Troy Denning - The Obsidian Oracle

“The innkeeper said I’d find Nymos up here,” Agis said, walking to the reptile’s side.

The jozhal jumped as if someone had shouted into his ear, bringing his walking stick around to defend himself. Agis blocked the swing, then grabbed the cane to prevent the creature from making another attack. As the noble did so, he glimpsed the reptile slipping a small, spiral-shaped shell into a skin pouch on his belly.

The jozhal disengaged his walking stick from Agis’s grasp. “I’m Nymos,” he grumbled. “What do you want, Tyrian?”

The noble drew a second silver coin from his purse and placed it in Nymos’s small hand. “Marda said you could use this,” he said, guessing the jozhal had identified him by his accent. “I’m looking for a smuggler with a fast ship who can follow the fleet that left last night.”

Nymos rubbed the coin between the three fingers of his hand. “It’ll cost you more than a silver.”

“I’ll give you another when I find a captain I like,” Agis countered, wondering how the blind reptile could tell that he held silver instead of gold or lead.

Nymos slipped the coin into his stomach pouch. “I’m more interested in magic,” he said. “You wouldn’t have anything enchanted, would you?”

“I have nothing like that,” Agis replied. “I’m no sorcerer.”

The jozhal sniffed Agis’s satchel and belt purse, then shook his head in disgust. “Like trying to squeeze water from a stone,” he snorted. “I’d expect someone of your reputation to have an enchanted dagger or something.”

“My reputation?”

“Of course,” Nymos said. “Even in Balic, the bards sing of the noble who fought to free the slaves of Tyr-Agis of Asticles.”

The noble’s jaw fell slack in surprise. “What makes you think that’s me?”

The jozhal held out his bony hand. “Answers cost.”

Scowling, Agis gave him another coin.

“The streets are full of templars looking for the Tyrian who left his giant in Lord Balba’s field,” said the jozhal.

“So I’ve heard, but that isn’t the answer I paid for.”

“Your giant is less discreet with names than he ought to be,” replied Nymos. “Especially considering who you are.”

“I’m Tyrian, but that doesn’t mean I’m that one,” he said. “There must be a hundred men from Tyr in this city. Any of them could be Agis of Asticles.”

“True,” replied the jozhal. “But I suspect Agis is the only one with reason to follow Tithian.” At the mention of the king’s name, Nymos extended his hand for another coin.

“For one who charges so much, you certainly live in squalor,” observed Agis, handing over another silver.

“My information is not always of such value. Besides, I have a certain fondness for broy.” Nymos slipped the coin into his pouch, then said, “I overheard the high templar of the Balican fleet, Navarch Saanakal, escorting a Tyrian onto his flagship. He addressed the man as King Tithian.”

“You’ll have to do better for that last coin. I knew Tithian was aboard the fleet before I came here,” said Agis. “Did the king leave Balic so fast because he knew I was here?”

“You’re asking me to speculate,” Nymos said, raising his hand again. “That costs-”

“You haven’t earned my last silver yet,” Agis interrupted.

Nymos sighed. “I doubt he knew you were here,” he said. “The fleet left dock long before you reached the harbor-perhaps even before you entered the city.”

“That’s welcome news,” Agis said. “Now, what of the ship I need to hire?”

In reply, Nymos rubbed his mouth.

“With what I’ve paid you, you can buy your own broy,” Agis snapped.

The jozhal repeated the gesture twice more, both times slowly and deliberately.

“I’m not among those who wear the veil,” the noble said, finally recognizing the signal for what it was. “But I can tell you that in Tyr, the Veiled Alliance would not have charged three silvers for its help.”

“We are not in Tyr,” said Nymos. He sat down in the corner, using his cane to motion Agis to do the same. “But we hope someday to liberate Balic as you and Tithian did your city-which is why I’ve lived on this rooftop for the last decade. Nothing leaves or enters this port unless I hear about it.”

“So you have proven,” Agis said, still indignant about the fee Nymos had demanded of him. “Does that mean you’ll guide me to a reliable captain?”

“Yes, if you tell me what’s going on here,” Nymos said. “Andropinis is not the type to lend his fleet, especially to the king of the Free City.”

Agis shrugged. “I don’t know. All I can tell you is this: Tithian has more in common with Andropinis than with the hero legends make him out to be. The reason I’m following him is that he sent a tribe of slavers to attack a small village-one of Tyr’s allies.”

“Because I am short and blind, do not mistake me for a fool!” Nymos hissed. “Even in Balic, we know of Tithian’s deeds. He freed the slaves. He made a public marketplace of the gladiatorial stadium. He gave the king’s fields to the poor. He-”

“Yes, he did all those things,” interrupted Agis. “But in Tyr, the king’s power is not final. The Council of Advisors forced him to issue every one of those edicts. Rest assured that if the choice were his, Tyr would be a tyrant’s plaything.”

Nymos was quiet for a long time. Finally, he asked, “Why should I believe you?”

“Because if you know of Tithian’s reputation, you must also know mine. I wouldn’t say these things unless they were true.” When this didn’t seem to convince Nymos, he added, “From what I’ve said, you must realize that we can’t both be honest. To choose between us, ask yourself who’s sailing with Andropinis’s fleet.”

“Maybe he has a good reason for his actions,” the jozhal suggested, still reluctant to accept that the legendary king of Tyr was just as corrupt as any other ruler.

“You know that can’t be. King Andropinis would not help him if his cause were a worthy one,” said Agis. “Besides, there’s no justification for taking slaves. By breaking Tyr’s most sacred law, Tithian has become a fugitive from his own realm.”

“Not a fugitive,” Nymos said. “If your king were fleeing Tyr’s justice, he would have stayed in Balic, under our king’s protection. No, Tithian wants something with that fleet-and whatever it is, Andropinis wants him to have it.”

Agis frowned. “What could it be?”

Nymos shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “But the giants are fighting among themselves. By sending out his fleet, Andropinis has risked drawing Balic into the war. Whatever Tithian is after, it must be something of great importance.”

Agis rose to his feet. “Which is all the more reason I must hurry.”

Nymos also stood. “This concerns Balic as much as it does Tyr. I’m coming with you.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“Perhaps not,” replied the jozhal. “But in ten years, this is the first good excuse I’ve had to get off this roof. You have no choice in the matter.”

“The trip will be too dangerous,” Agis objected.

“Don’t assume that I can’t take care of myself,” hissed Nymos. “Nothing makes me angrier.”

Agis sighed. “Very well. I wouldn’t want to upset you.”

“Then we have a bargain?”

“Yes,” the noble said. “But that means we’re partners. I’m not paying you another silver.”

“That’s just as well,” said Nymos, taking the noble’s arm. “You’ll need what’s left to hire the smuggler. There’s only one ship that can follow where the fleet’s going, and its captain drives a hard bargain.”

“Then you know Tithian’s destination?” Agis inquired.