"Stand aside, Dumon," the sorcerer abruptly commanded. "I shall deal with these noisy dogs."
Quov Tsin had the tip of his magical staff pointed at the gargoyle to his left. Even as he spoke, his other hand gestured over the wooden rod, causing some of the many runes inscribed in it to glow ominously.
Zayl joined Kentril. "That might not be wise, Captain Dumon."
The mercenary officer had to agree. "Don't do it, Tsin. You'll only make matters worse!"
"This from the man who so demanded my magical aid earlier?" the Vizjerei scoffed. "These beasts will not keep me out!"
Kentril quickly jumped through the entranceway, blocking Tsin. The Vizjerei stepped back but did not lower the staff.
"Get next to me," ordered the captain. "Stay close, and we might be able to avoid unnecessary trouble."
"What do you intend?"
"Just do as I said, Tsin!"
As Kentril started to moved back to the gate, Zayl confronted him. "If you insist upon this, you will need someone other than the Vizjerei to watch the second gargoyle." He held the ivory dagger steady. "I will assist you."
"I don't need any—" the wrinkled spellcaster began.
"Quiet, Tsin!" Sorcerer or not, Captain Dumon had finally had more than enough of his employer. Zayl had been able to step where Tsin could not, and that said much about both men.
With the diminutive figure between them, Kentril and the necromancer moved sideways toward the gate. The gargoyles stood fixed, simple statues of rock. No hint of their previous awakening could be seen.
Placing one foot within the palace grounds, Kentril exhaled slightly. His idea appeared to be working; with the sorcerer hidden between the two taller men, the magical guardians seemed caught unaware.
"Just a step or two more—"
As Tsin's robed form began to cross the threshold, the gargoyle before Kentril leapt to life, wings suddenly flapping, monstrous eyes glaring, and stony mouth opened in a wild, ear—splitting roar.
Behind him, Kentril heard a second, identical cry, proof enough that Zayl also faced a newly revived beast.
The beaked head came forward, snapping at an area just to the left side of the fighter. The captain's sword clanged hard against the marble maw, but the gargoyle at least withdrew. From the necromancer, Kentril heard words of some unfamiliar tongue, then a brief flash of light at the corner of his vision startled him.
The first gargoyle used his surprise to attack again, and again it tried to reach around the mercenary. It wants Tsin! Kentril realized. It's trying to avoid fighting me! It wants only him!
Fearsome talons swept by his shoulder, snatching at the small sorcerer. The Vizjerei batted at them with the staff, sparks flashing whenever the wooden rod touched stone.
"Tsin!" Kentril shouted. "Now's your chance! Jump—"
At that moment, the flute music began again, seeming to come from everywhere at once. Kentril clamped his mouth shut, wondering what the return of the haunting melody portended.
The music had a startling effect on the gargoyles. The one before the leader of the mercenaries paused in mid—attack, then peered up at the sky. It squawked once, then quickly repositioned itself as the party had first seen it. As Kentril watched, all semblance of life swiftly vanished, the guardian once more simply a sentinel of stone.
"Incredible…" he heard Zayl remark. Twisting, Kentrilsaw that the necromancer's monstrous foe had also returned to its original state.
There could be no question but that the music had given them this reprieve, and the captain intended to make good use of that sudden luck. "Move it, Tsin!"
The Vizjerei needed no encouragement. Already he had one foot on the inner yard of the ancient palace, and by the time Kentril and Zayl turned to follow, Quov Tsin stood waiting for them some distance inside.
And still the music played…
"It comes from inside," insisted the Vizjerei, now very eager to enter. "Follow me!"
A chuckle escaped from the vicinity of Zayl. "Brave man, indeed, I say, to go where he's clearly not wanted!"
Kentril glanced at the necromancer, but Zayl acted as if he had not spoken, and the captain had to admit that the voice had not sounded like his. Nor had it sounded like any of the men under Kentril's command.
No one else seemed to have noticed the voice, though. Albord and the others awaited his orders. Tsin already had a good start on the rest of the party, and for some reason, Kentril did not want the Vizjerei getting too far away. Something told him that he should keep an eye on the short, arrogant figure. The gargoyles had been placed at the entrance for a reason, and they had reacted only to Tsin—not Zayl, as one might have expected. That did not bode well.
Guided by the flute, the party reached the entrance, a high, arched opening with two bronze doors upon which had been sculpted sword—wielding archangels. Curiously, the images looked badly battered while everything else appeared untouched.
With the tip of his staff, Quov Tsin pushed at one of the doors. Like the gate, it swung open in silence. With all the confidence of one returning to his own home, the Vizjerei marched inside.
Marble columns three stories tall flanked a magnificenthall illuminated by a massive chandelier that the captain estimated held more than a hundred lit candles. The floor consisted entirely of skillfully crafted mosaic patterns of fanciful animals such as dragons and chimaera—something of a contrast to the archangels, Kentril thought. Between the two series of columns, portraits of imposing figures in robes of state no doubt gave homage to those who had ruled Ureh over the centuries.
At the end of the corridor, another set of doors awaited them. Making their way past the staring visages of lords long dead, the party paused there, everyone quite aware that the music seemed now to be coming from within. Once again, archangels with swords adorned the entrance, and once again, the figures had been battered hard. Tsin reached for the doors, but this time they would not open for him. When Zayl, too, tried, he met with no better success.
Kentril stepped up next to the two spellcasters. "Maybe there's a lock or a—"
He had been about to touch one of the ruined images when suddenly both doors swung wide open. The trio backed away as a rush of cold air swept out from the darkened chamber before them.
At first, they saw nothing, but then the music drew their gazes to the very back of the room, where they could faintly make out a dim lamp… and, seated next to it in a high—backed chair, an elderly man in robes of white.
He leaned forward, as if not noticing their coming. Kentril's eyes adjusted enough to see that a slim, hooded figure sat upon the floor before the elder, a figure with a flute held up to where the lips would have been.
"More ghosts…" Albord muttered.
Although he had spoken only in whispers, the two within reacted as if the chandelier had suddenly fallen whole from the ceiling, loudly smashing to fragments on the marble floor. The hooded form ceased playing, then rose and slipped into the darkness with one gracefulmovement. The robed patriarch glanced up and, to everyone's surprise, greeted them as if having waited all this time for their arrival.
"You have come at last, friends," he announced in a soft voice that yet seemed to carry the strength of an army in it.
Never one to stand on ceremony save where it concerned his own magnificence, the Vizjerei tapped the staff once on the floor and declared, "I am Quov Tsin! Sorcerer of the Innermost Circle, Brother of the High Initiate, Master of—"
"I know who you are," the elder responded solemnly. He looked at Kentril and the others, and even though a vast distance stretched between them, the captain felt as if he stood immediately in front of the former, every thought and emotion revealed. "I know who all of you are, my friends."