It was with some surprise that he learned the good captain was gone. He left for the coast before the ambassador even arrived at the capital. Laquatus, using his new status, found the entry logs for the day in question. The guard who admitted Satas to the palace vaguely remembered the little amphibian. He recalled directing the tresias to the treasure room. The ambassador called Turg to him from where the frog lurked and swam to the lower portions of the palace to find the sphere.
Laquatus stopped at the lowest entry way in shock. Instead of a valve or gate there was a soldier planted in front of a shimmering sphere. The guard had a humanoid torso, but instead of legs or a tail, the rest of his body was a long stalk. The lower portion of the column flared out and merged with an outcropping of the palace. The soldier swayed idly, his hands gripping a short spear. He saw the aristocrat and his jack and straightened, his lower body altering color as if drawing force from the structure surrounding him. Inside the sphere, or more properly hemisphere for it met the ground, was dry rock and a trapdoor.
"Greetings, Your Excellency," the guard said, tilting his body down. "How may I be of service?"
The ambassador still looked at the sight of dry land under the sea.
"Yes, it is something of a surprise," the warrior said, "but it was necessary for the workers from the continent." His body bobbed as he looked at the merman.
"What workers?" Laquatus asked, crowding closer.
"Why the workers the Cabal sent in response to the emperor's order several days ago," the guard said in puzzlement. "The care of the treasure room needed specialized services that the caretaker could not provide. They became absolutely necessary when the previous holder died during the traitors' attack."
"Drylanders, here?" Laquatus questioned, his tone alerting the guard to his displeasure.
"Do not worry," the guard said. "I keep close watch, and none of them can breathe water. The captain of the guard inspected them for signs of the queen's magic, and they all were clean. They are as trapped as surely as a meal in a shark's belly."
"I would inspect the treasure rooms. What should I do?" the ambassador said as Turg tried to slip around to the guard's back. His master warned him off, knowing that those serving in the palace would be inspected for signs of tampering. The waxboard showed Satas's sigil. The amphibian had arrived and left within a half-hour, days before.
Laquatus chuckled at the quick exit. There was every chance that the captain never reported to the emperor or anyone except the caretaker. The merman made his mark and prepared to transform. Turg was already in the bubble and standing up, preparing to pull open the trapdoor. The guard returned his attention to the outside passage. At least Laquatus was spared the indignity of being observed as he grew legs.
The ambassador emptied his lungs of water as the frog opened the trapdoor. Stairs led down the bowed timber from ships' hulk The floor was covered in muck and sand, and the smell of rotting seaweed rose through the door. Then the merman saw some of the workers inside and included rotting flesh as a source of the stench. The servants were, after all, from the Cabal.
"Ambassador Laquatus," a voice hailed him. A woman separated herself from the crowd of living and dead workers and hurried over. The underground room extended for yards in every direction. Groups of zombies and black-clad Cabal servitors piled garbage into baskets and dug down to rock. More timber waited, and Laquatus realized that they were putting up shelves instead of the matrix of pigeonholes and sealed pillars that sea people usually employed.
"I remember you from your marvelous party. I see you also brought my playmate." With a sinking heart he recognized Fulla, her braids plastered with mud against her head. "I would apologize for the mess, but I did not make it. Besides, I remember the condition of your embassy when I left."
Why did it have to be the dementia caster? Any ordinary servant or mage could be manipulated by false memories, but a despairing Laquatus remembered her resistance to his spells.
"Have I offended you somehow?" he heard her ask and brought himself back to reality.
"Not at all, my dear," he gushed, trying to match her enthusiasm. "I was just thinking what chance brought you here," he finished through gritted teeth.
"Well, I will be here for quite some time," she laughed gaily. She waved to the muck and mire. "1 and my staff are retained by your gracious emperor to catalog and repair the treasures. Wonders that are rescued, only to be buried here under your palace."
A sucking roar developed as zombies pulled at a chest, uncovering an opening to levels below. Water and mud cascaded down.
"Your previous caretaker placed items randomly in a series of chambers, of which this is only one," she explained as she walked to the hole, looking down into the water. Laquatus could feel a spell engaging, and the water slowly began to subside. More mounds of muck were revealed with a few gleaming pieces of metal. The debris glittered slightly in the light pumped from the palace above.
"One of your ministers was bright enough to realize that we needed air to work. He also discovered that some of the pieces were damaged by water," Fulla said.
Zombies splashed into the lower chambers and began filling baskets the servants handed to them.
"He failed to realize that withdrawing the water would settle everything to the deeper rooms and bury them. To be honest, I do not approve of the former caregiver. There is an unholy lode of mud to be cleared away."
The ambassador nodded dumbly, accepting that a servant of the Cabal would be the best judge of unholy. He realized with a sinking liver that tracking down the orb might still be a formidable task.
"Are there no records of where materials were stored?" he asked hopefully. She shook her head in amusement.
"No. Just a record of what the caretaker received," she said. "For example, the last entry is of a sphere that gave an impression of tremendous power."
The ambassador nodded with excitement. The prize was here.
"The logs show what came in and what went out, but the actual locations are a complete mystery. And that was before nearly everything sunk into different rooms when the water was forced out.
"Surely the other workers have some idea?" he questioned her, hoping there might be someone else to interrogate.
"What other workers?" Fulla replied with exasperation. "From the logs, almost everything was handled by the previous caretaker. I am informed that the servants who did work here cannot function in the open air." Baskets of gunk were thrown out of the entry hole to splat into the mud. "If you can call this open air."
She retreated to a stack of shelves with wax boards and paper books open.
"I and my colleagues are cataloging what we find and entering a reference to the original logs and a current position."
She appeared busy, but Laquatus could not equate her new position as chief curator with her career as a jack in the pits.
"How did you end up here?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. She glanced back, and her face filled with the demons that drove her.
"By the same process that cast you to the Cabal's far shore," she replied. Her features calmed, and she spoke without intonation. "What truly brings you here ambassador? I doubt it was a quest for close friends."
Laquatus considered his answer for several seconds. Just for variety he essayed the truth.
"The final object received here," the merman said. "I want it. What will it cost for me to have it my possession, no questions asked?"
The novelty of a straight answer seemed to disarm the dementia caster, and she fumbled for a response.
"A great many pieces were damaged," she finally said, turning to the shelves. "Some of them beyond repair. But even ruined, they might be of interest the Cabal for research purposes." Her face turned sly, destroying any attempt at disguising her greed.