Mortals & Deities (5 page)

Breaking eye contact, Larith stood and returned to lean against the rail. “Forgive the rants of an old man. I have spent much of my life here in Bin’Satsu. Its libraries are extensive and I have read much of the past.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Arderi walked across the patio, braving a look over its edge. Jagged rocks fell away a hundred paces or more, disappearing into the foggy clouds below. His stomach lurched, and he retreated. Standing just behind Larith, Arderi noted two long protrusions that ran parallel to each other down the man’s back, each over a hand long.

Does Larith wear something strapped to his shoulders under his robe?

Opening his mouth to inquire as to what they were, Arderi jumped as they twitched from side to side. The man spun to face him, and Arderi cringed.

Larith stared at him, a questioning look upon his face, before speaking. “There is much you need to know, and precious little time for you to know it. This Plane that you live upon is only a shell of the Plane that once was. A broken and mutilated shell.” He motioned for Arderi to follow him back into the Citadel. “For several millennia, this Plane has been asleep.” Arderi opened his mouth to comment, then kept silent as Larith held up a hand. “Let me correct that and say the
Essence
has been asleep.” Again, Arderi made to ask a question, though this time Larith spoke over him. “The Essence that you know now—the slow, methodical force that your Shapers use to perform their wonders—is a shadow of what once was. A shadow that is beginning to brighten. Soon it will burn with an intensity that will radiate out to cover all there is. It will call to a select few. All those who answer this call will have the ability to Meld the Essence as never before. They will wield true power and be able to do unbelievable things.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Arderi could not keep the awe from his voice.

“No!” Larith reached out and gripped Arderi’s arm in a vice-like hold. A haunting look filled his eyes, and Arderi no longer wanted to be near this man. “The Essence is
corrupt
! It twists and torments those who use it. It begs to be used more. Calls out to those who hear its cry!” Placing his free hand on Larith’s wrist, Arderi tried to remove the man’s hand when his grip became painful. The man took no notice. “And they
will
answer that call. They always do! Once answered, true power will be in their grasp. True corruption unleashed!”

Arderi pulled at Larith’s fingers, sure that the man would snap his arm any moment. “Master Rine!”

The shout snapped the man from his rant and he jerked his hand away, taking a step back as he did. “I—I am sorry. Please, forgive me, Brother.” However, his fevered look did not leave his eyes. If anything, he took on a more desperate stare. “Let me show you to your room. Saven should be finished eating by now and I must consult with him as to how we are to move forward.”

Without another word, Larith led Arderi through the halls of Bin’Satsu and up several flights of stairs. They entered a massive room at the end of a long hallway, as large as the entire public house Arderi had been raised in. Twin fireplaces on either side of the room drove the chill from the air. Plush chairs and couches sat before the left fireplace, looking warm and inviting. A large table and chairs sat before the other. A vase of wildflowers decorated the center of the table. Four doors, two in each side wall, led left and right to even more rooms, he assumed. Across from the double doors they entered sat a set of stained-glass doors that opened onto a grand balcony. It was more inviting than any room he had yet seen in the Citadel.

An elderly man fluffing a cushion on one of the chairs when they entered set the pillow down and approached. “Master Rine.” The old man inclined his head. “The quarters are as ready as we could get them on such short notice.” He turned to Arderi and inclined his head almost as deep as he had done for Larith. “I am
Raynan Yhan. It will be my pleasure to take care of your needs during your stay with us.”

“I—um.” Arderi glanced around the room, an uncomfortable feeling enveloping him. “I am grateful, Mir’am Yhan.” He had never seen quarters so plush. The fact that they were all for him was overwhelming.

Arderi’s answer brought a smile to the old man’s lips. He shuffled off through one of the doors, calling to someone inside. A few moments later, Raynan returned with an elderly woman in tow. “This is my wife, Terona.” The woman inclined her head. “If you are in need of anything…” He pointed to a rope that dangled just to the left of the entry doors. “…please ring that bell and one of us will attend you.”

With that, the two left, leaving Arderi alone with Larith who also turned to go. “I hope you find the rooms to your liking. If you decide to wander, please do not go far. The Citadel is a confusing place for those who do not know its layout.”

When the door shut, Arderi glanced about the room.

The room is to my liking. I hope whatever is to become of me is to my liking as well.

“I do not understand!” Klain’s growl filled the sitting room, making the little blond-haired boy jump.

Charver Vimith gave the hulking Kithian his best ten-winter-old stare. “Just because you are almost three paces of fur, teeth and claws is no reason to go around growling like a lion!” The boy’s smile took away the sting from his words, however.

Klain did his best impersonation of the expression, though he knew it fell well short of what the Human’s called
a smile
. He suspected it might be his fangs that put people off when he did this.

As if Humans do not show their teeth when they smile!

The boy-cub’s smile widened. Though Charver barely came up to Klain’s waist, he held no fear of the large Kithian. “The game of Barca is easy. It is the oldest game in all of Talic’Nauth.” The boy waved a hand over the wooden board sitting on the small table that separated them. He looked down on it with its etched lines marking off a ten by ten grid of alternating black and white squares. “Each side, black and white, has six pieces. Two Krugours, two Niyoka, and two Drakons.” He pointed to each in turn.

Klain scoffed. “Why is the Krugour the same size as the Drakon? I have learned that the Drakon is supposed to be some enormous monster.”

Frowning up at Klain, Charver shook his head. “It is just a game piece. They are not to scale! Now, pay attention. The Krugour…” He placed a small finger on a coiled snake piece about three fingers tall. “…is afraid of the Niyoka.” He shifted his finger to a similarly sized shaggy-looking cat piece. “The Niyoka is afraid of the Drakon.” Moving his finger to the last piece, this one looked like a sleek winged cat with an elongated neck. Though, in size it matched the other two playing pieces. “And the Drakon is afraid of the Krugour.” Completing his circuit, he indicated the snake once more.

“That is yet another mystery to me.” Klain reached over and plucked up the black stone Krugour that sat on his side of the board. He held it awkwardly between the digits of his paw. “If the Drakon is supposed to be some monstrous beast, why would it be afraid of a Krugour? I have seen them and they are not much larger than a dog.”

Picking up one of the white ivory carvings of what the boy-cub called a Drakon—Klain could not believe that a long-necked housecat with wings existed anywhere on the Plane—Charver held it out in his small palm, examining it. “I am not sure why. It is just a part of the game.”

Klain grunted. “All right. Then why is a Krugour afraid of a little snake?”

“A Niyoka is not a little snake. My father says they grow bigger than a man sometimes. And they are as poisonous as they are black as coal.”

Klain smiled again, he knew he was frustrating the boy-cub. “You did not answer my question.”

Placing the piece back on the board, he held out his hand to Klain for the Krugour. “It just is.” Continuing as if he had not been interrupted, Charver put the piece on the board. “So, the Krugour can move as many spaces as you want forward and back. The Niyoka can move as many spaces as you want at a diagonal, and the Drakons can move as many spaces as you want in any direction.” Sliding the pieces as he spoke, Charver demonstrated. “They cannot jump any pieces as they move, however. And they can only move in one direction per turn.”

Setting the black Krugour piece on a square in the middle of the board, Charver placed the white Drakon several squares off to the side of it. “All of my pieces are friendly and can sit next to each other. However, since my Drakon is afraid of your Krugour, I cannot move it into any square adjacent to your Krugour. I can move past it…” He slid his Drakon past the Krugour piece to the other side of the board. “…just not stop on any adjacent square.” He indicated to the eight squares that surrounded Klain’s black Krugour. Setting the white Drakon back on the board, Charver picked up the black Krugour piece. “Now, if you move your Krugour into one of the adjacent squares around my Drakon…” He slid the piece across and stopped it in the square to the left of the white Drakon. “…you would make my Drakon scared. Any piece that is scared must move away on its next turn.”

“And if it cannot move, why does it not die on its next turn?” Klain was most troubled by the passiveness of the playing pieces. In battle, the use of fear was a wonderful tactic. It made it that much easier to kill your opponent if he was scared.

Tsking, Charver shook his little head. “Because none of the pieces are removed from this game. If the piece cannot move this turn, it must be moved the first turn it is able.”

Pointing to four oddly marked squares—the four diagonal to each of the center four squares—Klain made a circular motion with one claw. “And the game is won when either of us gets three of our pieces on any three of these four squares?”

“Aye! Those are the watering ponds. Having any three of your pieces on three of them ends the game.” With a big grin, the boy-cub snapped his fingers. “Simple as that! Shall we play now?”

Klain most definitely did not want to play the game, even if it was the oldest on the Plane. Sitting in a room, moving tiny carved pieces around a checkered board, was not something he saw as enjoyable. Yet, the boy-cub was his charge—not to mention the fact that the boy had saved Klain’s life. If a few aurns spent playing a game made Charver happy, Klain could find the willingness. “Aye. I suppose we can.”

Clapping his hands, Charver reset all the game pieces. “You can move first, Master Klain.”

Eyes wandering over the board, Klain reached out and grabbed the Krugour. Just as he was about to place the piece back down a few tiles from its original position, the door to the sitting room opened and a Human walked in. Klain smiled as the boy-cub jumped at the sudden entrance—the pads of Klain’s hindpaws had picked up the vibrations of the man’s boots coming down the hall well before he reached the door, though the door shut off the man’s scent from his nose so he had been unaware of who would enter—and watched the boy scowl up at his father.

Rohann Vimith was not a large man, even by Human standards—the man’s head stopped just short of Klain’s shoulder. The prosperous diamond merchant’s beard, spackled with gray and cut to a point, left his upper lip bare, as was the local style.

The man who followed in Master Vimith’s wake almost made Klain give a start to rival the boy-cub’s. Not that Klain did not expect a second person—his hindpaws told him there were two—who it was, however, startled him.

Satner Timms, the head of Master Vimith’s bodyguards, had avoided Klain like a disease since their last “encounter.” The man glanced at Klain as he continued his rant at their Master. “This is not what I signed up for. You say that you have been planning this for winters, yet this is the first I have heard of it? I am the head of your bodyguards. You tell me everything. And now, you want me to believe that you have kept this secret from me for how long?”

Rohann waved a hand over his shoulder. “Believe as you will, Timms.” He knelt down beside his son. “How are we this day, Charver?”

Charver’s scowl turned into a grin as it did whenever his father turned his attention to his son. “Fine, father. And you?”

Casting a stern look over his shoulder toward Timms forced the bodyguard to hold his tongue. Rohann ran a hand over his beard to sharpen the already sharp point. “How would you like to go on a quest, son?”

Saucer sized eyes filled Charver’s face and his mouth hung open. “A quest! Where?”

“Well…” Rohann reached out and picked up one of the white Drakon playing pieces from the board. “…I have been trying to acquire information about a fabled lost city for a long time now.”

“Lost city!” The boy-cub’s words were little more than wind escaping his lips. Klain noted that this caused the smile on Master Vimith’s face to grow, and the scowl on Timms’ to deepen.

“Yes. It is far from here and may take us more than a moon to reach it. Yet, I have obtained information that will lead us there.” Standing—with Klain sitting it was the only time Rohann looked down on him—Master Vimith held out the white playing piece for Klain to take. “And it might be dangerous.” Rohann cut his eyes to Timms once more. “Still, I think Master Klain here is more than enough to ensure your safety.” Reaching out, he slapped a hand upon Klain’s shoulder.

Though he had been free and in the service of the Human for some time now, Klain still had to repress the urge to strike out at the man for the overt gesture. He fought to maintain his calm and hoped the other man did not notice.

At least, Master Vimith no longer cringes when I growl.

Klain tried hard not to repeat the incident with his new Master that had happened on the first day they met. Fitting in with Humans—with how small and fragile they were, not to mention their beliefs that they were neither of those things—had been the hardest task Klain faced since his release from the gladiator pits. Still, his time at the Vimith Villa had been enjoyable. His charge, Charver Vimith, had fallen in line and rarely gave him any bother.

Well, nothing more than a shallow growl cannot fix.

Losing his smile, Rohann turned back to Satner Timms. “And as for you. You signed on to serve as the head of my bodyguard. Both here at my villa and when I travel.”

“Travel to other cities for business, aye! Not traipsing through foul jungles a hundred leagues from nowhere!” The scorn in Timms’ voice sounded a hair less than offensive.
Only
a hair.

Anger burned hot in Master Vimith’s eyes. “If you feel you should seek employment elsewhere, you have my leave.” Brushing past the man, Rohann stalked from the sitting room.

A deafening silence fell upon the room. After a long moment’s pause, Timms looked back at Klain. If the man was about to say anything, he kept it to himself. Turning, Satner left the room, closing the door behind him.

“What was that all about?” Charver’s squeak ripped Klain from his somber glare at the door.

“Of that, I am not sure. I have not found Timms to be a coward. There is more to it, I would gather.” Waving a hand over the checkered board, Klain grunted. “Let us play your Barca, shall we?”

The boy-cub’s grin smothered his worried expression, and Klain bent himself to the task of playing the game.

Though, I need to have words with Timms. Not knowing the
more
to this situation would be unwise.