"He has certainly not taken himself from Nethosak through magical means. I think I would have been able to sense that." The high priest allowed himself a slight look of frustration. "Not that I would expect magic of a kender."
An acolyte across from the first spoke. "Holiness, there have been rumors."
"Rumors of what?"
"That a kender has been sighted in the streets. These rumors have not been verified. No trace of any such creature has been discovered-"
"But it is not the type of sighting to arise without substance." He rubbed his jaw in contemplation. "I wonder… yes… the kender would probably do that. If he's as loyal as reported, general mischief would be less likely. It's more possible he will seek to emulate his brave friend. This is good. We shall let the kender wander about."
"Master?" asked the second acolyte, not understanding.
"If the guard and our own cannot find the kender, perhaps the kender will reveal his whereabouts to us." The high priest actually smiled. "A determined kender will generally find what it seeks, and this particular one, I think, seeks his minotaur comrade. I will have notices put up, reminding all that the criminals of the state will be sent into the circus on the morrow."
"But how will this help us find the kender, Holiness?" asked the first acolyte.
The high priest grew visibly annoyed. "The kender has proven through his determination that he cares about his companion, the great minotaur warrior. He will, in his own way, seek to free the minotaur. We must see to it that he is encouraged to investigate the circus just in case he does not understand they are being held there. A way must even be left open for him, the better to trap the insipid creature. The guards at the circus must be forewarned. You, Merriq, for being so inquisitive, have volunteered to lead a group of our own people in searching the circus from top to bottom, after which you will coordinate the successful capture of this pack rat."
Merriq bowed and asked no further questions, realizing he had already pushed his luck.
The high priest rose and leaned over his desk. "I think perhaps that some of you have grown lax in your work and, perhaps, your faith. We have been entrusted from time immemorial with the heavy task of keeping the vision strong, of preaching to the masses the dream of destiny set down by Sargas when he took a few worthy ogres and transformed them into the first minotaurs. The Supreme Circle is the arm, making certain the empire functions on a physical level. The emperor is the heart, the symbol of perfection that all strive for in battle. We, however, are the soul, and that is the most important of the three. If the people lose faith in their destiny, we have failed. The arm will grow weak and the heart will cease to beat. That is why you must all be strong, determined in your tasks and belief. There can be no room for the weak."
The acolytes nodded, but remained silent.
Stepping around the desk, the high priest raised his hands high in supplication to the sky. "We stand as warriors in the circus of the soul. We must triumph, or our entire race will fall into the degeneration that befell the ogres. Merriq, you will begin the litany."
The senior acolyte bowed, then, clearing his throat, began, "We have been enslaved, but have always thrown off our shackles…"
Around him, the others repeated his words. All closed their eyes and, imitating the high priest, raised their hands skyward.
The figure on the dais lowered his hands and watched those below, satisfied that there would be no hesitation, no matter what commands he gave them. They were dedicated to the dream, though they did not know he had altered that dream. They would do anything in the name of Sargas, but in reality it was he they worshipped. He was their god, even if they did not realize it.
Before long, however, everyone would know… and by then it would be too late.
Night crept forth, but in the cells below the circus it was hard to tell the difference between darkness and light. Only the change in guards and the fact that they had been fed at least an hour before gave Kaz and his companions any notion of the late hour.
"I feel as if I've been rotting down here forever," Hecar grumbled. "If you'd not come when you did, it's very likely I'd have lost my next challenge simply to put an end to this infernal monotony."
"That's no way to talk. A warrior must always look to victory."
"This place has a way of 'sapping any such enthusiasm, Master Ganth. Trust me."
"We still have to wait a few hours more. They'll relax their guard by then. No one has ever escaped from these cells." Kaz tried to make his voice encouraging. "We will be the first."
Ganth grunted. "Maybe you'll tell me how we'll escape even if you get your wonder weapon, Lad. You won't be able to swing it too well from inside here."
"You don't know the power of Honor's Face, Father. Trust me."
"I promise not to leave your side just so you can prove me wrong." The older minotaur chuckled for a moment, then grew silent.
More time passed. Kaz spent the time twisting his wrists this way and that, trying to find the best angles for what he planned. He could succeed with such a mad plan only because of the magical axe. Any other weapon would be either too dull and blunt or too unmanageable. Only his magical battle-axe had the ability to cut through almost anything as if it were water.
He had a suspicion that Polik would be in the audience in the arena tomorrow. He knew the Polik of old well enough to know that the emperor would want to watch the death of his onetime rival personally. That suited Kaz just fine. He had learned to throw his axe great distances with surprising accuracy. After that, the minotaurs would need a new emperor… something that, in his opinion, was long overdue.
Of course, if the high priest was also present, Polik might survive after all. Kaz had a fair notion of who was the true power, and if he had only one chance to throw his axe, Jopfer would be the one.
The hallway outside suddenly resounded with the clatter of arms and the marching of feet. Beside him, Ganth stirred and Hecar, who had been slumbering, woke. They listened in consternation as guards continued through the hall.
"All corridors must be checked! All cells lit! Let no space large enough to hide a rat be left unsearched!"
"What in the name of Kiri-Jolith is going on out there?" Hecar whispered. "Why are they suddenly so active?"
"I don't know," Kaz replied, "but it's some kind of search. Maybe a prisoner has escaped." He snorted. "Couldn't have happened at a worse time."
"Maybe they'll go away soon and things'll calm down, Lad."
"Maybe." This was no ordinary search, however. It sounded as if they were stationing men as well as searching the cells.
Sure enough, the door to their cell flew open and a pair of the State Guard's men marched inside, swords ready. Each also bore a torch.
"You should've warned us you were coming, lads," called Ganth. "We would've been better prepared. Sorry there's nothing to eat or drink."
"Quiet, you!" snarled one of the newcomers. Two of them prodded at dark corners with their swords, then double-checked with their torches.
"I'd be more careful," Kaz added. "The rats don't take kindly to being disturbed."
One of the guards gave him a dark look. "The only rat we're looking for has got two legs, and we'll find him yet."
The guards retreated from the cell. The door was once more bolted shut. However, activity still continued outside.
"What in the name of infernal Sargas is going on out there, Kaz?" Hecar strained to see. The occasional head or axe went by in a blur.