Troy Denning - The Obsidian Oracle

It quickly became apparent that Nymos had no clear idea of where he was going. The jozhal’s tracks often doubled back on themselves, or circled around three sides of a block before continuing down the same lane that he had been in originally. At times, the trail became so confused that Agis could not follow it, and he would give a coin to a dirt-smudged child or grimy-faced mother in return for telling him which way the reptile had gone. On several occasions, he even asked directions of someone who told him that Nymos had asked how to reach a particular inn or tavern.

Finally Agis emerged from the shanty warren at the edge of the harborside road. Across the street lay a long wharf, along which rested six sloops with towering masts and huge sails furled on their yardarms. Slaves were busily laboring at each ship, unloading building stone, timber, wool, and even a flock of erdlus-tall, flightless birds with sharp beaks and huge legs.

Near the end of the dock, a two-masted caravel hovered on the surface of the bay. Its square sails hung unfurled and flapping in the breeze, ready to be drawn tight. The figures of more than a dozen men crawled over the rigging, making the ship ready to sail. The helmsman was looking down the quay, as if awaiting some signal to set the craft in motion.

Nymos was nowhere in sight, his tracks lost in the hundreds of others crisscrossing the road.

“I’m given to know yer lookin’ for a ship,” said a gravelly voice at Agis’s side.

The noble turned to face the speaker and found himself looking into the savage eyes of a tarek female, as powerfully built as a mul and with arms so long the knuckles dragged in the dust. The tarek had a square, big-boned head, with a sloping forehead and a massive brow ridge. Sharp fangs filled her domed muzzle, while her flat nose ended in a pair of red, flaring nostrils. From the lobes of her barbed ears hung three copper hoops, a substantial exhibition of wealth for this part of the city-and one that suggested the woman was the match for any cutthroat who might take it into his head to steal the prized metal. She wore a filthy silken breechcloth with a broad belt around her waist, and her four breasts were covered by nothing but a leather harness holding several bone daggers.

“At the moment, I’m looking for a blind jozhal,” Agis replied cautiously.

The tarek nodded toward the caravel. “Nymos’s aboard,” she said, slipping a hand inside Agis’s cloak and reaching for his purse.

The noble clamped a hand around the tarek’s arm, but did not have the strength to prevent her from plucking the sack off his belt. “I don’t lack the skills to protect my wealth,” Agis warned.

“And I don’t lack the strength to take it,” sneered the tarek, pulling the purse out. “But that’s not what I’m about. Before I take ye on, I’ll have a look to make sure ye can afford me ship.”

She opened the sack and peered inside, then raised an approving eyebrow. “Kester’s my name.” She plucked fifteen silver coins from the bag, then handed it back to Agis. “This covers the first week.”

“That’s rather expensive,” Agis answered, not closing his purse. “In fact, it’s outrageous.”

“It is,” Kester assured him, slipping the coins into the purse hanging on her belt. “But ye won’t be hiring any other boat to follow the king’s fleet to the isle of Lybdos.”

“I suppose not,” Agis replied, closing his purse. “I trust you’re worth it.”

“Some say I am-and some say I’m a pirate,” she replied, leading the way across the street.

“Which is it?” Agis asked. “After what I’ve just paid you, I deserve to know.”

The tarek shrugged. “I never know from one day to the next.”

No sooner had they set foot on the dock than a streak of blinding light sizzled past the noble’s shoulder, striking a nearby sloop. A deafening crack rolled over the quay, and the ship’s mast collapsed in a rain of splinters. Agis and Kester hit the ground, surrounded by screaming slaves. Together, they rolled to their backs, facing the harborside street as they returned to their feet.

Across the way stood the female templar and her colleague. The traitorous sailor, Salust, was just stepping out of the alley from which Agis had come. A few yards behind him followed several half-giant guards.

“Seize that man!” yelled the female templar, pointing at Agis. “I command it in the name of King Andropinis!”

Kester looked at the noble and raised her heavy brow. “Nymos didn’t say ye were wanted by the king.”

Seeing that there were too many opponents to disable with the Way alone, the noble reached for his sword. The tarek lashed out with her gangling arm and caught the noble’s hand before he could draw. “A wise man’d leave that sheathed.”

Agis fixed his eyes on Kester’s face, summoning the energy to use the Way. “I see you’ve chosen pirate today,” the noble replied.

An indignant frown flashed across Kester’s face, but the tarek kept her eyes turned toward the templars and made no response.

Salust slipped between the templars. “The bounty is mine,” he said, pointing at Kester. “I’m not splitting it with that smuggler.”

Kester snarled at the man, then motioned for the templars to come forward. “If there’s a reward, I’ll be wantin’ my share.”

“And you shall have it,” said the male templar.

He and his companion started up the quay, accompanied by the bitterly complaining Salust. The trio’s half-giant escorts started to follow, but the woman signaled them to wait on the street.

“We have things under control,” said the sour-faced templar, picking her way past a heap of building stone. “You’ll just be in the way.”

Kester abruptly released Agis’s hand, then pulled a dagger from her chest harness. “I’ll take the woman!” she hissed.

With a flick of her wrist, the tarek sent the dagger sailing straight to the templar’s throat. The woman clasped her hands around the wound and dropped, gurgling, to the ground.

Even as she fell, Agis reached for one of Kester’s daggers.

The noble had no delusions about being able to throw a dagger accurately over such a distance, but he had other means of delivering the blade. After pulling the weapon from the tarek’s chest harness, the noble tossed the knife at the second templar, then used the Way to guide its path. The dagger took its victim in the same place the tarek’s blade had taken the female.

Salust paled and started to back away. At the same time, the half-giants waiting on the street screamed in fury, then stepped onto the quay. They did not rush, however. The half-giants were too large to run without the risk of tripping over a slave or stack of cargo.

“Thanks for standing by me,” Agis said.

“Ye paid me already,” the tarek replied in a gruff voice. She pulled another dagger from her harness.

“Next time, I won’t be so fast to take yer silver.” With that, she threw her weapon at Salust. The blade sank deep into the sailor’s breast. He collapsed, clutching at the leg of a passing half-giant. The brute angrily shook the dying man off, then hurled his club at Kester. The tarek ducked easily, and the big cudgel bounced off the hull of a nearby ship.

Agis drew his sword, bracing himself to meet the half-giants.

Kester grabbed him by the arm. “No need to fight,” she said. “Those oafs can’t catch the likes of us.”

“Then why’d you kill Salust?” Agis said, glancing over his shoulder. Slaves and dockmasters were cringing in terror as the half-giants stepped over them, shoving cargo off the pier and cursing in anger.

“Never trusted him,” she said, pulling the noble down the quay at a sprint.

They dodged past a stack of baled wool, pushed their way through a screeching flock of erdlus, then they were running for Kester’s caravel. As they came closer to the ship, the noble saw that it carried a dozen ballistae and catapults on each side.