R. Salvatore - Bastion of Darkness

“Gargoyles?” Del asked.

“Big ugly ones,” Mamagoo explained, and she twisted her face in a manner to make it appear all too familiar to the three.

“Talons,” Belexus reasoned grimly.

“Dat’s why we made de sword, and udder swords,” Mamagoo explained. “But dat one, ooh, she be de best o’ de bunch!” She eyed the weapon as she spoke, moving right next to Belexus. “You know her name?” she asked solemnly.

The ranger shrugged and shook his head.

“Her name be Pouilla Camby,” Mamagoo said.

“A strange name for a sword,” Ardaz remarked.

“Pouilla be killed by de gargoyles,” Mamagoo explained. “Of course, dis all before I be born, before my mama’s mama’s mama be born.” She finished with a wink at the wizard.

“Of course,” Ardaz agreed, and he wasn’t sure what the private joke might be. It struck him then that Mamagoo might not be leveling with the others. Perhaps she, like Ardaz and his sister, like Istaahl and Thalasi, had indeed been touched, been blessed with long years, by the Colonnae, and had been alive all those decades, centuries even. More questions, the wizard thought, growing truly impatient. He would have to return here when the messy business with Thalasi was finished. Oh yes he would!

“So we make de sword and call her Pouilla,” Mamagoo continued, “and she go and do de bad tings to dem gargoyles!”

Belexus looked from the old woman to the beautiful sword.

“You not likin’ de name?” Mamagoo asked, seeing his less-than-bright expression.

Again, Belexus only shrugged.

“Den you just call her by any name dat you be pickin’,” Mamagoo offered, patting the huge man’s rump.

“Cajun,” Del said suddenly, drawing stares from all three.

“Cajun,” he repeated, smirking and looking at Ardaz.

“Oh, ho!” the wizard burst out suddenly. “Cajun. Oh jolly, how very jolly!”

Mamagoo and Belexus looked at each other, the large woman running her index finger in a circle about her ear.

“Cajun because it’s sharp!” the wizard roared. “Like the food; I remember the food!”

“I will find a name,” Belexus said dryly, reverently, to Mamagoo. He offered a glare to Del and Ardaz as he finished. “An appropriate name.”

“Dat you do,” the woman replied. Then, looking sidelong at the other two and shaking her large head-but smiling as she did-she left the chamber.

Much later that night, Ardaz stirred from a restless sleep. He left his companions snoring contentedly and slipped out of the chamber-to find the “guards” both snoozing comfortably-and picked his way down the dry and smooth tunnel. Voices soon drew him to a side room, and peeking in through the partly opened door, he found Mamagoo, Okin Balokey, and a third person, a younger woman he did not know, sitting in chairs about a blazing hearth, their backs to him.

“I tink dey mean to be fightin’ gargoyles,” Okin Balokey said.

“Dey good boys,” Mamagoo added, and Ardaz realized then that this third woman-a beautiful, slender creature with skin as dark as night and huge eyes-was someone of great importance. He also realized that while the accents remained, the tone of their voices had changed, had become more serious. Ardaz nodded as he considered the tactic. The Architects had seemed almost simple with their speech pattern to the wizard and his friends, jolly and innocent. But there was another side to them, grim and serious and far from simple. There had to be such a side, he understood, for them to have so thrived in such a dangerous environment. Like the elves of Lochsilinilume-to an outsider, at first glance, they would seem joyful to the point of frivolousness. But anger Arien Silverleaf and his kin and one would find as deadly an enemy as existed in all Aielle!

“We should be letting him keep Pouilla Camby,” Mamagoo went on.

Okin Balokey started to protest, but the young woman cut him off with a wave of her hand, looking to Mamagoo to elaborate.

“Dey be fighting gargoyles, and dat be a good ting,” the old woman reasoned. “Dey waked the dragon, but put de ting back in its hole, and dat be a good ting.”

“Unless de ting come back out,” Okin Balokey said grimly.

“His wing be pretty broken, man,” Mamagoo said. “And if he come out, he not be finding us.”

“He be finding dem three that got his treasure!” Okin Balokey reasoned, catching on to her plan.

“And dat put it all back where it be,” Mamagoo agreed.

“And if we got de sword, and old Salazar find out, den we be losing many tunnels, I tink,” the younger woman said, to which Okin Balokey could only nod his agreement.

“Dey be good boys,” Mamagoo said again. “And dat one wit de sword be stronger than any man I be seein’! Metinks dem gargoyles not to be a happy group when Belexus comes calling with Pouilla Camby!”

All three laughed at that.

“You be tinkin’ de same, old wizard man?” the younger woman said suddenly, obviously aiming her question at Ardaz.

With a huff and many throat clearings, Ardaz bumbled into the room. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, no, no,” he stammered. “Just walking along and heard you talking.”

“And you be liking what you be hearing?” Mamagoo asked.

“Yes, yes!” Ardaz beamed. “And you’re right, you know, all of you. None better at chopping gargoyles-we call them talons-than Belexus Backavar, no, no. He’s killed a few, he has, ha, ha, a few hundred!”

“He be a good boy,” Mamagoo said.

“He needs that sword now,” Ardaz tried to explain. “Our enemy, the one who leads the gargoyles, has brought forth a most evil beast, a wraith, you know.”

“Dead ting?” Mamagoo asked. Then, when Ardaz nodded, she shivered. “Ooo.”

“And that sword, that most beautiful sword, is the only weapon that might hurt it,” the wizard explained. “My sister-she’s a witch, you know-”

“I’m not liking my sister much eider, boss,” Okin Balokey said.

That stopped Ardaz short, until he took a moment to think about it. “Oh, no,” he explained. “Not that kind of a witch. A real one, of course. A real one, yes, yes. She found out about the sword, with magic, of course-witch magic, that-and, well, we came to find it.”

“And you did,” the younger woman said.

“Ah, but my manners be missing!” Mamagoo exclaimed suddenly. “Old Ardaz, dis be Calaireesa, chief of de Architect Tribe.”

The wizard bowed low in respect. His expression was one of curiosity as he came out of the bow, though. “Yes, well, I have been meaning to ask, and now seems a good time: Why are you called that? Not a usual name, after all: the Architect Tribe.”

“De book say so,” Calaireesa answered.

“Book?”

“De Architect Book,” the woman explained.

“Oh, de book, she save our lives,” Mamagoo added.

“She showed us how to make de tunnels and de rooms, boss,” Okin Balokey explained. “We all be children when first we came here.”

“Not ‘we,’ ” Calaireesa explained. “But de ancestors. Dey be children, and dey be cold, but de book, she showed dem how to make de tunnels.”

Now it began to dawn on Ardaz, yet another marvelous aspect of this unusual culture. With the exception of himself, Brielle, Istaahl, and Thalasi, all of the Calvan survivors of the holocaust had also been mere children. Perhaps the forefathers of the Architects had found a book, or many books, about architecture, a resource that taught them better how to survive in this new world. Might that have prompted them to consider the books as a sort of bible? “Oh how perfectly grand,” he beamed aloud, but quieted immediately out of respect.

“I would dearly love to see this book,” he said a moment later.