"Done," Laquatus said simply. "Hold the piece for me when you find it. In return I will aid you in smuggling your loot back to the continent." He looked her deep in the eyes. "Cross me, and I will prick this bubble of air. Your bones can be catalogued by the next curator."
She started running her hands over the pieces already gleaned, like a shopper handling fruit in the market. Laquatus turned and walked to the stairs, soiled at the crassness of the deal and having legs once again.
He mounted the stair and dived through the bubble, transforming even as he swam away, ignoring the guard who recorded his exit. He surged up into the palace. He might have been within yards of the orb, but he could not detect its power. It was hidden from his magical senses. Rumor spoke of perhaps a dozen chambers under the palace, and who knew where the fool of a curator might have put it. The ambassador also worried about his monarch. Fulla was a wild card, who knew what she might say if questioned.
Aboshan emptied troves cared for by the empire's mercenaries and selkies, dumping them to decay in his palace. Only the ruler's love of control and hunger for power had brought the relics to the palace. Now the distraction of a simple assassination attempt washed them from his mind.
"Well," vowed Laquatus, "if it is conspiracies that truly engage him, then conspiracies he will have." The ambassador laughed in the bowels of the palace. He would bring new treacheries before Aboshan to conceal his own. Turg followed his masters, grinning as new plans spawned in the merman's mind.
CHAPTER 20
Kamahl rode Emerald east, watching for signs of the ambassador's caravan. The gecko's sinuous gait lulled the barbarian as he remembered his escape from the town.
The mountain mage had climbed the rubble ramp to the keep's upper stories looking for signs of another exit as the cries from Order reinforcements sounded below. Through the dust laid down by his destruction, he could see tracks that led him to the postern gate. The mountain warrior skirted the crystal effect, seeing its rate of advance slowing as it continued to fill the castle. The taste of the orb's magic faded as the growth slowed.
The postern gate led down a hidden path outside the city walls. The tumult inside the town died down as Kamahl rejoined the flow of refugees. A golden coin secured him a spare great cloak from an elen bird warrior. The garment was sized for someone nine feet tall and even after a few alterations with a dagger, it was still all-enveloping. It was a measure of the people's unrest that he did not attract more notice. He moved into the old city, listening for news. But rumor ruled the crowded streets, not the Order. He headed for the Citadel road once more, hoping to find out what had occurred.
Kamahl remembered the swell of power as he felt the orb change only minutes after he saw Turg following after the lieutenant. The mer must hold the prize by now. The barbarian wondered if Kirtar survived. Somehow he doubted it.
His leg began to pulse with fresh pain from the wounds inflicted by the frog. He moved down an alley, ready for any attacker, but it was a dead end. Despite the city's overcrowding, a momentary break in the traffic gave him privacy and allowed him to seek shelter. He drew an axe and knife and jumped, his leg screaming in protest as he rose. As he started to fall back, he sank his tools into the wood racing of the building's corner. Rot and lack of care allowed his blades to bite deeply, sending sawdust to the alley below. He crawled up the structure's side, his arms burning as he finally reached the roof.
This building was shorter than the others backing the alley. He crawled behind a storage shed and concealed himself from observation. Momentarily safe, he ate what food he had. Thirst led him to raid a rainwater cistern, and he gulped the cool water down. Weary, for even his endurance had its limits, he lay down to rest.
He awoke that night. The city was quieter, the sun set some hours before. He wrapped the cloak tighter around him and drank more of the water. He had no more food. Kamahl squatted to test his leg. Finding himself fit he decided to brave the city once more.
He dropped into the alley, his lower limbs hurting at the strain but healed enough for full use. There was still traffic on the street despite the hour but not like Cabal City, whose denizens never seemed to sleep. There was a different feel to these pedestrians. They were more afraid and more furtive, even as they stayed close to the lights. Kamahl remembered his friend Chainer who seemed to know most of his city's secrets. The barbarian decided the best source of information might be one of the night birds flitting through the streets.
The first lone walkers proved almost useless. His cloaked form emerged from the darkness provoking two responses. They collapsed in panic or attacked with suicidal bravado. One man continued to fight even after Kamahl slapped his weapons aside several times with his bare hands. Finally he knocked the man out in disgust. Perhaps a more predatory type would be more amenable to conversation.
A group of youths moved in concert through a street. The avenue was barely lit by damp wood burning in a metal basket. A copper hood reflected light to the ground.
The boys split up, settling into positions outside the flow of traffic. Their actions reminding Kamahl of feral cats choosing their prey. The gang looked into the street and not toward each other. The barbarian picked a member off silently, covering the young man's mouth. They disappeared into the night, Kamahl's cloak wrapped around his catch.
The boy was ragged and smelled, a rusty blade thrust through his belt. The dirty pallor of his skin and the color of his clothes hid him from those without Kamahl's night-sight. The barbarian watched him struggle to exude confidence as he stood an arm's length away.
"My friends will come looking for me," the city dweller said, staring hard at Kamahl. The gang member's hand was on his blade, but the weapon was left undrawn.
"Better for them if they do not," the barbarian said and stepped a little closer, forcing his captive against a wall. "All I desire from you is a little information. Do you know what happened in the castle today?"
The impromptu informant relaxed slightly.
"They say that western barbarian and a group of conspirators broke into the Citadel. They were the ones behind the animal attacks. The swine forced refugees into the city, so they could strike from the cover of the crowd." Kamahl wondered how good his information could be with these falsehoods cast as truth. "The traitors managed to kill the captain and the lieutenant despite all efforts to stop them. The entire Order might have been crippled if not for the mer ambassador's warnings."
"Tell me about Laquatus and his jack, Turg," Kamahl ordered, wondering if he should waylay an Order patrol. Perhaps they might have more accurate information.
"The merman and the pit frog were heroes," the young thug said excitedly. "They would have been feted for days if not called back to the ocean on urgent business." The city dweller paused. "How could you know nothing of what happened? The town has been abuzz for hours." He started forward, and Kamahl shoved him back.
"Why should I believe you know anything at all about the ambassador?" the mountain warrior asked, showing his teeth. "All you seem to know is rumor and innuendo."
"Because I watched them leave the city for the east!" came the hot reply, the injustice of being called a liar seeming to raise the boy's courage. Kamahl's snort of disbelief further inflamed the informant.
"I saw them leave this afternoon," he insisted, drawing his knife. "I watched the ambassador ride out the eastern gate." He waited for an attack, but there was only silence as the barbarian melted away.