The elves shed the fur coats they had donned to combat the frigid cold. Hugh dumped the charwood out of the brazier into the firebox. The ice began to melt from the ship, pouring off the hull, falling to the ground below them like rain.
All hands not directly involved with the flying of the ship gazed in wide-eyed wonder at this enchanted realm. There must be water in abundance, was almost everyone’s first thought. The ground was covered with lush vegetation, tall trees with green leaves dotted a landscape of rolling hills. Here and there, tall pearl spires stood against the sky; broad roads crisscrossed the valleys and vanished over the ridges.
Sinistrad flew before them, the quicksilver dragon streaking like a comet across the sun-drenched sky, making the graceful dragonship seem lumbering and clumsy by comparison. They followed his lead, and ahead of them, on the horizon, a cluster of spires appeared. Sinistrad aimed the dragon’s head toward this location, and as the elven ship drew nearer, all on board saw it was a gigantic city.
Hugh had once, during his days as a slave, visited the capital city of Aristagon, of which the elves were very justly proud. The beauty of its buildings, which are made of coralite molded into artistic shapes by skilled elven craftsmen, are legendary. But the jewels of Tribus were common paste and glass when compared to the wondrous city that lay glistening before them—a handful of pearls scattered over green velvet with an occasional ruby or sapphire or diamond set among them.
A silence of profound awe, almost reverence, filled the elven ship. No one spoke, as if fearful of disturbing a lovely dream. Hugh had been taught by the Kir monks that beauty is ephemeral and all man’s work will come to naught but dust in the end. He’d seen nothing yet in his lifetime to convince him otherwise, but now he began to think maybe he’d been wrong. Tears ran down Limbeck’s cheeks; he was constantly forced to remove his spectacles and wipe them off so that he could see. Alfred appeared to forget whatever inner torment he was suffering and gazed out on the city with a face softened by what one might almost call melancholy.
As for Haplo, if he was impressed, he didn’t show it, other than evincing a mild interest as he stared with the rest of them out the porthole. But then, Hugh thought, scrutinizing the man carefully, that face of his never shows anything—fear, elation, worry, happiness, anger. And yet, if one looked carefully, there were traces, almost like scars, of emotions that had cut deep. The man’s will alone had smoothed them out; almost, but not quite, erased them. No wonder he makes me want to keep putting my hand to my sword. I think I’d almost prefer an avowed enemy at my side than Haplo as a friend. Sitting at Haplo’s feet, gazing about with more interest than its master evinced, the dog suddenly ducked its head and gnawed at its flank, apparently driven to search out an elusive itch.
The elven ship entered the city. It drifted low over wide, flower-lined boulevards that wound among tall buildings. What these buildings were made of was anyone’s guess. Smooth and sleek, they seemed to be created out of pearls—those gems that are sometimes found among the coralite and are rare and precious as drops of water. The elves sucked in their breaths and glanced at each other out of the corners of their almond eyes. A cornerstone of pearl alone would give them more wealth than their king himself possessed. Hugh, rubbing his hands, felt his spirits lift. If he got out of here alive, his fortune was made.
Dropping lower, they could see, beneath the vessel, upturned faces stare at them curiously as they passed. The streets were crowded; the city’s population must number in the thousands, Hugh reckoned. Sinistrad guided the ship to a huge central park and indicated, by hand signals, that here they were to drop anchor. A crowd of wizards had gathered here, gazing at them curiously. Though none of the magi had ever seen a mechanical contraption such as this, they were quick to catch hold of the guy ropes tossed over the side by the elves and fasten them to trees. Captain Bothar’el caused the ship’s wings to fold in almost completely, so that only a small bit of magic kept the vessel afloat. Hugh and his companions were brought to the bridge and arrived there the same moment as Sinistrad and Bane appeared, seeming to step out of the air. The mysteriarch bowed respectfully to the captain.
“I trust your trip was not unduly difficult? Your ship sustained no damage from the ice?”
“Little, thank you,” replied Captain Bothar’el, bowing in turn. “What damage we sustained we will be able to repair.”
“My people and I will be most happy to furnish you with materiaclass="underline" wood, rope—”
“Thank you, that will not be necessary. We are accustomed to making do with what we have.” It was obvious that the beauty of this realm and all its wealth had not blinded Bothar’el’s eyes. He was in alien lands, among an enemy race. Hugh was growing to like this elf. There was, he could see, no need to warn Bothar’el of his danger.
Sinistrad did not seem offended. Smiling a rictus smile, he said he hoped the crew would disembark and take in the pleasures of their city. Several of his people would come aboard and keep an eye on the slaves.
“Thank you. I, myself, and some of my officers may later be pleased to accept your invitation. As for now, we have work to do. And I would not want to burden you with responsibility for our slaves.”
Sinistrad, it seemed, might have raised an eyebrow had he had one. As it was, the lines in his forehead lifted slightly, but he said nothing, merely bowed again in acquiescence, the smile deepening and darkening. “I could make this ship mine in five seconds, if I wanted it,” said the smile. Captain Bothar’el bowed, and he, too, smiled.
Sinistrad’s gaze slid over Hugh, Limbeck, and Alfred. It seemed they lingered for some time on Haplo, and the slight crease of a thoughtful frown appeared between the eyes. Haplo returned the inspection with his quiet, unassuming expression, and the frown line disappeared.
“You will have no objection, I hope, sir, to my taking these passengers of yours to meet my wife and to stay as guests in my house? We are most beholden to them for saving the life of our only child.”
Captain Bothar’el replied that he was certain his passengers would enjoy escaping the dull routine of shipboard life. Hugh, reading between the words, figured that the elf was glad to be rid of them. The hatch opened, a rope ladder was thrown out. Sinistrad and Bane left the bridge in their usual airy style; the others descended via the ladder. Hugh was the last one to leave the ship. Standing in the hatchway, watching the others slowly and clumsily make their way down, he was startled by a light touch on his arm. Turning, he looked into the eyes of the elf captain.
“Yes,” said Bothar’el, “I know what he wants. I’ll do my best to make certain he doesn’t get it. If you come back with money, we’ll get you out of here. We’ll wait for you as long as we can hold out.” The elf’s mouth twisted. “I expect to be paid as promised—one way or the other.”
A cry and thud from below announced that Alfred, as usual, had come to grief. Hugh said nothing. There was nothing to say. All was understood. He began to climb down the ladder. The others were on the ground already, Haplo and Limbeck tending a prone and unconscious Alfred. Standing next to Haplo, licking Alfred’s face, was the dog, and it occurred to Hugh to wonder, as he descended, how the animal or its master had managed such a remarkable feat. Hugh had never heard of a four-legged animal being able to climb down a rope ladder. But when he asked the others, no one seemed to have noticed. A group of twenty mysteriarchs—ten men and ten women—was on hand to welcome them. Sinistrad introduced them as mystagogues, teachers of the arcane and the ruling body of the city. They appeared to be of varying ages, though none were as young as Sinistrad. One couple looked to be ancient, their faces wizened masses of wrinkles nearly hiding eyes that were shrewd and intelligent and held in them knowledge amassed over who knew how many years. The others were in mid-life, with firm, unlined faces, hair thick and richly colored with only a few strands of silver or gray at the temples. They were pleasant and polite, welcoming visitors to their fair city, offering all in their power to make the stay memorable.