"Heaven forbid that should ever happen. We came to an understanding, that's all."
"He going to try to keep you from losing her?"
Kentril's brow furrowed.
The giant gave him a Gorst grin. "Only thing'd make you go to him is her. Only thing he's interested in is magic. Ureh vanishes, you both lose."
Even Kentril sometimes let Gorst's barbaric appearance cause him to forget why he had made the ebony—maned fighter his second in command—and his friend. "That sums it up."
"He'll do it, Kentril. He'll convince Juris Khan."
The captain grunted. "You see any sign of Zayl lately?"
"Not for a long time."
Kentril did not trust the necromancer on his own. Someone of Zayl's ilk could bring out the distrust in the most trustful of people. While he harbored no dislike for the easterner and actually found Zayl's presence more tolerable than Tsin's, Kentril worried about the other spellcaster wandering among the locals. Perhaps it was time to make certain that nothing else happened to endanger his hopes.
"I'm going for a walk, Gorst."
"Down into the city?"
"That's right. If Zayl shows up, tell him I want to talk with him."
The decision to hunt for the necromancer did not sit well at all with Kentril. He would have preferred his original plan, which had entailed telling Atanna of his success with Tsin, thereby ensuring some reward from her. Now, instead of the beauteous company of Khan's alluring daughter, he sought that of the dour, formal Zayl.
No one challenged the captain as he left the abode of Juris Khan. In fact, the armored guards stood straighter, and some even saluted him as he passed. Truly their master had given the mercenaries the run of the kingdom.
That made him think about his own men, including the pair who had not so far returned. There had been noreports of unseemly behavior, but Kentril wanted nothing to undo the good will they had gained.
The moment he touched foot at the bottom of the long, winding steps leading down from the palace and entered the city proper, Kentril found himself surrounded by merrymakers. Under the ever—present lamps and torches, women in bright, exotic garments of silk danced to the music of guitars, horns, and drums. Children laughed and ran between celebrating throngs. A table of local men hard at work on flagons of ale waved for the captain to come over, but with a smile and a shake of his head, Kentril excused himself.
There had to be people asleep somewhere in Ureh, but Captain Dumon would be damned if he could find any evidence of that. Several of those out now must have slumbered when he had, or else they surely could not have been up and about at this moment.
Some distance ahead, he spotted Orlif and Simon playing a game of dice with some of the locals. Kentril started toward them, then decided that it was unlikely that they would know where Zayl was. Both men had probably just returned to the city after some recuperation in the palace.
Leaving the duo to their entertainment, the captain wandered deeper into Ureh. Wherever he went, merriment seemed to be in full swing. The citizens of the legendary kingdom celebrated with such exuberance that Kentril found it somewhat difficult to believe that this had been the most revered, the most pious of realms. Still, he supposed that they deserved such harmless pleasure after suffering as they had.
"Are you one of the heroes?" asked a melodious voice.
Turning around, Kentril found himself facing not one but two enticingly clad young women. One wore a fanciful golden outfit that reminded him of the harems an older mercenary had described to him, while the other, blessed with the curves men desire most, smiled under long, dark lashes. Either would have at one time been a prize greater thanKentril could have ever imagined, but now, although he still found them most interesting to look at, they offered nothing he wanted. Atanna held sway over him.
"He must be," said the one with the curves. She smiled. "My name is Zorea."
"And I'm Nefriti," added the one in gold, bouncing prettily.
"My ladies," Kentril returned, bowing.
This action caused both of the women to blush and laugh lightly. "A true gentleman!" exclaimed black—tressed Zorea. She let her fingers caress his right arm. "And so strong!"
"Will you celebrate with us?" asked Nefriti, pursing her full lips as she took his left arm.
"It would honor us to honor you," said her companion. "Ureh wishes to offer you all the reward you deserve."
He carefully and politely pulled away from them. "I thank you for your kind offer, my ladies, but I'm in search of someone at the moment."
Zorea brightened. "One of your friends? I saw two strangers playing dice with some of the men."
"Yes, I saw them. I'm looking for someone else." It occurred to him that Zayl would certainly stand out among the people here. Perhaps this unexpected encounter would turn out to be of some use to him after all. "Maybe you've seen him after all? Tall, pale of skin, with eyes more like yours than mine. He would've been dressed mostly in garments of black."
"We've seen him!" chirped Nefriti. "Haven't we, Zorea?"
"Oh, yes!" she responded, her reaction almost identical to that of her friend. "We even know where he is."
"We'll take you there!"
The captain allowed himself to be guided on by the pair. He would not have thought this celebrating of much interest to the necromancer, but perhaps he had misjudged Zayl.
With great perseverance and more than a little strength, the two women pulled him along through the throngs. Zorea and Nefriti each held a hand—out of fear of becoming separated, so they claimed. The women clearly knew where they were going, expertly turning here and there and moving among the other celebrators with ease.
The crowds gradually began to thin, and as they did, Captain Dumon's suspicions arose. He had believed the women when they said that they knew Zayl's whereabouts, but the situation now resembled one far too familiar to any seasoned fighter in a strange land. The area toward which they headed looked fairly deserted. More than one mercenary had ended his career with a dagger in his back thanks to such charming decoys. A holy city Ureh might be, but Gregus Mazi had already proven that even the most devout of lands had their personal demons.
Before they could lead him any farther astray, Kentril stopped in his tracks. "You know, my ladies, I almost feel certain that my friend has left wherever you saw him last and now heads back to the palace to meet me."
"No!" gasped Nefriti. "He's just ahead."
"Not far at all," insisted Zorea, sounding like a twin of the first girl.
Kentril gently but firmly twisted free of both. "I thank the two of you for trying. The people of this kingdom have been most kind."
"No!" insisted Zorea. "This way."
Nefriti nodded. "Yes, this way."
They gripped his arms anew and with such force it brought a slight sound of startlement from the captain. He tried again to pull free, only to discover that the two women had surprisingly powerful holds.
"Let me go!" He managed to get away from Zorea, but Nefriti held on as if she were a leech.
"You must go this way. Please!" she demanded.
Kept in place by the one, Kentril risked being snared again by the second. Not trusting that a third partner—thisone probably a male wielding a well—worn knife—might not materialize at any moment, the mercenary dropped any sense of honor and swung at the oncoming Zorea.
He could just as well have struck one of the nearby walls. His fist hit her chin hard, but it proved to be Kentril who suffered from the blow. Every bone in his hand, in his arm, jarred. Pain shot through him, and he almost felt as if he had broken one or more fingers.