Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 4 - Obsidian Oracle (7 page)

Agis came to a sign bearing the image of a sail furled over a yardarm. Like the other
taverns, this one appeared closed, but the noble heard chairs scraping against stone as
someone cleaned the floor. He knocked on the door, then stepped back to wait.

A moment later, an unshaven man with a round stomach and red nose peered out the
half-opened door. In one hand he held a broom, in the other a sword of sharpened bone.
“What?”

“I
was told to ask for Nymos,” Agis replied.

“So?”

“I have something for him,” the noble said, withdrawing a silver coin from his purse.

The innkeeper's face lit up, “Good,” he said, snatching the coin from Agis's hand. “I'll
put this toward his bill.”

With that, the man pulled the door open and stepped aside, then waved the noble toward a
ladder in the back of the inn. “I let him stay on the roof. Keeps the birds off.”

Agis climbed the stairs and stepped onto the inn's roof. It was a relatively flat surface
of baked clay, enclosed by a waist-high wall and littered with shattered broy mugs. In one
corner, the sunbleached bones of hundreds of dustgulls lay heaped around the blackened
scar of a small cooking fire, with a water jug and a few pieces of chipped crockery
sitting nearby. A short distance away, a canopy of untanned hide hung over a nest of gray
straw.

At the front wall stood a jozhal. The short, two-legged reptile had cocked his slender
head to one side, and he held a three-fingered hand cupped to his earslit as though
listening to something in the street below. He had an elongated snout full of needle-sharp
teeth, a serpentine neck topped by a jagged crest of hide, and a long skinny tail. In
contrast to his bony arms, he had huge, powerful legs, each ending in a three-clawed foot.
His eyes were covered with the milky film of blindness, and his free hand rested atop a
slender walking stick.

“The innkeeper said I'd find Nymos up here,” Agis said, walking to the reptile's side.

The jozhal jumped as if someone had shouted into his ear, bringing his walking stick
around to defend himself. Agis blocked the swing, then grabbed the cane to prevent the
creature from making another attack. As the noble did so, he glimpsed the reptile slipping
a small, spiral-shaped shell into a skin pouch on his belly.

The jozhal disengaged his walking stick from Agis's grasp. “I'm Nymos,” he grumbled. “What
do you want, Tyrian?”

The noble drew a second silver coin from his purse and placed it in Nymos's small hand.
“Marda said you could use this,” he said, guessing the jozhal had identified him by his
accent.
“I'm
looking for a smuggler with a fast ship who can follow the fleet that left last night.”

Nymos rubbed the coin between the three fingers of his hand. “It'll cost you more than a
silver.”

“I'll give you another when I find a captain I like,” Agis countered, wondering how the
blind reptile could tell that he held silver instead of gold or lead.

Nymos slipped the coin into his stomach pouch. “I'm more interested in magic,” he said.
“You wouldn't have anything enchanted, would you?” <

“I have nothing like that,” Agis replied. “I'm no sorcerer.”

The jozhal sniffed Agis's satchel and belt purse, then shook his head in disgust. “Like
trying to squeeze water from a stone,” he snorted.
“I'd
expect someone of your reputation to have an enchanted dagger or something.”

“My reputation?”

“Of course,” Nymos said. “Even in Balic, the bards sing of the noble who fought to free
the slaves of Tyr-Agis of Asticles.”

The noble's jaw fell slack in surprise. “What makes you think that's me?”

The jozhal held out his bony hand. “Answers cost.”

Scowling, Agis gave him another coin.

“The streets are full of templars looking for the Tyrian who left his giant in Lord
Balba's field,” said the jozhal.

“So I've heard, but that isn't the answer I paid for.”

“Your giant is less discreet with names than he ought to be,” replied Nymos. “Especially
considering who you are.”

“I'm Tyrian, but that doesn't mean I'm
that
one,” he said. “There must be a hundred men from Tyr in this dry. Any of them could be
Agis of Asticles.”

“True,” replied the jozhal. “But I suspect Agis is the only one with reason to follow
Tithian.” At the mention of the king's name, Nymos extended his hand for another coin.

“For one who charges so much, you certainly live in squalor,” observed Agis, handing over
another silver.

“My information is not always of such value. Besides, I have a certain fondness for broy.”
Nymos slipped the coin into his pouch, then said, “I overheard the high templar of the
Balkan fleet, Navarch Saanakal, escorting a Tyrian onto his flagship. He addressed the man
as King Tithian.”

“You'll have to do better for that last coin. I knew Tithian was aboard the fleet before I
came here,” said Agis. “Did the king leave Balic so fast because he knew I was here?”

“You're asking me to speculate,” Nymos said, raising his hand again. “That costs-”

“You haven't earned my last silver yet,” Agis interrupted.

Nymos sighed. “I doubt he knew you were here,” he said. “The fleet left dock long before
you reached the harbor-perhaps even before you entered the city.”

“That's welcome news,” Agis said. “Now, what of the ship I need to hire?”

In reply, Nymos rubbed his mouth. “With what I've paid you, you can buy your own broy,”
Agis snapped.

The jozhal repeated the gesture twice more, both times slowly and deliberately.

“I'm not among those who wear the veil,” the noble said, finally recognizing the signal
for what it was. “But I can tell you that in Tyr, the Veiled Alliance would not have
charged three silvers for its help.”

“We are not in Tyr,” said Nymos. He sat down in the corner, using his cane to motion Agis
to do the same. “But we hope someday to liberate Balic as you and Tithian did your
city-which is why I've lived on this rooftop for the last decade. Nothing leaves or enters
this port unless I hear about it.”

“So you have proven,” Agis said, still indignant about the fee Nymos had demanded of him.
“Does that mean you'll guide me to a reliable captain?”

“Yes, if you tell me what's going on here,” Nymos said. “Andropinis is not the type to
lend his fleet, especially to the king of the Free City.”

Agis shrugged. “I don't know. All I can tell you is this: Tithian has more in common with
Andropinis than with the hero legends make him out to be. The reason I'm following him is
that he sent a tribe of slavers to attack a small village-one of Tyr's allies.”

“Because I am short and blind, do not mistake me for a fool!” Nymos hissed. “Even in
Balic, we know of Tithian's deeds. He freed the slaves. He made a public marketplace of
the gladiatorial stadium. He gave the king's fields to the poor. He-”

“Yes, he did all those things,” interrupted Agis. “But in Tyr, the king's power is not
final. The Council of Advisors forced him to issue every one of those edicts. Rest assured
that if the choice were his, Tyr would be a tyrant's plaything.”

Nymos was quiet for a long time. Finally, he asked, “Why should I believe you?”

“Because if you know of Tithian's reputation, you must also know mine. I wouldn't say
these things unless they were true.” When this didn't seem to convince Nymos, he added,
“From what I've said, you must realize that we can't both be honest. To choose between us,
ask yourself who's sailing with Andropinis's fleet”

“Maybe he has a good reason for his actions,” the jozhal suggested, still reluctant to
accept that the legendary king of Tyr was just as corrupt as any other ruler.

“You know that can't be. King Andropinis would not help him if his cause were a worthy
one,” said Agis. “Besides, there's no justification for taking slaves. By breaking Tyr's
most sacred law, Tithian has become a fugitive from his own realm.”

“Not a fugitive,” Nymos said. “If your king were fleeing Tyr's justice, he would have
stayed in Balic, under our king's protection. No, Tithian wants something with that
fleet-and whatever it is, Andropinis wants him to have it.”

Agis frowned. “What could it be?”

Nymos shrugged. “I don't know,” he said. “But the giants are fighting among themselves. By
sending out his fleet, Andropinis has risked drawing Balic into the war. Whatever Tithian
is after, it must be something of great importance.”

Agis rose to his feet. “Which is the all the more reason I must hurry.”

Nymos also stood. “This concerns Balic as much as it does Tyr. I'm coming with you.”

“That isn't necessary.”

“Perhaps not,” replied the jozhal. “But in ten years, this is the first good excuse I've
had to get off this roof. You have no choice in the matter.”

“The trip will be too dangerous,” Agis objected.

“Don't assume that I can't take care of myself,” hissed Nymos. “Nothing makes me angrier.”

Agis sighed. “Very well. I wouldn't want to upset you.”

“Then we have a bargain?”

“Yes,” the noble said. “But that means we're partners. I'm not paying you another silver.”

“That's just as well,” said Nymos, taking the noble's arm. “You'll need what's left to
hire the smuggler. There's only one ship that can follow where the fleet's going, and its
captain drives a hard bargain.”

“Then you know Tithian's destination?” Agis inquired.

“Of course, I heard him tell it to Navarch Saana-kal,” the reptile replied. “It's Lybdos,
the Forbidden Isle.”

As they approached the ladder, Agis heard a woman speaking in the tavern below. “The
Tynan, where is he?” It was the voice of the sour-faced templar who had accosted him on
the quay.

“Tynan?” came the innkeeper's reply. “There's no Tyrian here. As you can see, we're
closed.”

“Don't lie,” growled Salust's coarse voice. “Marda sent him to see your blind pet.”

“Pet!” hissed Nymos, pulling Agis away from the opening. “I'll show them who's a pet!”

The reptile turned his hand toward the rooftop, preparing to cast a spell. The air beneath
his palm began to quiver, then a surge of energy, barely visible to the naked eye, rose
into his hand. Although it appeared Nymos was drawing his magic from the ground beneath
the building, Agis knew that was not the case. Most sorcerers could tap Athas's life-force
only through plant life. The power for the reptile's magic came not from the land, but
from the ratany hedge along the edge of the bay. The ground, and the building which sat
upon it, were only the medium through which the energy passed.

From the room below, Agis heard the sound of an open hand striking the innkeeper's face.
“Where hive you hidden the Tyrian?” demanded the templar.

“The roof,” replied the innkeeper. “Nymos sleeps up there.”

Nymos continued to draw the energy for his spell. Agis was surprised, for if the reptile
took too much power, the ratany would wither and die. The ground holding the roots of the
plants would become sterile, staying barren until the blood and sweat of hundreds of
slaves restored the soil. Despite the length of time the jozhal spent drawing his power,
however, Agis knew he would not destroy the hedge. The Veiled Alliance was dedicated to
preventing such desecrations, and no member of the group would do such a thing lightly.

The top of the ladder jiggled
as
someone began to ascend. Nymos closed his hand, cutting the flow of magical energy into
his body. He grabbed a pinch of silt and spit on it, then daubed the mixture onto the
corner of the hole. At the same time, he uttered his incantation. The dab expanded into a
sheet of orange clay and sealed the opening, drawing a muffled cry of surprise from below.

“That should hold them,” said Nymos, motioning for Agis to follow him.

The sorcerer led him to the other side of the roof, where a bone ring had been set into
the wall, with one end of a coiled rope tied into it. As Nymos threw the cord over the
side, a series of dull thumps sounded from the clay sheet blocking the opening to the roof.

“Always knew I'd have to leave in a hurry,” the jozhal said, tucking his cane under his
arm. “We don't have much time before they hack through my stopper.”

Agis grabbed Nymos's arm and did not let him climb onto the rope. “One moment,” he
whispered, peering into the cramped lane below.

The sorcerer's rope hardly seemed necessary, for the alley was half-clogged by drifts of
silt that would serve to cushion any fall. A single, hard-packed path ran down the street,
winding its way past dust heaps, rubbish piles, and the few back entrances that determined
shopkeepers kept clear. In one direction, the trail led deeper into the harbor district, a
maze of lanes similar to the one below.

The alley ran about fifty yards in the other direction before opening onto the harborside
street, where the hulking figure of a half-giant blocked the exit. The brute towered
almost as high as the roofs surrounding him, with a helmet of albino kank shell covering
his head. For armor he wore a corselet of bleached leather, leaving his loins concealed by
nothing more than a dingy gray skirt. He carried only one weapon, a bone club spiked with
obsidian shards.

“Which way are we going?” Agis asked.

The sorcerer hesitated before answering.
“I'm
not really sure,” he said. “It's been years since I've been off this roof.”

“Then how are we going to find our ship?” Agis demanded, watching the half-giant lumber
down the alley.

“I've heard that it's docked in front of the Red Mekillot.”

“Which is where?”

“Just down the street from the Blue Cloud, which is around the corner from the Gray King,
which is two blocks past the-”

“Just go-but not toward the harborside street,” Agis said, releasing the jozhal's arm.
“There's a guard coming from there.”

Nymos nodded, then climbed onto the rope. Agis hazarded a glance back toward the center of
the roof. The clay stopper remained in place, but the sound of the templars hacking at it
had grown less muffled. He summoned the spiritual strength to use the Way. As before on
the quay, the energy came to him slowly, and the noble began to worry that his pursuers
would dear the plug before he was ready to attack.