Garnath crawled out of his hiding place looking rested. “How did it go today?” he asked cheerfully. Gundabyr gave him a murderous look.
“This is no life for a warrior.” Harmanutis sighed wearily. His hands were cracked and bleeding. “I don’t think I could grip a sword even if I possessed one.”
“This is no life for anyone,” Gundabyr growled.
“I hate fish,” Vanthanoris murmured. “Oh, for a roasted squab and a cup of steaming nectar, and maybe some thick, hot soup with plenty of …” His voice trailed off into soft snoring.
Armantaro just sat, silent and trembling. Vixa watched him and worried. He was too old for this mistreatment. His face was so pale, she feared he was ill.
Gundabyr was busy lighting fires around the grotto. His twin fell to cleaning the fish provided by their captors.
“Garnath,” Vixa said, “why would a float explode going up to the surface when no one was near enough to prick it?” She described the escape attempt she’d witnessed and its gruesome result.
“Hmph,” said the dwarf. “Sounds like the Law of Clouds to me.” Vixa gave him a blank look, and he explained. “The Law of Clouds states that air expands as it rises. I’d say that a buoy filled with air at the sea bottom would certainly burst long before it reached the surface. And a man, likewise filled with air at the seafloor, would also-er-explode, unless he exhaled as he rose.”
“But even if he exhaled properly, the bladders would still have burst,” put in Armantaro quietly.
“Nope, nope. Had he opened small holes in the floats, the air might have leaked out quickly enough to avoid bursting yet slowly enough to allow him to reach the surface.”
Vixa regarded him thoughtfully, rubbing her chin with one cracked hand. “But would he have enough breath to reach the surface?” she wondered. “Or would he exhale it all before getting there?”
Her musings were interrupted by an involuntary groan from Armantaro. Vixa dragged over a patch of sailcloth and used it to cover him, though he protested that he was perfectly fine. She pushed his shoulder gently until he lay down, his head resting on her leg.
“We must do something,” the princess stated flatly, smoothing wet hair from the colonel’s lined face. “Either by force or by guile, we’ve got to get out of this place.”
“There is no way out.” Gundabyr interrupted.
“No way at all,” his twin agreed.
“Of course there is,” she insisted. “We simply have to find it.”
Garnath shook his head. “It’s hopeless, lady. Me and Gundabyr’ve been working on the problem for weeks. I tell you, it’s hopeless.”
Angry, Vixa grabbed the nearest small object and threw it. It was a clay jar, which Gundabyr had filled with gnomefire paste. It smashed against the far wall, the sticky paste clinging to the black rock. Dew on the wall ignited the gnomefire.
“Hey!” Vanthanoris cried, scrambling to get out from under the dripping flames. A droplet of gnomefire fell on his pallet, which immediately caught fire. With much cursing and flinging of dirt, Vanthanoris and Harmanutis put out the small blaze.
“You must be careful, lady,” Gundabyr chided. “Once ignited, that stuff is very hard to control!”
Vixa stared at the smoking pallet.
“Gundabyr, can you make more of this stuff?” she asked unexpectedly.
The dwarf blinked his heavy-lidded eyes. I’ve already made half a hundredweight. How much do you need?”
“We need all you can make, my friend. All you can make, and more!”
Coryphene was waiting at the quay for Naxos. It was half an hour beyond the appointed time, and there was still no sign of the shapeshifter. Furious at the insult to his dignity, Coryphene ordered his personal guard to search for the insolent wretch.
“Bind him, if you must, but bring him to the palace at once!” he shouted. His troopers dove headfirst into the water to carry out their master’s order.
Coryphene stalked back to the palace, leaving the bearers of his sedan chair to puff along behind. He was oblivious to the praise called out to him by the common folk. Snarling a dismissal at his bearers, the Protector went through the magical barrier and swept into the palace plaza alone. There, lounging against one of the many green columns, was Naxos.
“You! You have earned my displeasure! How dare you keep me waiting!” stormed the warlord.
Naxos’s face showed nothing. “I, sir? Kept you waiting? I have been waiting here for you for some time.”
“What?”
“I was told to come to you, Excellence. Where else would I go but to the royal residence? I did not suppose you would come to the city quay to meet me.”
This reasonable explanation cooled Coryphene’s rage. He put a hand to his temple. His gills were dry, and his head had begun to ache. Seeing his leader’s discomfort, Naxos went to the nearest pump and filled a shell with water. By the time Coryphene had splashed the water over his head and shoulders, his fury had abated. He savored the touch of the life-giving fluid on his gills. After several moments, he was able to speak in a calmer tone.
“Her Divine Majesty has a task for you and the sea brothers,” he said.
“What’s that, Excellence?”
“You are to go to the coast of Silvanesti and survey the area for us.”
Naxos’s green-blue eyebrows rose. “May I ask why?”
“It is enough that Her Divinity wishes it done. Go at once.”
The shapeshifter bowed with a flourish that bordered on mockery. He whirled and took four long strides away, but stopped and turned back. “Does this perhaps concern the Qualinesti we captured, Excellence?” he inquired.
“You ask too many questions. Our Queen has ordered it. That is all you need to know.”
“I obey her divine will,” Naxos said smoothly. “I was just wondering-forgive me, Excellence-why the coast of Silvanesti interested Her Majesty, and not the waters off Qualinesti.”
Coryphene smiled. “As we have visitors from Qualinesti, it is not surprising that we don’t need your help in learning more about that land.”
Naxos’s smile was mirthless. “Ah, thank you for enlightening me. I am grateful for any scraps of wisdom Your Excellence deigns to bestow. I go, with all speed.”
The shapeshifter departed. Coryphene found his hands clenched around his sword hilt and dagger pommel. He forced his fingers to relax. Damn Naxos anyway! His insolence was infuriating. Every time they met, there was a battle of words, and Coryphene always found himself somehow coming off the worse.
As he walked into the palace, the Protector consoled himself with the thought that it was only a matter of time before the arrogant shapeshifter’s wit got him in deep trouble. That was something Coryphene would enjoy. Wholeheartedly.
Chapter 10
A strange thing happened on Vixa’s fourth day in Nissia Grotto. Morning arrived, what morning there was two hundred fathoms down, and no Dargonesti came to lead the captives to work. Men awoke and wiped their bloodshot eyes, yet no taskmasters broke out of the pool with airshells and brusque commands.
Hours passed, and still no one came.
“I don’t like it,” Harmanutis said. “Something’s amiss.”
“Obviously,” replied Armantaro. “But what?”
Gundabyr and Garnath returned from the depths of the cave, covered in all sorts of colored dust. Garnath announced they had the makings for a full hundredweight of gnomefire, but not enough pots and jars to hold it. Vixa had insisted the paste be divided into dozens and dozens of smaller containers, rather than concentrated in only a few larger ones. The dwarves and elves had scrounged up almost thirty pots. These lined the cave walls now, filled to their brims with sticky yellow goo.