Simon Hawke - The Nomad

The guards ushered them into the manager’s private chamber at the rear of the gallery. The room was brightly lit with oil lamps, and the whitewashed walls were hung with expensive-looking paintings of desert landscapes and village street scenes. There were several plants in large, ceramic containers set about the office, and the oiled, wood-planked floor was covered with an exquisite Drajian rug in muted tones of red and blue and gold. Three handsome, carved agafari chairs were placed in front of the manager’s large and ornate desk, on which there was a glazed ceramic tray holding a cut-glass decanter of wine and three goblets.

The manager of the Desert Palace sat behind his desk, but stood as they came in. He appeared to be in his late middle years, with dark hair liberally streaked with gray, which he wore down to his shoulders. He was clean-shaven, and his features were soft and delicate-looking. He wore a simple black cloth tunic and matching breeches, with no weapons or ornamentation.

“Come in,” he said, in a quiet, pleasant voice. “Please, sit down. Allow me to offer you some wine.”

“If you do not mind, I would prefer water,” Sorak said.

The manager raised his eyebrows slightly. “Some water for our guest,” he told a beautiful young serving girl.

“I will accept the wine,” Valsavis said.

“And you, my lady?” asked the manager.

“I would like some water, too,” Ryana said. The serving girl brought a pitcher of cold water and poured for them, then poured a goblet of wine for Valsavis. She served them, and then quickly left the room. The guards remained behind them, standing as impassively as statues.

“You seem to have done quite well in your gaming tonight,” the manager said. Valsavis merely shrugged. “I fear that we lost near the end,” said Sorak. “Yes,” the manager replied. “But only because you chose to lose on purpose. We have had psionicists in here before, you know. Admittedly, most were not as gifted as you are.”

“I am no psionicist,” Valsavis said, frowning. “No,” said the manager, “I do not think you are, good sir. But your friend, here, is. And so, I will wager, is the lady. You are villichi, are you not?” he asked Ryana.

She was surprised. “Most people: cannot tell,” she said.

“Yes,” said the manager, nodding, “you do not have the features one normally associates with the sisterhood, but you are unusually tall for a human female, and your physical attributes are ... well, rather remarkable. Clearly, you have had a lifetime of intense training. And your mastery of mind over matter is most impressive. My gamemaster was not convinced that you were cheating until five encounters from the conclusion of the game. I must admit that I am rather surprised to find a priestess at the gaming tables, and in such ... irregular circumstances... but then that is purely your concern.” He glanced at Sorak. “And as for you, sir, I must confess to unabashed and open admiration. Your skills are astonishingly subtle.”

“What gave me away?” asked Sorak.

“The game itself, my friend,” the manager replied. “We are experienced gamers here in Salt View. We pride ourselves on being the acknowledged masters of our trade. Our games are most carefully designed. No one has ever survived to complete an entire quest adventure. You, sir,” he added, with a glance at Valsavis, “have the distinction of being the very first to have done so. And you managed it by following your friend’s lead and having some good luck at the end. Only a psionicist could have successfully survived as many encounters as your companion did.”

“So?” said Valsavis.

“So it was cheating,” said the manager.

“And I suppose you want your money back,” Valsavis said.

“I wouldn’t dream of asking for it,” said the manager. “You have the look of a man who would not surrender it without a fight. I prefer to avoid violence, myself. I am not a strong man, as you can plainly see, and my guards are more accustomed to dealing with the occasional inebriated trader or disenchanted aristocrat than a seasoned warrior such as yourself. I merely wanted to congratulate you on your winnings-however ill-gotten they may have been-and to inform you that you are welcome to partake of any recreations our fine establishment has to offer for the remainder of the night, completely free of charge. On the sole condition that you avoid the gaming tables.

“My staff has been advised that they are closed to you. Of course, I would not object if you chose to leave and go elsewhere, but you will find that within the hour, every gaming house in Salt View will be alerted to your presence. We have, of course, many interesting diversions here, and you will be free to take advantage of them. You may find our fighting rings of interest, or perhaps our theater, which is superlative. But in any event, I extend to you the hospitality of the Desert Palace for the remainder of the night, and pray that you return our courtesy with courtesy in equal measure.”

“I have no interest in keeping the money I have won unfairly,” Sorak said. “And I can speak for the lady, as well. Valsavis speaks for himself, though we would hope that he follows our example. For our pan, we would be pleased to return all the winnings.”

“In that case, I suppose you may as well have mine, too,” said Valsavis dryly, throwing the heavy purse containing his winnings on the manager’s desk.

The manager frowned slightly. “I must admit, I am puzzled at your willingness to return the money. May I ask why?”

“I was hoping to see how you would try to take it from me,” said Valsavis.

“Somehow, that does not surprise me,” said the manager. Then he glanced at Sorak and raised his eyebrows. “I merely found the game itself of interest,” Sorak said. “I had never seen such an unusual game before.

I worked for a time in a well-known gaming house.

My duties were to expose cheats and cardsharps, and I was merely curious to see how you did so here.” The manager raised his eyebrows. “Had you but asked, my friend, and told me of your credentials and experience, I would have been only too glad to show you. And if you were looking for employment, there would have easier ways of making an impression. Tell me, where did you work before?”

“In Tyr, in a gaming house known as the Crystal Spider.”

“I am familiar with it,” said the manager, nodding. “May I ask your name?”

“It is Sorak.”

“Indeed?” the manager said, with some surprise. “You are the one they call the Nomad?”

Now it was Sorak’s turn to be surprised. “How is it that you know of me?”

“Word travels fast in certain circles,” the manager replied. “And I make it my business to find out about skillful individuals in my profession. You made quite a lasting impression in Tyr, it seems.” He glanced at Sorak’s sword. “I have heard about your sword, as well. A unique weapon in more ways than one, I’m told. If you seek employment, I would be privileged to make you an offer. And I am sure that positions could be found for your companions, as well.”

“Once again, I cannot speak for Valsavis,” Sorak said, “but although I thank you for your generosity, it is not employment that I seek, but merely information.”

“If I am unable to provide it,” said the manager, “I shall endeavor to find someone who can. What is it you wish to know?”

“I would like to know where I can find a druid known as the Silent One,” said Sorak, slipping back to allow the Guardian to probe the manager’s mind. However, it turned out to be entirely unnecessary.

“Is that all?” the manager asked. “Well, nothing could be simpler. You will find the Silent One in the Avenue of Dreams, on the south side of Main Street. Look for an apothecary shop known as the Gentle Path. The owner of the shop is named Kallis. Tell him that I sent you. The Silent One has quarters just above his shop.”