“Are you so anxious to be rid of me?” Korahna asked.

“No,” said Sorak. “Merely anxious to complete the task for which we came here. And I do not even know yet what that task might be.”

“And you think the Alliance shall know?”

“If the Alliance elders have contact with the Sage, then he shall let us know through them,” said Sorak.

“And if he does not?”

“Then I do not know what we shall do,” said Sorak. “The spell scroll bid us come to Nibenay. Well, we are here, at last. We have done our part. Now it is time for the Sage to do his.”