Fifty-three
Dang-Ling glided across the floor through the dense steam, opened the hall door and smiled effervescently under his glossy pink lids. His voice swooshed, “Come in. Thank you for coming. We are bathing her now.”
Klang stood impatiently outside the door in the polished black corridor of Bahaara’s Temple of Dreams. The commanders of the Guards and Executioners stood behind him. All three wore combat armor. The warlord glanced at the high priest with disgust, as if he were an overly sweet desert, and entered.
Dang-Ling closed the door firmly in the faces of the two commanders, and plucked a large bamboo fan from a hook in the stone wall. Waving the steam aside, he proceeded into it. “This way. She is in the bath now. But watch your step. Before we drugged her she had a terrible fit, splashed water about everywhere.”
He guided Klang through the steam to a large, circular, vaporous pool set in the center of the stone floor.
A huge black mute, Baak, stood waist deep in the water holding Robin’s limp body under one hairless arm as he lathered her dyed hair with soapy bubbles. A dark stain swirled in the water around her head.
Klang looked intently at the young, unblemished girl.
Robin’s lips were parted. She was breathing in rapid erratic gasps. Her eyelids trembled, sometimes fluttering open to reveal glazed unfocused eyes.
“An absolutely exquisite subject, don’t you think?” Dang-Ling asked. “Gazul brought her, and was paid quite we’ll. He is a true professional, that man. He had dyed her hair and dressed her in rags. But I, of course, recognized her immediately.”
Dang-Ling motioned with a limp hand, and Baak lifted Robin out of the water with his huge hands. He turned her slowly so that her glistening smooth body could be seen from every angle: slender arrowlike legs, flat brown tummy, high firm breasts with their nipples pinkened by the heat, and luxuriously dripping red-gold hair. As submissive as a glove. Klang was visibly impressed.
Noticing this, Dang-Ling’s milky face turned florid, and a tremor ran through his voice. “Have you ever seen such a fabulous creation?”
“She’s still a child.” Klang snapped turning on the high priest. “What possible power can a child have over this savage killer?”
Contempt curled Dang-Ling’s lips, but he disguised it with unctuous words. “My lord, it is a puzzle to me as well, but I am certain she has some magic which will be the key to his destruction.”
“Then find its nature, priest. Quickly!”
Dang-Ling bowed stiffly, unable to conceal his bruised feelings. “If you will permit me to proceed, I will take her to my laboratory and begin the examination now.”
“Not yet, I am not finished.” Klang’s suspicious eyes riveted on the black man.
Dang-Ling bowed, saying petulantly, “He can not hear you. Baak is deaf and mute.”
Silence was between them, then the warlord said, “I have ordered the army to maintain a position between the Barbarian Army and this city, and delay its advance, but not engage it.”
A strained tenseness entered the high priest’s eyes.
“I am going to delay the battle until you, Dang-Ling, place in my hands the magic that will destroy their leader. Do you understand? The Fangko spear is not going to rip my heart out. I am going to kill him in personal combat.”
The high priest sputtered, “Whatever my lord commands, but… but personal combat! There are such risks! Unaccountable risks. An accidental fall, a spill of blood in the wrong place! There are just no guarantees, and your safety is the safety of us all.”
Klang placed a hand on the high priest’s shoulder, and squeezed it painfully as he drew the soft albino closer. “There will be guarantees, priest. You will see to them. In addition to whatever this child has to offer, you are going to find me an invincible weapon. Do you understand?” There were a hundred nefarious, even sacrilegious, meanings in his tone.
Dang-Ling, understanding the one he meant, suddenly relaxed, but was careful not to make it apparent. “I understand, my Lord,” he said evenly. “And fortunately your demand comes at an opportune time. My informants tell me that the unholy Master of Darkness himself wants this demon destroyed.”
“Informants?”
“Acquaintances, professional magicians. One in particular, a sorceress, is sometimes able to arrange for his help.”
“Then deal with her. Get me the strongest weapon he has.”
“Everything will have to be done in total secrecy.”
“Of course.”
Dang-Ling bowed slightly. “I will inquire as soon as she arrives, which should be shortly. I am sure she will be eager to help, as will he. The Lord of Death will be honored to assist a great and powerful leader such as yourself. But his price can be terribly high.”
“Do not instruct me, priest,” Klang snapped. “I am fully aware of the nature of his transactions.”
Dang-Ling bowed, and Klang strode through the steam, went out slamming the door behind him.
Dang-Ling grinned, rushed to the side of the pool and clapped his hands. The huge mute carried Robin’s dripping body up the sunken steps and through the steam to the far corner of the room. Dang-Ling pulled a lever hidden in the wall, and a huge stone lifted up off the floor. Flame-tinted clouds of smoke billowed up, encircling them, and they descended into it. Firelight ran riot in Robin’s wet, red-gold hair, then they were gone, and the stone lowered back into place.
Fifty-four
The smokey stairway descended to the high priest’s workroom. They crossed it and passed through a door beside the workbench, closing it behind them.
The huge rectangular room they entered was a stonewalled underground laboratory. A world of retorts, flasks, beakers, waterbaths, condensers, phials, ladles, crucibles, and corked glass jars holding human and animal organs:
hearts, gonads, livers, penises and tongues. A maze of bottle green vessels were mounted on the tables and connected to each other with glass tubing rising to large colorless crystal tubes suspended from the ceiling by iron bars. Many leaked hissing fumes that dripped to form fuming puddles on the floor.
The crystal tubes wound their way toward a huge, perfectly transparent glass vessel barely visible beyond the clutter of apparatus, the culmination of some mad thaumaturgical scheme.
The neck of the mammoth flask was suspended by iron rings from the ceiling. Its ten-foot bowl dangled into a large circular hole in the stone floor. Baak climbed a ladder to a wooden deck built around its long cylindrical neck. Using a pulley attached to the ceiling, he lowered Robin headfirst down through the neck into the bowl.
Naked, her limp, nut-brown body descended slowly into the crystalline glass. It magnified her to almost three times her normal size, and lust glimmered in Dang-Ling’s watching eyes.
When Robin landed on the bottom of the bowl, Baak climbed down the neck and untied her, then climbed back out and pulled the rope up behind him.
Dang-Ling had moved down a stone staircase that circled around the flask and now peered at Robin’s enlarged body hunting for a mark, numeral, or tattoo of some kind. At the bottom of the hole, he peered up as Robin tumbled over languidly onto her back, then over again onto her stomach. She half opened an eyelid, saw Dang-Ling’s soft boiled eyes glistening wetly only inches from her own, and moaned, collapsed again.
Hours later, after Dang-Ling’s priestesses, two middle-aged women named Dazi and Hatta, had induced various vapors and fluids into the retort, Dang-Ling was sitting tiredly on the staircase staring down at his subject’s wet, steaming body. Earlier, when snarling red smoke had swirled over her thrashing screaming nudity with its stinging bite, he had expected to see fangs or scales appear. Then, when the amber vapors were induced into the bowl, he had prayed for yellow cat eyes and claws to materialize from her flesh. But Robin had remained essentially unchanged. Then white powders nearly smothered the girl, but no insect wings or antennae appeared. And the ritually prepared saltwater which was designed to expose any relation to sea demons had also brought no results.