Vance Moore - Odyssey

Laquatus nodded, sure that the enemies would become an even dozen before an official account of the event was set down. Perhaps they would be immortalized in a living mural on the palace walls.

"That brings us to you," Aboshan said with a pointed smile. "You have relationships with the queen's court. You might provide us invaluable service in proving her complicity." He swam back toward the throne, the ambassador following.

"I fear that my former acquaintances will not be forthcoming, sire," Laquatus said, careful to stay well away from the emperor's seat. "My banishment to the continent may have convinced them that 1 am no longer in your confidence or a position of power." A little of the bitterness at his exile leaked through despite the merman's best efforts to hide it.

"Easily remedied," Aboshan assured him. "We will give very public signs of our favor, concurring upon you suitable awards and titles."

"Then I fear those in the queen's court will question my motives," Laquatus replied, drifting in front of his sovereign with his head bent in humility.

"Tell them that your long sojourn on land has made you more amenable to the southern court," Aboshan said as he reclined in the stinging tentacles. "We are confident in your abilities at deception."

Laquatus could only humbly nod.

* * * * *

The great windbag, the ambassador thought, looking back on the interview. The emperor recited hours of conspiracy theory, searching for enemies everywhere. He called in secret informers who gave the most banal reports, which Aboshan tried to turn into damning indictments. Only the emperor's precarious hold on reality prevented him from unleashing pogroms.

The monarch acted at once to rebuild Laquatus's political stature, awarding him with a gold medallion and the appellation, Friend of the Emperor. The bauble was too heavy, and the friendship would last until Aboshan thought him conspiring with others or of no more use. Finally, the ambassador was able to reclaim his jack and pursue his true mission — locating Satas and the prize.

It was with some surprise that he learned the good captain was gone. He left for the coast before the ambassador even arrived at the capital. Laquatus, using his new status, found the entry logs for the day in question. The guard who admitted Satas to the palace vaguely remembered the little amphibian. He recalled directing the tresias to the treasure room. The ambassador called Turg to him from where the frog lurked and swam to the lower portions of the palace to find the sphere.

Laquatus stopped at the lowest entry way in shock. Instead of a valve or gate there was a soldier planted in front of a shimmering sphere. The guard had a humanoid torso, but instead of legs or a tail, the rest of his body was a long stalk. The lower portion of the column flared out and merged with an outcropping of the palace. The soldier swayed idly, his hands gripping a short spear. He saw the aristocrat and his jack and straightened, his lower body altering color as if drawing force from the structure surrounding him. Inside the sphere, or more properly hemisphere for it met the ground, was dry rock and a trapdoor.

’Greetings, Your Excellency,” the guard said, tilting his body down. ”How may I be of service?”

The ambassador still looked at the sight of dry land under the sea.

”Yes, it is something of a surprise,” the warrior said, ”but it was necessary for the workers from the continent.” His body bobbed as he looked at the merman.

”What workers?” Laquatus asked, crowding closer.

”Why the workers the Cabal sent in response to the emperor's order several days ago,” the guard said in puzzlement. ”The care of the treasure room needed specialized services that the caretaker could not provide. They became absolutely necessary when the previous holder died during the traitors' attack.”

”Drylanders, here?” Laquatus questioned, his tone alerting the guard to his displeasure.

”Do not worry,” the guard said. ”I keep close watch, and none of them can breathe water. The captain of the guard inspected them for signs of the queen's magic, and they all were clean. They are as trapped as surely as a meal in a shark's belly.”

”I would inspect the treasure rooms. What should I do?” the ambassador said as Turg tried to slip around to the guard's back. His master warned him off, knowing that those serving in the palace would be inspected for signs of tampering. The waxboard showed Satas's sigil. The amphibian had arrived and left within a half-hour, days before.

Laquatus chuckled at the quick exit. There was every chance that the captain never reported to the emperor or anyone except the caretaker. The merman made his mark and prepared to transform. Turg was already in the bubble and standing up, preparing to pull open the trapdoor. The guard returned his attention to the outside passage. At least Laquatus was spared the indignity of being observed as he grew legs.

The ambassador emptied his lungs of water as the frog opened the trapdoor. Stairs led down the bowed timber from ships' hulk The floor was covered in muck and sand, and the smell of rotting seaweed rose through the door. Then the merman saw some of the workers inside and included rotting flesh as a source of the stench. The servants were, after all, from the Cabal.

"Ambassador Laquatus," a voice hailed him. A woman separated herself from the crowd of living and dead workers and hurried over. The underground room extended for yards in every direction. Groups of zombies and black-clad Cabal servitors piled garbage into baskets and dug down to rock. More timber waited, and Laquatus realized that they were putting up shelves instead of the matrix of pigeonholes and sealed pillars that sea people usually employed.

"I remember you from your marvelous party. I see you also brought my playmate." With a sinking heart he recognized Fulla, her braids plastered with mud against her head. "I would apologize for the mess, but I did not make it. Besides, I remember the condition of your embassy when I left."

Why did it have to be the dementia caster? Any ordinary servant or mage could be manipulated by false memories, but a despairing Laquatus remembered her resistance to his spells.

”Have I offended you somehow?” he heard her ask and brought himself back to reality.

”Not at all, my dear,” he gushed, trying to match her enthusiasm. ”I was just thinking what chance brought you here,” he finished through gritted teeth.

”Well, I will be here for quite some time,” she laughed gaily. She waved to the muck and mire. ”1 and my staff are retained by your gracious emperor to catalog and repair the treasures. Wonders that are rescued, only to be buried here under your palace.”

A sucking roar developed as zombies pulled at a chest, uncovering an opening to levels below. Water and mud cascaded down.

”Your previous caretaker placed items randomly in a series of chambers, of which this is only one,” she explained as she walked to the hole, looking down into the water. Laquatus could feel a spell engaging, and the water slowly began to subside. More mounds of muck were revealed with a few gleaming pieces of metal. The debris glittered slightly in the light pumped from the palace above.

”One of your ministers was bright enough to realize that we needed air to work. He also discovered that some of the pieces were damaged by water,” Fulla said.

Zombies splashed into the lower chambers and began filling baskets the servants handed to them.

”He failed to realize that withdrawing the water would settle everything to the deeper rooms and bury them. To be honest, I do not approve of the former caregiver. There is an unholy lode of mud to be cleared away."

The ambassador nodded dumbly, accepting that a servant of the Cabal would be the best judge of unholy. He realized with a sinking liver that tracking down the orb might still be a formidable task.