A Triumph of Souls (39 page)

Stunned, Simna lay on the ground, gaping up at his enraged friend. From the first moment of their relationship there had been
disagreements, debates, and disputations. But always words, words. Never blows. The only violence had been verbal. Clenching
his teeth, he sprang to his feet, the bloodied sword dangling from his right hand. In an instant he was standing with head
tilted slightly back, chest-to-chest with his companion, his unwavering gaze burning into that of the herdsman. Seeing this,
Ahlitah growled and prepared to spring forward, but Hunkapa Aub reached down to put a massive hand on the big cat’s rippling
shoulder and restrain him.

The confrontation lasted only a moment, but to the tense pair of onlookers, one feline and the other only part human, it seemed
the longest moment imaginable. Then Simna ibn Sind stepped back and, with slow deliberation,
returned his reddened blade back to the scabbard on his back.

“You’re a brave man, Etjole Ehomba. Brave and bold and maybe, just maybe, even wise. I’ve seen you do remarkable, astonishing
things. But if you think that makes me afraid of you, you’re wrong. Simna ibn Sind fears nothing living. Not soldiers, not
giants, not even mystic and powerful sorcerers. And certainly not cattle farmers.” Reaching up, he touched the place on his
cheek where the herdsman’s blow had landed. There would be a bruise there.

“I consider myself a fair and reasonable man, bruther. You don’t want me to stand up for the evicted and downtrodden? Fine!
I hereby relegate all my altruistic impulses to the bottom of my priorities for the duration of our partnership. In return,
you’ll keep your hands to yourself. I swear, I might allow one such blow to pass without redress, but I’ll never let two.”

Ehomba’s voice had returned to normal. He looked away. “There is more at stake here, friend Simna, than your precious pride.
Remember that I have a family I have not seen in far, far too long anxiously awaiting my return, and a home to go back to.
You are burdened by no such responsibilities. You carry your home with you.”

“Hoy, and after seeing these past many months how heavily such duties weigh on you, long bruther, I know for a certainty that
it was I who made the right choice in deciding how best to contrive a journey through life. Homes!” His tone grew bitter and
contemptuous. “They burn down or are pillaged, or storms and Earth-shakings destroy what a man takes years to build. Children
die young, and wives grow bored and find excitement in unfaithfulness.”
He slapped himself on the chest. “I am a free man, Etjole! The whole world is my home, and everyone I choose to embrace is
my family.”

Ehomba’s gaze was inclined westward, down the canyon that led to a no-longer-so-distant sea men called Aurreal. It stayed
focused in that direction—as well as on other things. “The world may be your house, Simna. It is not your home. As for family,
I wish you a real one someday.” With a casual wave of one hand as he sheathed the apparently undamaged sky-metal sword with
the other, he beckoned for his companions to follow. Hunkapa Aub fell into step on his right while the black litah ranged
farther afield off to his left.

Simna dropped into his usual place close by the herdsman’s side. He was smiling once again, his mercurial nature having returned
to the fore, the disagreeable incident of moments ago seemingly completely forgotten.

“Tell me, bruther: What would you have done if the Berserker had let loose of his hammer as soon as it started to fly away
with him?”

Ehomba smiled reflectively. It took a little longer than usual for the slight upward curve of his mouth to manifest itself,
but he smiled. “Why then, my friend, we would have had to slay him before he could recover from his fall. Beyond that I did
not have time to think. What the wise men and women of the Naumkib have given me does not allow me to perform more than one
miracle at a time.”

Simna scratched at the slightly sore spot on his face where Ehomba had struck him. “For a man who spends his days shooing
along sheep and cows, you pack a virtuous punch.”

“It is harder to knock down a steer than a man.”
Ehomba declaimed this without so much as a smile. His attention remained concentrated on the path ahead.

The swordsman chuckled. “I only had a quick glimpse of his face before the Berserker sailed off into the sky. I wish I could
be there when he finally comes down!”

Ehomba’s tone was preoccupied, his gaze set. He strode rhythmically, easily, over the stony, pebble-strewn ground.
Not far now
, he told himself. It could not be much farther now. A part of him was aware that Simna had spoken, and was expecting a reply.

“Who said anything about him coming down?”

T
he view from the sun-swept ridge was breathtaking. Below, between the mountains and the sea, a lush plain dotted with small
clumps of forest and the occasional gently rising hill ran from north to south as far as the eye could see. Homes and farms
filled the land in between, forming neat patterns. Fronting a broad, sand-fringed bay was a denser concentration of streets
and structures, of apartment blocks and businesses, warehouses and amphitheaters, schools and parks. Like the mandibles of
a beetle, coral-stone breakwaters enclosed the outer bay, creating shelter and a safe harbor for dozens of incoming and outgoing
ships. Their sails spotted the water like the gulls that shadowed them.

Etjole Ehomba stood with one foot resting on a rock, leaning forward, his right arm resting on his thigh. From the semitropical
plain and sea below, a warm, slightly moistened breeze rose upward into his face, making him blink and ruffling his braids.
There were times these past many months, more times than he cared to remember, when he doubted whether he would ever stand
in such a
spot, inhaling such a view. Yet there it was, spread out below him, benignly welcoming his arrival.

Ehl-Larimar.

A voice, high-spirited and characteristically confident beyond reason, sounded next to him. “Hoy, long bruther—there it is.”
As the swordsman contemplated the breathtaking panorama, a flock of opalescent macaws flew past below them, cawing a raucous
welcome, their wings glistening in the subdued sunlight as if coated with powdered gems. “Goyvank knows until now I was never
really sure it existed.”

“Hunkapa like.” The largest member of their party grunted approvingly. “Pretty place.”

“Too many people.” When Ehomba glanced warningly at the big cat, Ahlitah growled irritably. “I know, I know: I can’t eat anyone.
At least not until after we’ve recovered this waylaid female.”

“We are conspicuous,” the herdsman reminded them unnecessarily, thinking out loud, “but this is another large and cosmopolitan
city. A seaport as well. With luck our presence will go unremarked upon by the authorities until we have accomplished what
we came for. Time is therefore most important.”

“Hoy, since when wasn’t it?” Simna commented dryly. “Myself, I’d like to take the time to linger and sample the delights a
grand city like this surely has on offer, but after we’ve taken the treasure—and the lady, of course—I know how vital it’ll
be for us to depart posthaste.” He winked at his lanky companion. “It was clever of you, bruther, to engage two such big and
strong associates as the carpet and the cat. Either of them can haul more gold and jewels than the two of us put together.”

“I am certain they have that capability.” Ehomba’s reply was devoid of sarcasm.

“And after we’ve made our escape, we’ll head back through these same mountains.” The swordsman was well satisfied with his
imagined plan of action. “Outraged as they’ll be, the authorities might pursue us for a while, if they manage to pick up our
trail, but I’ve yet to meet the soldier who’d challenge all the country we’ve recently traversed, even on pain of lashing.”
He grinned at the herdsman. “Besides, they’ll have no sorcerer along to help them deal with hypnotic, swallowing salts and
the eager denizens of places like Skawpane.”

Ehomba started down the mountain. The last mountain, he knew. “First there are questions we must ask of the natives. We need
to find out where this Hymneth makes his home, what sort of defenses he keeps close around him. We need to see if anyone knows
of the Visioness and where she is being held.”

“And the treasure,” Simna reminded him enthusiastically. “Don’t forget to ask about the treasure.”

Ehl-Larimar was as attractive within as it had been from a distance, with luxuriant, carefully tended parks, clean streets,
and a healthy and attractive populace. Yet beneath the overt prosperity and occasional opulence there was an eerie sense of
ill-being, as if everyone, rich and poor alike, were suffering from some nonfatal but persistent malady.

As Ehomba had hoped, while their presence was remarked upon, it caused no unusual stir among the locals. Once they succeeded
in wending their way down to the harborfront, the travelers found themselves swept up in the usual swirl of commerce and industry,
just another
clutch of exotics in a sea of hardworking foreigners and industrious visitors. Other than the occasional curious glance, no
one paid them the least heed.

Not only did the harborfront provide the anonymity Ehomba sought, it was also among the best places in any large city to obtain
information. But whenever they mentioned Hymneth the Possessed, initially cordial locals shied away in quiet terror, and even
wayfarers from distant lands found hasty excuses to take themselves elsewhere.

Eventually and by means of persistence (and the quiet, unspoken threat posed by Hunkapa Aub and Ahlitah’s presence), they
learned the location of their quarry’s fortress home, as well as the knowledge that it was rumored he kept within its walls
a woman of surpassing beauty who hailed from a far land. They now knew where they had to go. It was, as Ehomba put it in his
pragmatically understated fashion, now simply a matter of going there.

They found temporary lodging in a waterfront hostel that catered to visitors from the far reaches of the Aurreal, and there
they slept and rested all that night and through the following day, until their second night in Ehl-Larimar brought them the
darkness they sought.

High, thin clouds obscured much of the light reflected by a quarter moon. The temperate climate of the coast allowed them
to move quickly and effortlessly through the city. Once away from the harbor, urban activity began to decline. Those citizens
who happened to chance upon the resolute travelers needed only to catch a glimpse of the mass of Hunkapa Aub, or the glowing
yellow eyes of the black
litah, to hurry on their way without pausing to ask questions.

Toward the high, somber castle they climbed: not by the winding, stone-paved road that provided access to conventional visitors,
but up a hunters’ trail that ascended from the city toward a broken peak lying between fortress and sea. This time Ehomba
let the big cat lead the way, its sharper-than-human senses alert for signs of patrolling soldiers or armed citizens. Once,
Ahlitah left the path between the brush and trees to pounce. His attention had been momentary diverted by an unlucky rabbit.
Having never encountered at any time in its short life on the city’s outskirts a predator of the size and aspect of the litah,
it was too paralyzed with fear to scream. Swallowing his snack in two bites, the unapologetic big cat resumed the ascent.

Changing direction before the modest summit was reached, they turned slightly south and east to follow the ridgeline until
they found themselves standing in the brush that grew thickly above and behind the castle. Looking down, it was easy to see
that its master was the ruler of a rich and prosperous land. Turrets and battlements had been designed with an eye toward
appearance as well as efficacy. Only the finest building stone had been used in the construction of the fortress. From within
the keep as well as along the walls, flickering lights testified to the presence of oil lamps and torches.

They waited there, crouched down among the concealing chaparral, grateful for the pleasant, balmy night. Owls hooted from
within the dark shadows of tall trees, to be answered by nocturnal dragonets whose occasional flights provided a diversion
for the tarrying travelers. Moonlight
shining through their wings, they preyed on the bats that darted and dove above the treetops in search of moths and other
insects, homing in on their victims with shrill, high-pitched squeaks. Between their oversized eyes and ears and long snouts
lined with hundreds of thin, sharply pointed teeth, there was not much room left for the rest of their efficient but homely
reptilian faces.

The moon had passed its zenith and was waning toward morning when Ehomba shifted from the one-legged herdsman’s stance in
which he had been resting. “It is time,” he declared simply. Taking the point from the black litah, he led the little company
toward the castle.

Their initial impressions of its superior design and solid fortifications were confirmed by close inspection as they sidled
in single file along its back wall. Nowhere could they find a loose stone to dig out, or a hole through which to squeeze.
High above, serene sentries paced their posts, never thinking to look straight down. Why should they? Who would dare to try
to sneak uninvited into the fortress of Hymneth the Possessed, and, more to the point, who would want to?

It was Simna ibn Sind, more familiar with castles and imposing stone structures than his tall friend, who suggested they try
the storm drain. Large enough to allow all of them passage, even Hunkapa, it penetrated the foot of the castle wall near its
western edge. An iron grating blocked ultimate ingress, but though well blacksmithed, it had not been designed with an intruder
the size of Hunkapa Aub in mind.

Lying sideways in the opening and bracing his feet against the interior wall, their shaggy companion gripped one of the bars
of the grate in both huge hands and pulled,
intending to remove the bars one at a time. Instead, there was a muted grinding noise as the entire grate came away in his
fingers. Hasty inspection revealed that, as might be expected of iron that had spent much time standing in water, the footings
of the bottom bars were rusty. Not rusted through, but no longer possessed of their original strength, either. That was important,
because it had allowed Hunkapa Aub to remove the grate quietly as well as quickly.