Sands of the Soul (14 page)

“It’s your life we’re talking about!” she exclaimed. “I’ve got a reason to be confused.”

“I haven’t forgotten what is at stake,” Fannah said softly.

“I’m sorry,” Tazi apologized quickly, hating to see Fannah upset. “Of course you, out of all of us, know how important this is.”

“If the Lurker’s plan is sound, then follow it. I will be all right here and I might even slow you down. If he is wrong, however—” she paused—”then come back. We will find another way.”

“I will find you no matter where you are,” Tazi promised.

“I’m counting on it,” Fannah replied, staring at Tazi with her ice-white eyes.

Tazi squeezed the blind woman’s hand briefly and smiled. She released her grip, and a Child of Ibrandul escorted Fannah off in the same direction that the wounded novice was taken.

“We’ll be back soon,” Tazi called after Fannah. Then she added in a whisper, “You can count on it.”

Steorf and the Lurker walked over to where she stood watching Fannah’s retreating form.

“Shall we?” the Lurker said, making a slow gesture in a different direction.

Steorf was clearly still angry at the turn of events, but Tazi could see he was holding his tongue—at least for the moment.

“Please,” Tazi replied, nodding in agreement.

The Lurker moved in front of them and led the two down a side passage.

“I didn’t even see this hall before,” Tazi quietly told Steorf.

He leaned toward her slightly and replied, “They’ve rather ingeniously used the rockwork to their advantage. Unless you knew where the opening was or you were standing at just the right angle, the entrance would look like just more shadowed rock.”

The senior priest took them around a turn and down a short tunnel that led to a smaller antechamber. In the center of the room was a well-built oak table that would comfortably seat twenty, worn to a deep patina in many areas. The room was lit by thick candles and a few, subtle glow spells. All along the walls were shelves and shelves of books and scrolls. Tazi saw various maps hanging along some of the few free spaces and wondered if they were for the subterranean tunnels that Fannah had told them littered Calimport Muzad. Before she could get a closer look, seven of the Children of Ibrandul came in, and one set about rolling up all the open scrolls and putting them away.

“Friendly folk,” Steorf whispered to Tazi.

“It’s not as though we’ve given them much to trust,” she replied.

Her eye was caught by a small tapestry that the Children of Ibrandul had left in place.

Within the intricate pattern, Tazi was able to see that some kind of a maze was depicted. She shook her head to herself as she tried to trace the way out of the maze.

I feel just as twisted and lost, she thought. Not sure who to trust in this room and not sure who to doubt.

“Everyone be seated,” the Lurker said.

He took the chair at the head of the table. Tazi and Steorf sat to his right, and the other Children of Ibrandul sat in various positions around them.

“It is obvious,” the priest began without preamble, “that this necromancer must be stopped. You two have mentioned that he is responsible for several deaths.”

“Yes,” Tazi added. “He killed one friend of mine and at least a few other innocents, and he means to kill Fannah as well.”

She directed the last comment to everyone at the table, hoping they would understand the severity of the situation.

“For what purpose, however, you are not sure. Is that true? ” one of the Children of Ibrandul asked.

“This man is evil. It’s that simple,” Steorf replied. “Whatever his purpose is, you can assume it will be monstrous, because it will be a reflection of him.”

“A person’s actions do reflect his spirit,” one of the novices agreed, giving Steorf a long glance.

“It would still be advantageous to know the scope of his plans,” the Lurker added.

He swept a stern look at the Children of Ibrandul, obviously not intending to tolerate their input.

“Knowing his intention would give us a clue as to where he is now or, perhaps, where he will be at some later point,” Tazi added.

“I have a feeling that time is running out for you,” the Lurker intoned.

“I think you’re right,” Tazi agreed. “Do you have any idea where he might be and how this connects to Ibrandul? Any idea at all?”

“I cannot even fathom a guess. Perhaps he has hidden himself in the tunnels here. After all, the Skulking God protects those in the lower depths, so he might be depend-

ing on that protection. It is impossible for me to say anything with much certainty.”

“Then we’re right back where we started,” Tazi complained.

“We should get Fannah,” Steorf interjected, “and try another avenue.”

“You are quick to act,” the Mysterious Lurker remarked. “Just because we don’t know where Ciredor is now doesn’t mean there isn’t a way to discover his location.”

“Is your power strong enough to find him here?” Tazi asked.

“No, child,” he apologized, “but I know where you should go to seek out your answers.”

“Where would that be?” Steorf asked.

“You will need strong, magical means to divine his plans and his lair. The only chance I believe you will have to find this man in time is if you go to the Dark Bazaar.”

Tazi saw Steorf stiffen when the Lurker mentioned “strong, magical means.” She knew he was not going to tolerate many more comments like those or the subtle jibes and looks that the other Children of Ibrandul were casting at him. She didn’t think the Lurker was intentionally insulting him, but Tazi was certain that was how Steorf perceived the conversation, and she knew his pride was severely wounded.

“What is the Dark Bazaar?” she asked the priest. ,

“Didn’t your Calishite companion tell you about it?” the Lurker inquired solicitously.

“There’s been too much to see,” Tazi explained, “and too little time since we arrived, I’m afraid, to learn all the secrets of Calimport.”

The Lurker directed a severe look around the room and settled back in his seat.

He must not abide interruptions very well, Tazi thought, though he has tolerated our errors in judgment and etiquette.

“No one knows how the Dark Bazaars originated,” the Lurker began with a slight smile, “but they have existed for many years.”

“Is this some kind of night market?” Tazi asked. “In Selgaunt, there is always commerce going on to some degree, no matter the hour. Considering the size of Calimport, I would expect the same.”

She had already forgotten her observation regarding the priest’s tolerance of interruptions, but he seemed unperturbed by her question.

“While there are more and more night markets these days that take up business in the same locations as the permanent day bazaars, this is something different.”

Steorf crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against his chair. Tazi knew the position well. This was Valways the way he sat when he felt someone was spinning a story for him. He had struck the pose with her on more than one occasion over the years when her accounts of personal derring-do reached mythical proportions. She wished he wasn’t so opposed to their dealing with the cultists. While under their roof, she felt the need to overcompensate for his rudeness.

“Go on,” she urged, recognizing that the Lurker was passing along vital information, not some tavern tale.

“The Dark Bazaar is not populated by the common people. There are beings in attendance from not only all of Faerun, but from other planes as well. I’ve been told that even some elementals can be found there.”

“You’ve been told? Then you yourself have never been there,” Steorf observed.

“No, I have not. The way to the Dark Bazaar is a difficult one and I have never had the need to attempt it.”

“How do you know I will be able to find what I need there?” Tazi asked.

“I don’t know for certain, but I do believe it is your best chance. The few words ever recorded about the bazaar speak of fantastic items—like dream vapor bottles or elven kiira—up for barter, but the most common item traded there is knowledge.”

“Barter?” asked Tazi.

“Yes,” the Lurker answered. “Barter is the only way to exchange items or secrets. As far as I know, there is really only one rule to the bazaar: One can only trade equal value for equal value. You can only ask or trade for one thing. The advantage, so they say, is that information gained there is always reliable.”

“What happens after the transaction is concluded?” Steorf questioned.

“As I am led to believe,” the priest replied carefully, “you are then escorted from the bazaar.” “By who?” Tazi asked.

“Again,” the Lurker adjusted his robes almost nervously, “I do not know for certain. Most believe, however, that the bazaar is managed by the Temple of Old Night.”

“The Temple of Old Night?” Tazi inquired.

“It belongs to Shar,” Steorf answered.

“That is correct,” the Lurker said with a small note of surprise in his voice. “You know of the Temple of Old Night?”

“I know some,” Steorf answered mysteriously.

Tazi watched the two men closely. She had also been surprised that Steorf was familiar with the Temple of Old Night, but her admiration of his knowledge was quickly turning to exasperation. She could see that he wanted to play games of bravado with the Lurker and this was not the time. It looked, like the Lurker was up for the challenge.

“Does it matter who runs the bazaar?” Tazi asked, interrupting their staring match.

“It’s always wise to know what you’re walking into,” Steorf answered, keeping his eyes fixed on the Lurker.

“As much as you can, at any rate,” the priest added.

The Children of Ibrandul remained silent, and Tazi saw that several kept their eyes lowered.

“If this is the best chance we have,” Tazi decided, “then it is the one we have to take.”

“I can not think of a better one,” the Lurker agreed. “I have a vested interest in this as well. I and the other Children of

Ibrandul do not want our faith sullied by any dark rite.”

“How do we get there?” Tazi inquired, ready to get on the move.

“The way is rather perilous, and only the most skillful find the entrance,” the Lurker explained. “Because we are as concerned about stopping Ciredor as you are, I am going to have three of the Children of Ibrandul accompany you through the tunnels. They can take you to where the last Dark Bazaar was held and follow the signs to where the new one will most likely be.”

Upon hearing those words, the novices looked around at each other.

^You could give us directions,” Steorf told him. “If the way is truly so treacherous, we wouldn’t want any of your ‘Children’ to come to harm.”

Tazi kicked him under the table, not at all pleased with what sounded at best like an insult and at worst, a thinly veiled threat.

“It will save much more time to show you the path rather than try to explain it to you,” the Lurker replied.

Secretly, Tazi was grateful he had not outwardly taken any offense at Steorf’s words.

“That would be best,” Tazi agreed, before Steorf could add anything else. “I think the sands are running out for us.”

The Lurker rose from his chair and smoothed his robes. He motioned to one of the Children of Ibrandul to approach him. When the novice reached his side, the senior priest spoke softly in the Child’s ear. The novice nodded vigorously several times before the priest finished. Steorf looked at Tazi during the exchange, concern plain in his expression.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” she whispered in reply to his unasked question.

“There are always choices,” he whispered back. “Sometimes only wrong ones, though.”

Tazi chewed her lip thoughtfully.

“One of the Children of Ibrandul will take you to a small

Sands of the Soul

chamber where you can prepare for the excursion,” the Lurker explained. “You will find food and water, and an assortment of weapons and supplies.”

“Weapons?” Steorf asked, with one eyebrow raised.

“Ibrandul helps those who are in need, but it never hurts to be ready for anything,” the priest added.

With that, the Mysterious Lurker retired to a chamber beyond their counsel room. The glow spells glinted off the silver circles covering his outer robe, and Tazi was once again reminded of how much they looked like scales.

Without further conversation, one of the Children of Ibrandul motioned for them to follow him. He led them back through the main tunnel to another side room. Once inside, Tazi and Steorf saw that it was just as the Lurker had said. The room held several chairs, a workbench, a smaller table laid with a minor feast, and a wall covered with an assortment of weapons. Tazi walked over to the wall and removed a small scimitar with an ornate handle. She admired the weight and balance of the sword.

“I will leave you for a brief while,” the Child of Ibrandul informed them, “before returning with two others for the undertaking.”

Tazi thanked him, and he left, shutting the door behind him.

“What are you thinking?” Steorf hissed at her the moment the door shut.

Tazi placed a finger to her closed lips and made a circling gesture with her other hand to indicate the entire room. Steorf moved over to stand next to her. When he spoke again, he pitched his voice more softly though Tazi could see he was still angry.

“This room seems to be safe,” he told her.

“I thought,” she whispered back, “that Asraf said differing types of magic didn’t work in the temple.”

“I think he meant that they didn’t work against each other,” Steorf explained. “Since the Lurker took us to that inner

chamber, I’ve been testing the waters, so to speak.”

“What did you learn?” she inquired.

“As long as I’m not too intrusive, I do have limited use of spells. I’ve been able to detect magical artifacts, for instance, and devices for eavesdropping. That council room had several of both.”

“Well?” Tazi asked and looked at him expectantly.

“We should be free to talk,” he reassured her. Without hesitation, he added testily, “What are you thinking?”