“Gods!” he shouted, pulling his hand free almost the instant after he had touched the effigy.
“What is it, Father?” Reegan asked, not so much concerned as fascinated by his father’s surprise.
“It… there’s… forget it! No one touches these until I say so! Do you all understand me?” His eyes focused on Sharissa. “Not until more is known about them.”
“We should be away from this place,” Faunon suggested, both unnerved and frustrated at being here.
“Nonsense.” Almost in defiance of the elf’s words, Barakas pointed to a series of tunnels to the left of the cavern entrance. “I want those traced for a good thousand paces. If they go further, mark your place and return here. The same with those behind this,”-the patriarch surveyed what stood behind the effigies. It was a ruined set of steps that rose for some distance and ended nowhere in particular-“this dais. Yessss, a throne must have stood here once.”
Soldiers rushed to obey, their places instantly filled by newcomers. Barakas removed his helm and watched them for a moment. The dragonlord then smiled at Faunon as if he had proved to the elf that there was nothing to fear, that he, the patriarch, had the situation under his complete control.
The Tezerenee were everywhere now, each warrior trying his or her best to please their lord and master. They skirted around artifacts and broken relics as they scoured the tall cavern chamber for anything of interest. Now and then, one of them would find something of sufficient importance that the patriarch would deign to investigate himself. Several times he vanished from sight, even daring short excursions into various subchambers.
Like a plague of thieves! Sharissa gritted her teeth. How much would be lost despite Barakas’s warning to be careful? This was a search that should have required months of careful work, not a few hours of haphazard running around.
While the Tezerenee searched, the three captives waited. Darkhorse was still frozen in place, and Lochivan, who still made no move to aid in the search, appeared to be disinclined to release him. Two guards watched over the anxious elf. Faunon flinched every time a warrior touched something or passed within arm’s length of the massive statues. As for Sharissa… she was forced to endure Reegan’s nearness and the fact that she was not being allowed to even participate, despite Barakas’s offer back in the citadel.
The latter problem became less significant as Reegan held her closer. With no one paying attention, the heir apparent was growing more and more familiar with her. He leaned near and whispered, “This will be the throne room of my kingdom, Sharissa. Did you know that?”
Rather than turn her face to his-and risk his suddenly desiring a kiss or some such foolishness-she stared at the statues. They were so very lifelike, Sharissa almost thought they breathed…
“The elf gave us a rough idea of what this continent is like. One of his fellows had a map, although we didn’t tell your friend that until we could see if he was lying-which he wasn’t, lucky for him. Father’s got the land divided between my brothers and me. Thirteen kingdoms now that Rendel’s dead and Gerrod’s as good as the same. We lost Zorain in the fight yesterday, or else there’d be fourteen.”
She had no idea who Zorain was save that he had obviously been yet another offspring of the patriarch. More to keep him babbling about something other than their would-be relationship than because she was interested, the sorceress asked, “What about your sisters and your cousins?”
He shrugged. “There’ll be dukedoms and such, not that it matters. Father has it all worked out.”
Were the eyes of the catman figure she now stared at staring back at her? Impossible… wasn’t it? “Where does he plan to rule? What kingdom will your father rule?”
His stiffening body made her glance at him despite her resolve. “He never says.”
The statues called her eyes to them once more. They had an almost hypnotic way about them, one that demanded her attention. “That doesn’t sound like the Lord Barakas Tezerenee.”
Reegan said nothing more, but another short glance showed his brow furrowed in thought. He was also scratching at his throat where the dry skin caused by the rash had spread all over his neck and probably down his chest. His unsightly appearance only made the effigies that much more inviting to gaze at.
“Lochivan! Reegan!” The patriarch’s voice echoed again and again throughout the cavern passages. Small, hideous creatures, disturbed by the loud noise, fluttered from their darkened places, realized they were in light of some sort, and scurried back to the sanctuary of the cool shadows.
“You’ll have to come with me,” the bearlike Tezerenee needlessly informed his prize. Sharissa did not argue; it would have been useless and, besides, standing around only frustrated her more. At least now she might learn something of value to her own goals.
The two of them passed close to Darkhorse. Though his cold blue eyes had no pupils, Sharissa knew that he watched her. Thinking of his predicament, she looked over to where Lochivan still stood, apparently trying to decide what to do about the eternal. In the end, he left the hapless creature the way he was, something that infuriated the sorceress further. It seemed that Darkhorse was to spend the rest of his existence trapped in one infernal torture or another and only because the Tezerenee found it useful.
Before this day was over, she would have another talk with Barakas. If it meant sacrificing some of her own liberty-small as that was-then so be it.
Lochivan joined the two, his eyes never veering from the path before him. He walked as if he wanted little to do with his brother or the woman to whom he had hinted deep affection for. This close, Sharissa could hear his rasping breath again. His gait was off as well, though not in any one way she could fix upon. It was almost as if he had broken some bones and had them reset by someone with no knowledge of what they were doing.
She noted the present location of the box, for all the good it did her. Lochivan kept it away from her, one arm cradling it much the way an infant would have been-not that she could imagine any of the Tezerenee holding a child.
“Where are you, Father?” Reegan called. The voice had come from somewhere behind the crumbling dais, but the back wall seemed pockmarked with passages, any one of which might be the tunnel the patriarch had chosen.
A warrior stumbled out of a passage and, realizing who stood before her, quickly saluted. “You were seeking the clan master?”
“Yes, is he in there?”
She nodded, stepping aside as quickly as possible. “He is several hundred paces below. The tunnel dips and finally ends in another chamber. You will find him there.”
Reegan nodded his satisfaction with her report. “Be about your duties, then.”
When the soldier was gone, Lochivan turned to his brother. He sounded no better than the last time. “Take the Lady Sharissa and go on ahead. I… I will be along in a moment.”
The other Tezerenee studied his younger brother for a moment, then nodded. “May it pass quickly.”
“It will. It is only a matter of will. As he has always said.”
It took no great thinking to understand that they spoke of the rash or disease that had afflicted so many of them. Lochivan seemed to be suffering more than the others, although she had hardly been among the Tezerenee long enough to know that for certain. Sharissa tried to take one last peek at Lochivan, but Reegan purposely steered her so that she would have to look through him to see what was happening to his brother.
Someone had lit the dry, ancient torches that stuck out from the sides of the passage. The Seekers, she recalled, were also creatures of the light, which made the torches no great surprise. What she still marveled at was why they had lived in such a place as this when they so obviously reveled in flight.
They were near the end of their trek when a figure came walking up the passage from the opposite direction, virtually blocking their path. The patriarch and his eldest blinked at one another. Sharissa, studying the clan master, was puzzled by the equally puzzled look dominating his features.