Unfortunately, the spell that had saved Atreus as an infant became a curse as he matured, altering his life essence so that he grew into the ugliest young nobleman in Faerun. He had tried everything to change his appearance, using his wealth to seek out mighty wizards, famous miracle workers, and theatrical make-up artists, even surgeons. Nothing worked, and in some cases the efforts left him uglier than before.
Nor could Atreus seek help from the wizard who had cast the spell in the first place. The entire Shield breaker tribe claimed to have forgotten the identity of Atreus's family. Considering the mental capacity of ogres, this seemed just barely possible, but Atreus suspected they had other reasons for their silence. Over the years he had tried hundreds of times to cajole Yago into telling him more. The ogre always maintained that he could recall nothing except the month of Atreus's birth, the month that had provided Atreus with the only family name he'd ever known. In the end, Atreus had no choice but to accept Yago's word and continue his quest with no knowledge of the magic that had made him ugly in the first place. Finally a perplexed sage had suggested joining the Church of Beauty, in the hope that the goddess would take pity on him and use her divine powers to make him handsome.
Atreus had immediately rented a small villa in Duhlnarim and dedicated himself to the worship of Sune Firehair, Goddess of Beauty and Love. Now he was kneeling before her Pool of Dreams, hardly able to believe the platitudes with which she was repaying nearly two years of faithful devotion.
"If I have felt sorry for myself," Atreus said, "it is with good reason. My failings are no worse than those of most men."
"Perhaps." Sune's face rose closer, breaking the surface of the pool. "But only you can change what you are."
Her sapphire eyes grew bright and cold, and Atreus sensed that she was waiting.
"Then tell me how to change, and I will do it."
A slight smile crept across the goddess's lips. It was a flirtatious smile, such as beautiful women have always used to entice favors from willing men.
"There might be something you can do." Her sapphire eyes darted to their corners, as though she had only at that moment thought of what she would ask. "You could bring me a vial of sparkling water from the Fountain of Infinite Grace."
"The Fountain of Infinite Grace?" Atreus echoed.
"In paradise," Sune explained. "A place called Langdarma."
Before Atreus could ask where Langdarma was, the goddess's face rose completely out of the water. The visage turned vertical and hung in the air before him, its fiery hair hissing and crackling. The celebrants gasped, and the heartwarders folded their hands over their hearts. Yago merely grunted, unimpressed by what seemed to him a face too dainty to be attractive.
"Remember," said Sune. Her beautiful face dissolved into smoke and flame. "The water must be sparkling."
The temple remained as still as a painting. Never before had the goddess manifested herself at the Rite of Dreams, and Atreus could feel the gazes of the astounded celebrants on his back. Whether they had heard what passed between him and Sune he did not know, but he could tell by their stunned silence that he had become something more to them than an unpleasant joke.
"Look!"
The male heartwarder pointed into the Pool of Dreams, where a ragged parchment had appeared, floating on top of the water. On the scrap were drawn hundreds of mountains and dozens of long, snaking valleys with exotic names such as Gyatse and Yamdruk. And on the eastern edge, lying at the foot of three mountains marked the "Sisters of Serenity" was a valley called Langdarma.
Yago, who was so tall he could see over Atreus's shoulder without stepping onto the dais, peered into the Pool of dreams. "Don't tell me that's a-"
"Map!" Atreus confirmed.
Yago groaned. He could see what was coming next, and were not ones to place their faith in a piece of parchment scratched with a few lizard tracks.
Atreus snatched the map from the water and started down the steps, forgetting in his excitement to bow to Julienne. "Come on, Yago," he said. "We're going to Langdarma!"
"Langdarma?" Yago grumbled. He turned to follow Atreus down the Aisle of the Adorer. "Never heard of such a place. It's probably clear up by Arabel or something."
"Or something," Atreus agreed. He glanced down at his map. "Ever hear of the Yehimals?"
The ogre shook his head, and the celebrants began to close in around them, babbling congratulations and trying to sneak a look at the map. A few of the less squeamish even slapped Atreus's disfigured back or squeezed his round shoulder. The pair soon found themselves being swept along by a jabbering swarm of well-wishers.
Once the crowd had carried them out of earshot the assistant Heartwarders turned to Julienne.
"Do you think this will work?" asked the hazel-eyed beauty.
"Of course." Julienne's smile was small and a little heartless. "The Yehimals are far, far away, and Langdarma is difficult to find… very difficult to find."
CHAPTER 2
Three days after leaving the ship, Atreus still felt the sea rolling beneath his feet. He and Yago were standing outside the Grand Audience Hall of the Paradise Mahal on a white marble floor as firm as the bedrock of the world, swaying gently as they awaited an audience with the queen of Eden-vale. In the distance behind the palace loomed the jagged white wall of the great Yehimal Mountains, where-somewhere-the Sisters of Serenity stood watch over the valley of Langdarma.
By the way the door guards eyed them, Atreus knew that his and Yago's constant rocking made them appear drunk or worse, but they could not help themselves. They had passed most of the four-month journey from Duhlnarim to the Utter East aboard a square-rigged cog Squall Duchess, which rode the waves like a piece of flotsam. It would be some time before their legs grew accustomed to solid ground again. Atreus only hoped their unsteady stances would not prevent Queen Rosalind from providing the help they needed.
A small courtier in billowing silks emerged from the scalloped portal of the audience hall. With black hair, a thin build. and golden skin, he was obviously one of the Mar natives who had inhabited this hot and sultry land when rosalind's Faerunian ancestors arrived to claim it. He dismissed Yago's imposing bulk with a disdainful smirk, then turned to Atreus, his lip curling as he took in the polished boots, linen trousers, and silk tunic beneath a brocaded cape. When his gaze reached Atreus's disfigured face, he gasped and stepped back, speaking sharply to the guards in Marari-a strange, melodious tongue of short syllables and throaty clicks.
The guards answered in the same language, pointing across the courtyard to the gates where the hired elephant that had carried Atreus inland stood waiting with its driver. As Squall Duchess's captain had promised, the mere fact that Atreus had an ogre bodyguard and traveled in such luxury marked him as a man of consequence.
"1 have a letter of introduction from my own liege, King Korox of Erlkazar," Atreus said. From inside his cloak he withdrew a folded parchment that Heartwarder Julienne had procured from the king's sister, Princess Dijara. Atreus bowed, displaying the unbroken wax on its royal seal. "I am Atreus Eleint of Rivenshield, in Barony Ahlarkhem of Erlkazar."
Though the Mar showed no sign of understanding Atreus, he accepted the letter and examined the seal, narrowing his eyes at the royal crown pressed into the golden wax. He glanced at the golden brocades in Atreus's cape, then bowed.
"I am Jyotish, chamberlain to Queen Rosalind," said the Mar, now speaking an archaic form of Realmspeak known as Thorass. The language was so outdated and heavily accented that Atreus had to guess some words from the context of others. "I will arrange an audience with Her Radiance."
Jyotish returned the letter and stepped aside, waving Atreus toward a huge pair of mahogany doors. As they started up the stairs, the sentries quickly crossed their glaives in front of Yago. The ogre scowled, then jerked the weapons from the guards' hands and tossed them into the courtyard. The guards cried out and reached for the swords, and Jyotish whirled on Atreus. "What is the meaning of this?"