Troy Denning - The Obsidian Oracle

Tithian accepted the news with little emotion, for he had not yet confirmed its significance to him. “If I take the Dark Lens to him, Rajaat will make me a sorcerer-king?”

“It’s not our place to promise that,” Wyan said. “We’re only his spies in the city of Tyr.”

“But, through the Shadow People, we’ve told Rajaat of your ambitions,” said Sacha. “And we’ve received word back that if you aid him, you’ll be pleased with your reward.”

Tithian smiled and released his grip on the pair’s topknots. “What do I have to do?”

Before the heads could answer, Kester came rushing back from the bridge. She stopped at the edge of the pit, about two yards from the blade that had pierced Sacha’s temple. In her hands, the tarek held the last pair of throwing knives from her harness. Her eyes were fixed on the dagger in Tithian’s hand.

Inside his mind, Tithian heard Wyan’s voice. Get rid of her. She’s sided with Agis .

“What’s going on here?” Kester demanded.

“Not what you think, apparently,” Tithian replied, slowly extending the handle of his dagger to Kester. “I thought you might want this back.” When the tarek made no move to accept the weapon, the king shrugged and laid it on the ground. “I see Agis’s paranoia is catching.”

Kester seemed to relax, but did not sheath her own weapons. “What about them?”

“We came to apologize,” said Wyan.

“Sometimes our jokes get carried away,” added Sacha.

“That was no joke,” the tarek said, fangs half-bared.

“It certainly wasn’t. Fylo was hurt badly,” agreed Tithian. With a scornful look, he waved the heads back from the circle, then returned his attention to Kester. “You should come back over here. Agis doesn’t trust me to keep the crack open, and he won’t take the rope down to Fylo until he sees you.”

“What?” the tarek shrieked, sheathing her daggers. “He’s wasting time waiting for me?”

“He hasn’t moved,” Tithian said with a smirk. He leaned down and plucked the slack rope. “See? No weight.”

Kester leaped onto the black circle. She collected the dagger that Tithian had laid down a few moments before and knelt beside the crack. She started to put her face down to speak to Agis, then abruptly drew back as Sona’s glowing visage rose from the hole. Once the Castoff had drifted away, she leaned down and said, “I’ve had enough waiting, Agis!”

Despite her anger, Tithian noticed that she was keeping one eye fixed on him. Smiling, the king stepped over to where she could see him more easily, clasping his hands behind his back. He turned his gaze on the dagger lying at the edge of the pit, the one with which Kester had attacked Sacha, and opened a pathway to his spiritual nexus. Being careful not to alarm the tarek by moving even slightly, Tithian visualized the knife resting in his hand. A prickle of energy rose from deep within himself, then he felt the cold weight of the weapon’s hilt in his palm.

“Now that you’re here,” Tithian asked, “is our friend going after Fylo?”

The king leaned forward as if to look over the tarek’s shoulder. Instead of peering down at Agis, however, he began counting down the prominent row of vertebrae showing between Kester’s muscular shoulders. This had to be done exactly right, Tithian knew, for he had seen enough gladiatorial contests to realize that tareks often fought for many seconds after death. If his strike did not paralyze as well as kill, Kester could easily take him with her.

“He’s climbing down now,” Kester said, frowning at the king’s proximity.

Tithian’s arm flashed, plunging the dagger deep into Kester’s back. The tip entered exactly where he intended, low and between the shoulder blades, so that the blade severed the spinal cord on its way to the heart. The tarek’s astonished cry died in her throat, and her body went limp without so much as a reflexive twitch.

“We should have left when I wanted to,” Tithian said.

The king shoved Kester’s shoulders into the narrow crack, then jumped on her back to force her farther down. If he could jam her body in the crevice securely enough, Agis would not be able to free it before growing too exhausted to keep the lid’s magic from sealing itself.

Once he felt convinced that it would be impossible to dislodge the body within the necessary time, Tithian leaped off the dark circle. His feet had barely touched solid ground before Agis’s muffled voice sounded from beneath Kester’s body. “Tithian!”

The king turned around. He could see Kester’s back jerking as Agis tried to pull her free.

Yes, Agis? he asked, using the Way so his words would not be muffled by the pit cover. You haven’t changed your mind about my offer of immortality, have you?

Don’t flatter yourself , the noble replied.

You could have tried lying, you know , Tithian said. There’s a chance that I might have wanted to believe you enough to fall for it .

Sacha and Wyan floated over to his side and started to urge him to leave, but the king raised a hand to keep them silent.

Whatever else you are, you’re not stupid , Agis observed. Besides, I’m not the liar around here .

True, but look what your honesty’s earned you , the king said. You’re too noble for your own good . There was a note of genuine remorse in the statement.

When Agis did not respond, Tithian kept a watchful eye on Kester’s body, knowing that his old friend was trying to stall him until the passage could be cleared.

Agis took a moment before answering. I’m not as virtuous as you think , said the noble. If I was, your talk of the Dark Lens would never have diverted me from my original purpose .

The lens is real enough! Tithian objected.

I know-but so is my promise to return you to Tyr , Agis said. By putting that off, I’ve stained my honor and broken my word, in principle if not in deed .

I wouldn’t know about such distinctions , replied the king. Perhaps that’s the reason you’re doomed to fail, while I’m destined to become a sorcerer-king .

I thought that wasn’t possible? Agis inquired, the tone of his question betraying both distress and suspicion.

Come now, do you think I’d betray you for anything less? Tithian asked. He started toward the exit, motioning for Sacha and Wyan to follow along. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, my friend, but I have an Oracle to find .

Don’t think you’ve won, Tithian! This isn’t over!

The king paused and studied Kester’s body for a moment. The tarek’s body was still jerking as Agis tried to clear the exit, but Tithian saw no sign that his friend was close to dislodging the corpse.

The king smiled. Of course it’s not over , he allowed. I still have plans for you .

A jagged boulder sailed over the wall, smashing the chitinous plate between the sparkling, many-faceted eyes of a mantis-headed warrior. The giant bellowed and raised his hands to the wound, stumbling backward until he tumbled off the ramparts and crashed headfirst atop a rock pile. The Saram’s neck snapped with a loud crack, then his enormous body rolled onto a pair of boys who had been passing stones up to their elders.

The death went almost unnoticed amidst the chaos of the battle. All along the wall, Saram tribesmen stood silhouetted against the yellow sky of dawn, hurling stones and insults at the enemies surrounding Castle Feral. The Joorsh were responding with a barrage of their own. From every corner echoed the sound of boulders shattering against the ramparts, a steady cadence of resonant booms that rumbled through the citadel like an exploding volcano.