Allan Cole - Wolves of the Gods

"This a perfect illustration of my point," Iraj said. "They all begged for mercy, screaming and farting at every little poke Luka gave them … and what do we get for our pains?" Another wide gesture, paw becoming a hand again. "Nothing but a great deal of wasted time because we are unsure of their respect for me.

"I tell you, Fari, we're losing far too many taxpayers to get at the truth! If I learned anything from Safar, it was that! I mean, genocide is all very well for an ordinary king recapturing an ordinary kingdom. But if you want to be truly great, you must pay a mind to the royal treasury."

Fari bobbed his big scaly head with the ease of one who had tended to the moods of many kings. "I agree entirely, Majesty," he said. "All your wishes will be put into force immediately."

"That's good, Fari," Iraj said. "We don't want to give out too much hope, you know. Another thing I learned from Safar is that hope is a coin more precious than any metal, including gold. So let's give out hope sparingly, if you please. Let's make it count."

Across the tented room, Luka did something to the prisoner again and the sound of his pain rasped against the scab of Iraj's boredom.

"Enough!" he shouted. "Enough! This exercise is making no progress whatsoever … No matter what we do, the fellow's only going to repeat what the others said."

"As always, your Majesty," Lord Fari replied, "your instincts are on target. This is the township's mayor, after all. And I don't know why Prince Luka left him for last. In my experience the post requires a good deal of moral cowardice, so the truth and pulled fingernails will out, as they say."

He made a lazy wave at the mayor, who was gibbering protests and squirming against his restraints as Luka delicately cut his flesh away. "In the end he'll confess to the same thing as the others. He'll claim that Lord Timura and his ragtag army of villagers arrived one day and forced the town to sell him food and supplies. He'll say they had no choice but to comply. And that he is as surprised as we are that Lord Timura insisted on payment."

Fari hefted a small sack of gold in his talons. "Our friend paid quite handsomely too."

"So what's the point in listening to this fellow's whining, then?" Iraj demanded. He raised his voice so Luka could hear. "Kill him and be done with it!"

The prince shrugged, cut the mayor's throat, then ambled back to his seat on Iraj's right, wiping his talons on a rag as he went and dropping it to the ground. Luka had no doubt that his work had been discussed by the king and his old rival, Fari. So he automatically protested.

"I understand your impatience, Majesty," he said, "but we should have probed deeper. After all, we still don't know where Lord Timura went when he left this township. We don't even know which direction he took."

He rattled his talons on the arm of his chair. "One thousand people, gone, vanished. Or at least that's what these fools told us." He indicated the chained forms. "Someone had to have seen what happened,"

he said. "A thousand people just don't disappear. There's no wizard in the world who could do such a thing."

"Whatever the explanation, my prince," Fari said, "this is hardly the first time Lord Timura has accomplished the trick. When we showed up in Kyrania with the army, all we found was a smoking ruin.

The homes and fields were burned, so there was nothing for our soldiers to scavenge. And all the people had vanished."

Iraj glowered at the memory, wolf jaws grinding in frustration. "Where could they have gone?" he growled. "They were there two days before."

Fari shrugged. "That remains a mystery-as Your Majesty is well aware. Our trackers found the northern trail they took through the mountains from Kyrania. But once into the desert they lost it in a warren of rifts and barren canyons so complicated only a devil god could have been the creator."

He indicated the map board posted near their thrones. All the major cities, Naadan and Caspan included, were clearly marked. As were all the known roads and byways. However, unlike the special maps Safar had received from Coralean, none of the secret caravan tracks were shown. From the point of view of Iraj and cohorts, there was nothing but an impassable wilderness in those areas.

"Not only our trackers, but all my wizards have been confounded ever since," Fari continued. "We've been hunting Lord Timura for months without success. Sometimes he reappears at a town or city with a band of raiders to resupply his people. But when our troops reach there, he's vanished again without a trace. The next time we hear of him weeks have passed and somehow he's several hundred miles away."

To Luka's immense displeasure, Iraj smiled at Lord Fari. The demon wizard's calmly put litany of what was already known soothed the king somewhat and his face was back to normal.

"You have summed up our difficulties most succinctly, my lord," Iraj said. Then he immediately grew angry again, glaring at Luka. "At least Fari's using his gods given mind," he said. "Unlike some fiends I know."

Fari openly gloated at the demon prince. And Luka thought, you'll never change, you old fraud. First my father, now Protarus. Always posing as the all wise one, trying to appear superior at my expense.

But what he said, was, "Lord Timura will make a mistake by and by, Highness. They always do. It's the nature of such things."

Fari shifted tactics and nodded in wise agreement, "Quite true, my prince," he said to Luka. "Quite true."

But he was thinking, you're just like your father, you young fool. Nothing but cold porridge for brains.

Iraj's dark mood returned and he glowered at them both. Such useless creatures, he thought. Always quarreling and backstabbing. Telling lies to win his favor. If it weren't for the unbreakable Spell of Four that chained them all together, he'd have them taken out by his soldiers and beheaded. That would shutthem up once and for all!

"Enough excuses!" Iraj rumbled. "The point is we've failed. Despite the fact that I've had an entire army pursuing these peasants. Why, I'll soon be the laughing stock of all Esmir."

You already are, Luka thought, wishing not for the first time that it was he who wore the crown.

But all he said was, "I'll fetch some more prisoners, Majesty. Perhaps we'll have better luck with the next batch!"

Iraj slammed his fist on his throne arm! "Nonsense!" he roared. "All of it, nonsense! You've turned my tent into a charnel house for nothing!"

He leaned forward in his throne. "Let me make myself completely clear, brothers mine," he said. "We must have this man, Safar Timura, and his ridiculous child. And we must have them immediately. I will brook no more excuses, do you hear me?"

"We hear, Majesty," both demons muttered, bowing their heads and hating him and each other.

Just then there was the sound of bootsteps, sentries snapped to attention and Kalasariz was ushered into the big tent that was Iraj's traveling palace. The spy master was leading an old woman by a long chain that was locked about her waist.

"I've brought you a little present, Majesty," Kalasariz said, yanking the chain hard so the old woman stumbled. "For your afternoon pleasure, if you will."

Iraj was so surprised that his lower face erupted into a wolf's snout. "What kind of present is this?" he growled. "A skinny old woman with bones so brittle I'd choke on them."

"I'm not for eatin'!" the old woman exclaimed. "And if yer thinks yer gonner get any fun from tormentin' a poor old soul like me, yer gots 'nother think comin', Majesty! I'm so frail that if yer touched a hair on my head I'd up and die on yers."

"How amazing," Luka murmured. "The gift talks. Not very well, but it's amazing just the same."

"And now that's she's seen us," Fari said, "we'll have to kill her. How tiresome. Like she said, she's so elderly she'll be no sport at all."