Allan Cole - The Gods Awaken

But the higher Palimak climbed the more worried he became. Some of his worries were natural-his father's blindness made him feel he'd once again had to shoulder a burden much too heavy for one so young.

Reason told him this wasn't the case-Safar's blindness in no way diminished his wizardly powers. Nor did his father seem to be affected physically apart from his sight problem. Actually, he seemed much stronger than before.

However, Palimak could not shake off the sensation that something was very wrong-both with his father and with the journey itself. He couldn't get a grip on what was troubling him.

Hadin's air was so full of wild bits and flashes of magic that he couldn't trace the source of what was troubling him. Some of it came from Safar, some from the queen and her courtiers, but most seemed to emanate from the road ahead, and from the towering volcano.

Stirring music still wafted down from the airship, as Biner followed the procession on high. There was more to Biner's choice of music than mere pomp and ceremony. It was also a signal that all was well as far as the lookouts aboard the airship could see. If any danger was spotted, Elgy and Rabix would begin playing fierce music full of trumpets and war drums.

As the procession moved along the road, farmers in the terraced fields stopped their work to see what all the noise was about. Clad in loin cloths and broad-brimmed straw hats to shield them from the sun, they all radiated a feeling of the inner peace that comes from tilling the land.

Then the queen led them around a sharp bend. Along one side were hundreds of nearly naked beggars all crying for alms and bemoaning their infirmities.

Palimak dropped back to tell his father about the beggars-although the loud cries they made surely enlightened him to what was going on. Safar nodded, then called for Renor and Seth who trotted up with large leather saddlebags bulging with silver coins. At Safar's signal they began scattering the coins to the beggars.

Safar had come into the queen's presence well prepared for any eventuality. Although he couldn't have anticipated the journey they were now on, he had guessed that they would encounter the kingdom's poor.

"There are beggars in every realm," he'd said. "And whenever and wherever royalty is welcomed, the beggars turn out to test the visiting king's generosity. So if we want to make a good impression on this queen, we'd better be ready for her beggars."

And ready they were, with hundreds of silver coins being tossed into the air by Renor and Sinch. The two young soldiers went at their task eagerly, as if they were fabulously rich and dispensing their own wealth instead of Safar's.

They joked with the beggars, who all crowded around, blocking the road.

"Here's some for you, pretty lady," Sinch said to an old woman-pushing the laughing mob back so she wouldn't be shut out.

The toothless granny cackled with delight, both at the coins in her palm and the handsome young man who'd given them to her.

"Pretty yourself," the old woman said. "I'd rather have yer warmina€™ me bed than take your money!"

Sinch laughed with much good nature, giving the granny a kiss on her dirty cheek.

A legless man in a push cart knuckled his way forward, crowding close to Khysmet. Renor stepped in to block his way gently and tossed three silver coins on the beggar's cart.

The man opened his mouth to thank Renor, displaying rotting teeth and a short stump of a tongue. The wet smacking sounds of thanks that came from his mutilated mouth were a horror to someone of Renor's inexperience. Like all Kyranians he'd lived such a sheltered life in the mountains that such things were unknown to him.

Renor suppressed a shudder. Then he felt overwhelmed by guilt for his reaction and pressed two more coins into the beggar's hands.

More horrible noises followed as the legless one pushed in closer. Another beggar stumbled over him, making him lose his balance and reached out wildly, grabbing Khysmet's tail.

The stallion grunted in protest at the rude handling, jerking forward. Several long strands of snow-white hair pulled loose: the legless beggar waved them in Renor's face and spewed more obscene sounds, as if the horse hairs were a fabulous gift.

To Renor's surprise, he heard Palimak shout to him: "Hold that man!"

It was as if all of Renor's brains had run out of his head, because for the life of him he couldn't figure out what Palimak was asking. He gaped about, dismissing the amputee from his mind to look for a man with all his parts.

Then Palimak came rushing up. "The beggar!" he shouted. "The one in the pushcart. Where did he go?"

For the life of him, Renor couldn't figure out why Palimak would be upset about someone so unfortunate that he even lacked legs. But he looked around as he was commanded and to his surprise he realized that the man he'd been ordered to find was gone.

In his stead other beggars were crowding in, crying, "Alms! Alms for the poor!" And, "Baksheesh!

Baksheesh!"

Then he heard Safar call out, "Palimak! Get over here right away!"

And then the whole column became a confusion of soldiers and beggars that tied the road into a knot of chaos.

Tabusir was a patient spy. He didn't mind waiting for his prey to come to him. As a matter of fact, he quite enjoyed the wait, planning many plans, anticipating the split second of enjoyment that came when he snatched a secret from beneath the very noses of his enemies.

Then there was the escape to dream about. The greater thrill was to slip away undiscovered and keep the secret of the encounter deep within your breast. Less exciting was to be discovered and to have to wrest yourself from the wrath of the discoverers.

Oh, to be sure, there was the thrill of the chase. But Tabusir had always considered a chase to be the result of his own failure to remain unobserved.

As all spies know, the ultimate value of a secret diminishes in proportion to the number of people who know it. And it is vastly diminished if the enemy realizes his secret has been revealed.

And so it was that when Palimak shouted, "Hold that man!" Tabusir felt diminished. He'd spent three days and two nights waiting for his chance to steal the secrets of the Timuras.

His scant knowledge of the local customs and dialect had only made his planning more exciting. All he knew came from the fishermen Rhodes had captured and tortured. Although Tabusir considered himself a master at language and its local nuances, the screams and groans of men in pain was no way to learn it.

Instead, he'd concentrated on the looks of the men. Ignoring their pain-twisted countenances, he had focused on their thick dark hair and sun-bronzed bodies. One of the men was toothless and his painful babble could barely be understood. This was what had given Tabusir the inspiration for his disguise.

If he pretended he couldn't speak, Tabusir reasoned, then he wouldn't be able to give himself away by using a faulty accent. To make sure people would think he was mute, he made a little device to fit over his tongue which gave it the appearance of being a stump. To further revolt anyone looking at him, he blackened his teeth with charcoal so they looked as if they were rotting.

Then all he had to do was dye his hair and stain his body with walnut juice so he'd look like a native and be able to mingle with the other beggars of Hadin. The cart, which he'd carried with him from Syrapis for just this purpose, had a false bottom that hid his legs.

Tabusir had landed on the island at night and had hidden the little boat among some rocks. Then he'd waited for Safar's arrival. It was the main topic of conversation among all the beggars. There was much excitement and anticipation of how charitable the great King Timura would be. Everyone also knew their queen would escort Safar to the Castle of the Two Kings and there was much dispute over the best place to wait for him.