Once the longboat was secured at the wharf, Averon led the group off the pier, plunging ahead into the Lacynos streets.
"Shouldn't we get directions to Attat's?" Maq called from behind.
"Don't worry, I know the way," Averon called back, "just one of the many points on which I can be of service to you, Maquesta." Averon followed that remark with a joking aside to Melas which Maq could not hear. His bold assertion of the status conferred by close friendship offended Maq and steeled her determination to reveal him.
Attat's palace, it turned out, lay a good distance from the waterfront, a distance made greater by the fact that there was no direct way to get there through Lacynos's haphazard streets. The great majority of minotaur dwellings resembled the buildings Maq had been in earlier in the day-ramshackle, with ladders instead of stairs, never more than two stories high. A few of the very wealthiest nobles, however, had more elaborate homes. Maq had heard of the palace of Chot Es-Kalin, the self-proclaimed ruler of Lacynos, a veritable city within the city. Nonetheless, she was not prepared for Attat's palace.
Though still within the city walls, it sat surrounded by its own immense stone wall, which Maq judged to be at least twenty feet in height. Two massive minotaur guards clad in leather greaves and bronze chest pieces stood at the front gate, blocking their entrance. Each was armed with a bardiche, a long polearm with a curved, axelike blade on the end. It gleamed wickedly in the sun. Melas tried telling the guards what they wanted, but the minotaurs apparently did not speak the common human tongue. Vartan, it turned out, spoke some of the minotaur's language and was able to make their intentions clear. He smiled mischievously at Maq when it was obvious the minotaurs could comprehend what he was saying. The guards summoned a wretched-looking human slave, who went off and returned shortly with the message that Melas and the others could enter.
Melas led the way across a dusty courtyard, empty except for more armed guards, similarly dressed and equally as heavily armored as those at the gate. Maquesta wondered if there were likely other guards they could not see. Cautious, the group made its way to a pair of towering wooden doors inlaid with hammered silver, minotaurs' preferred precious metal. Maq was surprised at the doors' workmanship, which could have stood alongside the finest anywhere in Krynn. As she studied the panels, they swung open silently on well-oiled hinges-even before Melas could knock. The group entered a small anteway that gave onto a second entrance flanked by elaborately carved wooden columns. Two more guards, wearing breastplates made of steel, stood aside to allow them to pass into the palace's great hall.
Intended to impress as well as intimidate, the hall succeeded at both. Maq sensed the awe and trepidation in the other crewmembers, seasoned adventurers all, and felt it herself. Three times as long as it was wide, the hall extended nearly the length of the Perechon. Its upper reaches were hidden in shadows. Massive stone columns of polished granite marched down both sides of the room. Beyond them stood gloomy alcoves, some of which appeared to lead to other sections of the palace.
At the far end was a broad, richly carpeted dais on which the minotaur lord sat in an imposing, carved wooden armchair. He was surrounded by guards, several of whom snorted as Melas and his associates drew near. Spread-eagled between two smaller columns behind the chair hung the golden-scaled skin of some large, winged creature Maq didn't recognize. The scales twinkled softly and warmly in the light that entered the room through a wall of windows behind the dais. That light was augmented by wall torches that burned even now, in the middle of the day. The windows opened on to what looked to be a well-landscaped garden filled with plants, statues, and colorful birds.
In addition to Attat, his guards, and a few slaves, the great hall held a menagerie of fantastic creatures, each chained to one of the columns. A number of them Maq didn't recognize, but some she did. A griffon was chained directly across from a hippogriff-a cross between an eagle and a horse, which was the natural prey of griffons. Their proximity caused each constant agitation, an apparent source of amusement to Attat. An ice bear with startling white fur strained against its chain, occasionally emitting a growl of frustration. The distorted physique of a Gurik Cha'ahl goblin crouched near the base of one column, drooling and gibbering. The eyes of a mottled green, froglike creature bulged, and its tongue flicked out as they passed. "Bullywug," whispered Hvel at Maq's side. "Meat-eater."
Maq shivered. The osquip she and Lendle had seen a minotaur leading a few days ago was no doubt destined for here. It would have been chained to one of these columns, she suspected-had its escort not sliced off its head.
The lord kept his eyes on them from the instant they entered the room, almost as if he were measuring them up as potential additions to his private zoo. Now that she stood before him, Maq's eyes opened wide, and she took in a great gulp of air. She realized that this was the very same minotaur she and Lendle had seen at the waterfront the day before the race, the one who had made short work of the osquip. They had passed by Lord Attat himself, never knowing he held the Perechon in his hands as tightly as he held the chain about the unfortunate beast's neck. In addition to the jeweled girdle he had worn the other day, Attat now sported silver wristbands and a collar studded with large gems-any one of which likely could have purchased a ship the size of the Perechon.
"How do you like my pets?" He addressed the humans in the common tongue, his voice deep, but not as guttural as Maq was used to hearing from minotaurs.
"I don't imagine they're too affectionate," Melas observed drily, stepping forward while the others hung back.
Maquesta watched her father and Attat closely. This lord obviously required his measure of recognition, but it was not in Melas's nature to pay tribute lightly. Maq hoped her father would keep himself in check.
"True, but I derive other pleasures from them. And the guests in my dungeon seem to enjoy them immensely," Attat replied with a silkily dangerous insinuation.
"I am Melas Kar-Thon and-"
"I know who you are, human," Attat interrupted. "The famous sea captain, master of the oh-so-swift Perechon." He made it sound close to an insult. "I have been expecting you."
Melas looked surprised.
"You made no attempt to hide your procession to my humble abode," Attat explained. "And I am not without friends in this port who keep me informed of matters of interest to me." His eyes closed to slits, and he glanced briefly at Maquesta.
Toadies and spies, you mean.
For an instant, Maq feared she had lost her mind and spoken those words out loud, so strongly did she feel that they had been heard. But no. The lack of any reaction from those around her indicated she had kept her opinion of Attat's "friends" to herself.
"You saved me a trip, Melas Kar-Thon," Attat continued. "I had planned to visit the Perechon later today and claim what is mine."
Maq saw Vartan and Hvel, who were standing directly behind Melas, exchange surprised glances. She motioned them to be quiet. The minotaur's nostrils flared. He appeared to enjoy playing with them. Her hopes for a happy resolution to the question of remaining with the Perechon began to slip away.
"I hope to convince you otherwise. I have a business proposition for you," Melas responded.
"How interesting," Attat murmured. "So many propositions to consider, so little time."