"Thank you for seeing us on short notice, First," said Llawan, "and for accommodating our special needs."
"My home is your home, Empress," said the First, smiling. "If we cannot accommodate our allies we risk turning them into enemies."
"We were worried you would strap us to your chair when we asked Veza to set up this meeting."
"Believe me," said the First as he paced around the tank where Llawan swam in the middle of his meeting room, "the chair-and this tank-are as much for the protection of my visitors as they are for my own. Now, what may I do for you today?"
"We are concerned that the traitor Laquatas will obtain the Mirari," said Llawan, jetting to the back of the tank as the First rounded the corner.
"Which is why 1 have sent my most powerful dementia summoner and five of this world's most fearsome killers to track down the rogue barbarian and retrieve that which belongs to the Cabal," replied the First.
"We believe you underestimate the former ambassador," countered Llawan. "Laquatas deals in lies. Even when he tells the truth, it is based on some underlying lie. You may believe that mistress Braids and her snake-headed assassins are working for you. But in the end, they can do nothing but play their part in Laquatas's plot, for he has scripted it for them."
"You know much about Cabal business, Empress," said the First as he ran his hand along the outside of the tank, etching the glass with his acidic touch. "I am impressed."
The Empress swiveled around and sent a jet of ink over the tank to stream down perfectly over the First's scratches, diluting the acid. "We make it our business to follow closely the dealings of Laquatas," she said, "For example, did you know that he has somehow mobilized Order forces, which will attempt to steal the orb from your assassins before they can return with it?"
"I do keep my eye on local politics as well as troop movements, Empress," replied the First, returning to the front of the tank. "I do not believe even a garrison of Order troops could stop Braids."
"We do not share your optimism," said Llawan. "We would feel more secure about the Mirari and about our business dealings with the Cabal if you sent extra troops into the lowlands surrounding the Pardic Mountains to help Braids deal with the traitor's Order forces."
"Are you threatening the Cabal, Empress?" asked the First. "I hear those naval trade routes have become quite lucrative for the Cabal, have they not?"
The First stroked his chin thoughtfully and smiled broadly at the empress. "Yes, I believe I can spare some Cabal forces to aid in the recovery of the Mirari. I believe that would be a prudent business decision. Would any of your forces be available as well, Empress?"
"Our forces?" asked Llawan. "How would mer forces come to your aid in the middle of Otaria?"
The First walked slowly and steadily up to the tank, stopping a fraction of an inch from the glass. "Why, via your network of underground tunnels of course. Had you forgotten?"
Llawan stoically faced the gaze and proximity of the First, insulated by the glass and the seawater from the pungent odor that had made Veza ill, but she blanched at the mention of the tunnels.
Quickly recovering her royal demeanor she said, "Now it is our turn to be impressed. Unfortunately, we cannot spare any of our forces for this venture. They are needed elsewhere. That is why we have come to our friends in the Cabal for help."
"And you shall have it, Empress," said the First, backing up to his normal position at the head of the room. "You shall have it."
Balthor looked up at the crowd and called out, "Kamahl will take one more challenge today. Let's not make a mockery out of this tournament by having another mismatch. Who here feels worthy of facing the greatest Pardic warrior of all time?"
Kamahl saw Talon nod to someone off to his right, and Joha, a devout follower of Fiers and the spiritual leader of the Elite Eight, dropped off the wall and strode over to take his place opposite Kamahl.
"Face me, Kamahl, and may the strength of Fiers flow through us both."
As Balthor left the arena again, Kamahl focused on his new opponent. Joha was taller than Murk and almost as broad as Kamahl. He strode across the arena with the confidence gained from many successful battles. In his right hand he carried a lead-tipped staff made of ironwood. His short, tightly curled hair shone with sweat in the light of sun, which was now close to its zenith.
Joha twirled his staff in front of him and sidestepped around the arena as Kamahl prowled around opposite him, his sword held low in front of him. Neither warrior spoke as both concentrated on the movements of the other, waiting for the twitch that would indicate an imminent attack.
Kamahl had never fought Joha, but he had seen some of his early battles when the spiritual warrior had first challenged the Elite Eight. Like Murk, Joha liked to stay at range and pummel his opponents with fire and lightning. Unlike Murk, Joha had considerable power, a decent intellect, and little speed. As they prowled around each other, Kamahl tried to imperceptibly narrow the circle of their prowling and guide Joha toward one of the few remaining walls in the course.
But Joha must have deduced his strategy, for just as Kamahl rushed the slower warrior in an attempt to trap him against the wall, Joha sprinted in the opposite direction and let loose with a blast of fire from the end of his staff toward the very wall Kamahl was rushing toward. Unable to halt his momentum, the large barbarian slammed into the suddenly molten wall, burning the flesh on his palms, chest, and legs when he hit.
Rebounding to the side, Kamahl spun himself around and around, letting the revolving movement of his body carry him behind the wall as another blast impacted on the ground where he had stood. Cheers erupted from the crowd.
Unable to see his opponent now, Kamahl summoned a fire-cat and sent it out to the left of the wall. When the cat rounded the corner, Kamahl rolled to his right and scanned the arena for Joha. As he had hoped, the mage's attention had flashed to the firecat long enough for Kamahl to clear the barrier and lock onto him. But Joha was quicker than Kamahl had thought, and the large barbarian had to dive back behind the wall to avoid a third ball of fire.
Another cheer erupted from the crowd, but Kamahl ignored it. He sent a mental command to the firecat, which had bounded off to the corner of the arena, then he readied one spell that would turn the tide and mentally prepared another that would put Joha on the defensive.
As the firecat loped around the arena, Kamahl slammed his sword into the stone wall, sending a cascading wave of lightning across its surface. A moment later the wall exploded into shards of stone that rocketed toward Joha. Spreading out as it flew, the wall of shards was easily thirty feet across when it reached Joha. The mage threw his hands up in front of his face, interposing his staff between himself and the shards.
Most of the rocks passed by the magically shielded mage, although his legs and arms were bleeding in several places after the blast passed by. But then the firecat lunged at Joha, slamming into his side and landing on top of the warrior, who toppled to the ground. The jaws of the beast snapped at Joha's neck as he struggled to free himself from the mass of flesh and fire that lay on top of him.
As the mage worked to get his staff up in front of him, Kamahl unleashed the second spell he had been preparing. Raising his hands over his head, one hand on the blade of his sword and the other on the hilt, Kamahl looked to the sky, then dropped both hands down to his waist.
Hundreds of black, steaming chunks of coal sprang from the Mirari in an arc over the arena, spreading out in a circular pattern before falling back to the ground above Joha and the fire-cat. As the heated chunks of coal fell, they burst into flame, sending a firestorm down upon the trapped mage.