Of the dragons, his teachers said much. He learned of the mighty scarlet wyrm, the red dragon whose breath burned like the flame of an infernal furnace, and the white, whose exhalation exploded like a blast of arctic frost. When Fendis described this serpent, the warrior vividly recalled the frigid eruption from the white blade of his sword. Then he learned of the black wyrm and- mindful of his midnight blade-he listened avidly to the description of this dragon's caustic acid breath. Spit in a long stream, the liquid could rot flesh, wood, or metal with ease. Neither were the green and blue dragons excepted. The former's expulsion of poisonous gas, a seeping, seething cloud of noxious fumes, brought insidious and horrifying death. The latter's lightning bolt could sear enemies with explosive force, or pulse through metal with sizzling heat, melting even steel bars in a way that mere fireballs could not. And these five attacks comprised only the breath attacks of the col shy;ored dragons. The creatures also possessed claws that could rend an ox and jaws that could crush a small house.
Many dragons, he learned, stood so high in the favor of their goddess that the Dark Queen granted them spells with which to further her aims. And it was with the discussion of these spells that another fascinating phase of his training began.
Fendis and Parkane worked with Ariakas alone, drawing forth from him the memory of the power that had possessed him when he had cured Ferros Wind-chisel's wounds, and his own. For long hours the clerics instructed him on the rituals of prayer that allowed mor shy;tals to tap into immortal power.
Ariakas showed a remarkable aptitude in these stud shy;ies. Soon he could call into existence a globe of light such as Parkane had used in the Sanctified Catacombs, or weave an enchantment to create a fine meal-or to cor shy;rupt and decay a large stockpile of food. A useful spell allowed him to neutralize a poisonous meal even before it was ingested, or to cure the effects of toxin afterward.
He learned chants that could increase his effectiveness in battle, and others that could reveal the presence of traps and snares in his path. The two elder priests were astonished at the rapid pace of his progress, and for a time it seemed that every day added a new magical incantation to the warrior's repertoire.
Not all of his studies consisted of these lessons in his shy;tory, magic, destiny, and power. The temple encouraged well-rounded training, and Ariakas joined a class taught by the priestess Lyrelee in bare-handed combat. When he first observed her, he was fascinated by her skill in the unique hand-fighting technique, and greatly attracted by her feline power and beauty. He welcomed the opportu shy;nity to join her class. In his initial lesson he watched her throw several young and obviously inexperienced novices onto the floor, deflecting their attacks with clever feints and crisp, well-practiced maneuvers.
When he stood up for his turn, he all but swaggered over to her, determined to show the youngsters what a real warrior could do when faced with such fancy foot shy;work-and incidentally ensuring that he earned this woman's respect. Several seconds later, from his position flat on the floor, he reflected that perhaps the lightning-quick woman could teach him a thing or two.
Wryllish Parkane himself instructed Ariakas on the techniques of meditation, which the high priest assured him would greatly facilitate the communication between man and goddess. Wryllish sat for hours, motionless, and-though at first the monotony threatened to drive Ariakas mad-the warrior swiftly developed the patience to match his teacher. He found that these ses shy;sions really did liberate his mind, allowing his imagina shy;tion to drift into places usually reserved for his dreams.
This is not to say that Ariakas became a monk. In fact, though he visited the temple for at least a short time every day, he returned to his house on most nights. Fer-ros Windchisel had wasted no time in making himself at home there, and when Ariakas remained in the temple for several days at a time the warrior was glad to know that someone was keeping watch over his property.
When Ariakas did come home, the dwarf and the human often made a long evening of it, exploring the inns and taverns of Sanction. Often they got roaring drunk, occasionally they found-and won-a fight, and always Ariakas felt in the dwarf a kindred spirit. He reflected that a true warrior is a warrior foremost, be he dwarf or human.
The Hylar spent his days seeking information on the Zhakar, a task that had become exceedingly difficult in the weeks following their confrontation at the Fungus Mug. The mysterious dwarves might have all gone underground, for as much information as Ferros could garner.
Growing increasingly irritable as time passed without success, Ferros Windchisel began to complain about life in Sanction. His favorite gripe was a claim that the place was infested by tiny, biting firebugs. Showing Ariakas raw, itching wounds on his arms, the dwarf insisted that vile insects took nocturnal snippets from his skin. Aria shy;kas suffered no bites himself, but he could not dispute the reality of the dwarf's suffering.
The best that Ferros could do about his quest to find Zhakar was to get a secondhand description of a convo shy;luted trail from an old ship's captain. The man claimed he'd once hired a Zhakar mate who had divulged a few details about his homeland. These the captain related to Ferros-in exchange for the two barrels of beer con shy;sumed during the discussion.
Of all Ariakas's activities, inside the temple and out, he found that the combat lessons with Lyrelee were the most appealing and invigorating. The woman knew a tremendous amount, and was eager to share her knowl shy;edge. Ariakas, in turn, began to instruct Lyrelee and some novices in the use of the sword, dagger and bow- the three weapons with which he was most comfortable.
He continued to find the priestess to be an alluring female, and for the first time since his stay in the tower he began to consider the delightful prospect of intimate physical joy. He had routinely hired harlots since his arrival in the city, but regarded time spent with them as little more than fleeting and impersonal entertainment.
Ariakas spent time talking to Lyrelee after the other students had departed the class, and the warrior sensed that she, too, felt a kindling of desire. He remembered the warning of Takhisis regarding his women, but some shy;times he tried to convince himself that it couldn't truly apply to the lithe priestess. Certainly a woman who labored so diligently in the Dark Queen's service could not be made a scapegoat for her punishment!
These were the thoughts that occupied his mind as he made his way home, long after dark, one late-summer night. He had just crossed the Grand Bridge, which was still crowded even at this late hour, and had begun to meander up the hill toward his palatial house.
A scurrying form moved through the shadows of an alley, and Ariakas spun, reaching for his black-bladed sword-though he didn't draw the weapon.
Cloaked in dark robes, a short figure shuffled toward him, stopping ten feet away. He could make out no details beneath the deep cowl.
'Tale Splintersteel wants to see you," hissed the figure. "He will meet you tomorrow night, alone. Be in the cen shy;ter of the Fireplaza at midnight."
Before Ariakas could respond, the hunched figure darted into the shadows and disappeared.
Chapter 14
Plaza of Fire
"I'm going with you!" Ferros insisted after Ariakas told him about the mysterious summons. The two sat in the estate's great room, with glowing embers in the fireplace and tumblers of lavarum near to hand. The house was silent around them, though Ariakas knew that mute Kandart watched and waited in the shadows, ready for the moment when the glasses were empty.