Troy Denning - The Obsidian Oracle

In spite of his words, the noble laid Sacha on the ground next to the satchel, placing a foot on the disembodied head to hold him in place. “Still, there’s no harm in checking. How does this thing work?”

“Put your hand inside and picture the lens,” the head said. “If it’s in there, it will come to your hand.”

“What does the lens look like?” the noble asked.

“How should I know?” Sacha snarled.

“Rajaat used it to imbue you with the powers of one of his Champions,” Agis replied, pressing his foot down on the head.

“It’s big, obsidian, and round,” came the strained reply. “That’s all I remember-I was in pain, and the tower was full of flashing light.”

Agis gripped the satchel beneath the elbow of his broken arm, preparing to thrust his good hand inside. Before he did so, he looked down at the head and said, “If this is a trick, I’ll tie you to a rock and drop you in the Bay of Woe.”

“I want to locate the Oracle as much as you do,” snarled Sacha. “And to find out what happened to Tithian.”

Agis put his hand inside the sack and pictured a large obsidian sphere, similar to the ones that they had found in Kalak’s treasury when they killed him. An instant later, he felt the cool, glassy surface of obsidian in his hand. The noble pulled his hand out of the satchel and saw that it contained an obsidian ball about the size of his own head.

“Too small,” hissed Sacha. “Try again.”

Agis tossed the sphere aside and returned his hand to the satchel. This time, however, as he pictured what he imagined the Oracle to look like, he also concentrated on the cool, smooth feel of the glassy stone, hoping the added detail would compensate for never having seen the lens.

When nothing came to his hand, the noble shrugged. “Nothing.”

Sacha looked back toward the ceiling. “Then he had to have taken it out through the crevice,” said the head.

Keeping the satchel tucked under his broken arm, Agis picked Sacha up again. “What about magic, or the Way?” he asked. “Could Tithian have used his powers to take the lens out of here without going through either exit?”

“Anything’s possible with the lens,” said Sacha. “Which is all the more reason we should leave now.”

Agis frowned. “Why are you so anxious to get me out of here?”

“Because that traitor Tithian has a good lead on us,” sneered Sacha. “Let’s go.”

Agis shook his head. “I think not,” he said. “It strikes me that you’re trying to hide something. Tithian’s still down here, isn’t he?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” hissed Sacha. “You can see for yourself we’re the only ones here.”

“And what about Wyan?” asked the noble. “I suppose you’re going to tell me you don’t know where he is?”

Sacha’s gray eyes widened. “He was supposed to be watching the entrance to the tunnel,” he said. “Didn’t you see him there?”

“No, I didn’t,” Agis growled, stuffing Sacha into the satchel. “And I’m tired of your lies.”

The noble closed the sack and folded the top over to form a tight seal, then, using his knees to help hold it, he bunched it together in a ruffled wad. Next, he tore a strip off his cape and used it to bind the sack closed, using the surest knot he knew. Once that was done, he dropped it near the exit, where he would not forget to pick it up on his way out of the chamber.

The noble began searching the chamber again, this time more carefully. Several times, he used his broken harpoon to scratch away at crannies and niches that seemed suspiciously deep or straight, hoping to find a secret door or hidden passage lurking behind them. Twice he even resorted to peeling sheets of mica off the walls when the light played tricks on his eyes and he thought he had spied a torch flickering behind them.

Agis discovered nothing but more mica. Whatever had become of Tithian, it seemed that he was not here-and the noble doubted that the king had any intention of returning. He looked around the room one last time, then turned to leave.

That was when he heard a giant’s heavy breath puffing down the tunnel.

With his wyvern’s tail wrapped around the Oracle, Tithian continued to fly through the Gray, traveling in what he hoped was the direction from which the red flash had appeared a few moments earlier-or had it been longer? The king had no way of telling. All he could do was flap his leathery wings, keep his nose pointed straight ahead, and hope that he was flying on the correct course.

After driving away his brother and the other murder victims, Tithian had rested for a time-he did not know how long. His welts had slowly faded, and with them his pain. By that time, he had regained his strength and was ready to continue his search for the exit.

The task had been more difficult than he expected. At first, he had called on the Oracle’s power to visualize the opening to his satchel. The effort had failed miserably. Although he had created more than a dozen red circles resembling the exit, after passing through them he always found himself back in the Gray.

Next Tithian had tried magic, and the results had been even more devastating. Because there were no living plants in the Gray, he had turned to the Oracle for his power. But when he had summoned the energy into his body, its intensity had burned the flesh from his hand. From that, the king had deduced an important lesson: as a mindbender, he was experienced enough to channel the power of the lens through his body without injury. But as a sorcerer, he could not control the savage energies.

Next, Tithian had tried to use the Way to make a compass out of his bone-handled dagger. When he balanced the blade on his finger, the tip had always pointed slightly to the left. It had taken him only a short time to realize that by following it, he would do nothing but fly in circles.

The king had just decided to stop and try to think of something new when he had glimpsed a faint red flash. Casting aside his useless dagger, he had turned toward the light and flown as fast as he could, pulling the Oracle along with him. Tithian had seen no more red lights, flashes or otherwise, since.

Cold fingers of despair were just beginning to creep into the king’s heart when he spied a small point of darkness in the Gray ahead. He redoubled his efforts and flew toward it as fast as his wings would carry him. He did not even allow himself to blink. It was the first substantial form that he had seen since chasing his brother away, and the thought that it might disappear before he reached it terrified Tithian.

To his relief, it did not. As he approached, the dark point became a dot, then a circle, and finally he identified it as the back of a head-a disembodied head with a long topknot of hair.

“What are you doing here?” Tithian demanded.

The head slowly turned around, and the king saw by the broad cheekbones and yellowed teeth that it was Sacha. His gray eyes darting to the lens, Sacha said, “I see you’ve found the Oracle-though I don’t know what you think you’re going to do with it in here.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching the entrance to the tunnel?” the king bristled, resisting the impulse to leap too quickly to the question foremost in his mind-how to escape.

“I did what I was supposed to,” Sacha snarled. “That’s why I’m in here with you.”

“What do you mean?” Tithian asked.

“Somehow Agis freed himself and located the Oracle chamber,” the head explained. “When we saw him enter the compound, I came down to warn you. All I found was the satchel-with no sign of you or the lens. Agis showed up a little later and stuffed me in here.”

“Does he know where I am-or the lens?”

“No, he thinks you used magic or the Way to disappear,” replied Sacha.