Simon Hawke - The Seeker

“And placed them in jeopardy, in the first place.”

Sorak replied wryly. He sheathed the blade. “Still, it is a fine and wondrous blade.”

“And we shall yet have need of it,” Ryana said. They started walking, heading through the grove of trees and keeping under their protective cover as long as possible.

“It feels rather strange not to have Korahna along,” said Sorak as they walked. “I had grown rather fond of her.”

Ryana nodded. “As did I. At first, I disliked her, but she proved to be much more than what her appearance had suggested. Do you think she will be safe?”

“No,” said Sorak. “And I do not think she would have it any other way.”

Ryana smiled. “At least she will have a chance to get some rest,” she said. “Every muscle in my body feels tired and sore.”

“We will try to find a sheltered place to rest a while shortly after daybreak,” Sorak said. “We have a long walk ahead of us.”

“I don’t suppose Screech could scare up a kank?”

“In the Ivory Plain? I would not count on it. And it is doubtful we shall find wild kanks this close to the city. No, I am afraid we have no choice but to go on foot.”

“Do you think they will pursue us?”

“Perhaps,” said Sorak. “But I suspect they will think we have found shelter with the Veiled Alliance. They will search the city for us first. By the time it occurs to them that we have fled beyond the walls, we will be long gone.”

They soon reached the end of the grove, beyond which acres of cultivated rice fields spread out before them. They waded through the irrigated fields, past darkened, outlying estates, both of them feeling too tired to do much talking. Soon, they reached ground that was more sparsely covered with vegetation. The ground was sloping slightly, and Ryana knew that it would not be long before they reached the desert once again. They had filled their water skins back at the canal, but she knew she would have to make the water last as long as possible. And chances were it would not be long enough. By daybreak, they had reached a ridge and stopped to rest among the rocks. As the sun came up, she looked out over the ridge and saw, in the distance, a vast expanse of white land, gleaming in the morning sun.

“The Great Ivory Plain,” said Sorak.

Far in the distance, Ryana could see the outline of the Mekillot Mountains, their next destination. “Well,” she said with an air of resignation, “I had always wanted to go on a long pilgrimage.” She sighed. “However, this is not quite what I had in mind.”

There was no reply from Sorak. She turned to find him stretched out on the ground in the shadow of the rocks, fast asleep. This time, the Ranger did not come out, nor did any of the others. Their body’s wariness had finally caught up with them.

“Sleep well, Nomad,” she said, stretching out beside him. “We have both earned our rest.” She closed her eyes and thought of the forests of the Ringing Mountains, of the flowing river and spreading canopy of trees. It seemed to belong to another lifetime now. She wondered, briefly, what life would have been like had she chosen not to follow Sorak, but remain at the villichi temple. It would have been, she thought, a pleasant, peaceful and serene life . . . and utterly predictable. She had no regrets. And as she fell asleep, she smiled.

Epilogue

The weary travelers looked utterly exhausted as they fell asleep beside each other on the sheltered rock ledge looking out over the plain below. They slept in shadow, protected by the overhanging rock as the dark sun rose above them, reflecting in myriad sparkles off the vast expanse of salt and quartzite crystal that was the Great Ivory Plain. They would have a long, hard journey ahead of them when they awoke, and when they reached the Mekillot Mountains, they would face still greater challenges. With a sigh, the white-robed figure passed a long and bony hand over the surface of the scrying crystal, and it clouded over. The faces of the weary travelers faded from view, as if disappearing into a mist. The large and perfect sphere went as dark as the black velvet on which its silver stand stood.

“Let them rest a while in peace, Kinjara,” said the Sage, turning from the scrying crystal. “We shall look in on them another time.”

The rare white-and-black striped kirre made a low growling noise, rising in tone. It raised its massive head and its twin ramlike horns and twitched its long, barbed tail.

“What is it, Kinjara? You are hungry?”

The kirre gave an answering growl.

“Well, do not look to me. You know which way the door is. If you are hungry, then you must hunt. That is the way of things.”

The kirre growled plaintively.

“Do not give me that. Yes, of course I am still your friend. But you are a wild creature. Simply because I provide you with shelter and companionship, do not expect me to start feeding you, as well. You would only become spoiled.”

The kirre grunted and exposed its huge teeth in irritation as it rose up from the floor on its eight muscular legs and moved with lithe grace toward the door.

“That’s a good kitty,” said the Sage. “And remember our agreement. Do not kill any birds.”

The kirre gave an answering grunt.

“No, I am sorry. No birds and that is final. I will not have you looking at me hungrily when my wings begin to sprout. I know your sort.”

Grrrrrr.

“And the same to you. Go on now, get.”

Another robed and hooded figure approached from across the room. At first glance, it might have been taken for a human, except that it was very large, just over six feet tall, and extremely wide in the shoulders and upper torso. There were other peculiarities about its proportions. The arms seemed unusually long, and the hands had only four clawlike fingers, ending in sharp talons. The feet, too, were very large and bird-like, more like claws than feet. And from beneath the robe there hung a reptilian tail. As the figure stepped into the light, the face within the hood became visible. It was not even remotely human. The open beak revealed rows of small, very sharp teeth, and the yellow, lizardlike eyes were covered with nictitating membranes. The creature emitted a series of low, clicking sounds.

“Yes, they have secured the Seals,” said the Sage, turning toward the pterran. “You see, Takko, you were wrong. They did survive the Stony Barrens, as I knew they would.”

The pterran spoke once more in its peculiar, clicking, chirping language.

“Yes, I have sent them to see the Silent One, whose help they will require in the next step of their journey.”

The pterran chirruped again.

“No, the Silent One is not crazy. A bit peculiar, perhaps; eccentric, to be sure, but crazy? No, I do not think so.”

The pterran clicked.

“What do you mean, am I sure? How can anyone be sure of anything in this world?”

Click-click, click-click-chirp-click, click-click-chirp.

“I am not equivocating! Life is merely full of uncertainties, that is all. Even I cannot know everything. For certain, that is.”

The pterran spoke once more. “The pain? The pain is not so bad today, thank you for asking. It is just a general, dull ache. I scarcely notice it. It will grow worse with the next stage of the transformation, but I am not yet quite prepared for that. Our friends shall have to provide a few necessary ingredients, first.”

The pterran clicked in an interrogative manner.

“Yes, next they must secure the Breastplate of Argentum.”

The pterran clicked again.

“Yes, in Bodach.”

The pterran emitted another series of sharp sounds.

“I know there are undead in Bodach. What do you want from me? I did not put them there.”