Urulani stopped just in front of Drakis, her eyes fixed coolly on him though her words were aimed at Mala. “No, I tell you, little slave princess, I’d be surprised if there were a blade of grass or a stone under all the sky from the Southern Mountains to the Nordesian Coast that doesn’t know who this Drakis is by now.”
Drakis could hear Belag’s low growl rising behind him.
Urulani looked up at the manticorian warrior. “I’m not your problem, big cat. In fact, I’m here to help you all, so you might think again before you decide you’d like to try and eat me.”
Drakis drew in a breath to speak, but Mala interrupted, gripping Drakis’ arm tighter and pulling him possessively toward her. “I don’t see how you can possibly help us.”
Urulani turned her gaze on Mala for the first time and took her in through a long stare before she replied. “You may have weathered a bit on the road, princess, but your little cherry tan and cracked lips don’t hide you. I see that the Rhonas pigs still prefer to stock their households with cloud-white, dainty human slaves who can blend in so invisibly into their marble walls.” She turned her look back to Drakis. “Until that fashion changes, the Imperial hunters have no need to bother with us. We’re ‘the Forgotten Ones’ and we prefer to keep it that way. As long as we’re forgotten. . well, you’ll have a chance.”
“Why should we trust you?” Drakis asked.
“Don’t, if you’d rather not,” Urulani said with a tilt of her head. “I just happen to be the first to find you. If you like, you’re welcome to refuse my help and wait for some bounty-crazed fool or an Iblisi to find you, although I suggest that they might not present terms quite as good as I have to offer.”
Drakis shook his head and smiled. “And, uh, just what are your terms?”
Urulani took a step back and folded her arms across her chest. “Drakis. . I don’t believe in you. I was raised on the stories and the legends, and I gave up on believing in them years ago. No human is going to rise up and free us from the Rhonas oppression with a wave of his mystical fingers. The only freedom we’ll ever have will be what we take for ourselves.” Urulani shrugged. “But. .”
“But?”
“But the Clan Elders do still believe,” Urulani continued. “They sent me here to find you, hide you from the eyes of the Rhonas hunters, and bring you before the Elders to answer their questions about you.”
Drakis nodded, his hand slipping slowly from the hilt of his sword. “And if they don’t like my answers?”
Urulani looked up at the ceiling as she spoke. “You know, it’s a hard thing when you’re confronted with a legend and you discover that he’s only a man after all. The faithful who are disappointed in their gods can be so unpredictable in how they will react.”
“No,” Drakis said. “I disagree. They are entirely too predictable. Very well, but you have to. .”
“Drakis!” Mala said turning toward him. “You aren’t actually considering going with this. .”
Drakis ignored her. “But you have to take all of us. You must promise to extend your protection to all of our group, or we’ll just continue on our own way.”
Urulani nodded. “Done. Anything else?”
“One last thing.”
“Yes?”
“Tell me that your clan is to the north.”
CHAPTER 36
The mud city of the Hak’kaarin usually bustled with activity regardless of the time of day. The only exception was on the night of arrival, when most of the mud gnomes, exhausted from the day’s journey, retired to their newly occupied warrens and slept through the night, leaving only a few hundred or so of their number to keep watch over the city and keep the fires stoked until the mound could properly be brought back to exuberant life the next morning.
The enormous central space of the city was, therefore, nearly deserted as RuuKag moved with contemplative, heavy steps onto the main floor space. His great head hung down from his hunched shoulders. The field pack-completely provisioned once more-did not weigh him down nearly as much as the burdens of his soul.
The manticore looked up. The open dome of the mud city was lined with the cavelike warrens of the gnomes almost to its very summit, lit now only dimly by the flickering flames in the great central pit that had earlier been a roaring bonfire. The curling smoke rose up to the full height of the chamber, escaping through the large hole in the ceiling.
RuuKag watched the smoke for a time. The hole through which it escaped the mud city was called the Oculei by the Hak’kaarin-the Eye of God. It watched over the mud gnomes in their pursuits and, for the most part, brought light into their lives.
RuuKag chortled to himself. The Hak’kaarin repaid their god by blowing smoke into its eye. Perhaps, he mused, that was why god’s eye seemed so blind to the problems of the mortals in their care.
But then another thought came to RuuKag. The blaze of the great fire pit in the center of the mud city consumed the solid wood and sent it up to the gods. Through the Oculei he could see the stars of the night sky beyond-the very realm of the gods-welcoming the smoke and freeing it from the cares of the world.
“RuuKag-ki?”
The manticore, startled from his reveries, looked down into the face of a young gnome. By his reckoning the creature could not have seen more than twelve years in this world. “What do you want, gnome?”
The large, liquid eyes of the youth gazed up at him. “Your story, RuuKag-ki! I want to hear your story.”
The manticore shrugged his field pack higher on his shoulders. “I have business to attend! Go away.”
“You are leaving us, then?”
“Yes,” RuuKag said at once. “I mean, no! I’ve just got to go outside for a while. . I’ve just got something I have to do.”
“Not with a field pack,” the gnome replied, pointing up at the manticore’s back. “You’re leaving forever.”
“I’ve business to attend to, boy!” RuuKag said, pushing past the small gnome.
“But you have to tell me your story!” the gnome said, the urgency in his voice making it louder.
RuuKag turned in frustration. “Quiet! You want to wake the entire city!”
“Just tell me your story,” the young gnome urged. “Look! We’re right next to the storytelling cavern, and there’s no one there now.”
“I don’t want to tell you my story!” RuuKag growled.
“But you’ll be lost!” the gnome wailed.
“Quiet!” RuuKag said quickly. “What are you bellowing about?”
“Your story,” the gnome replied, his eyes tearing up. “If you don’t tell someone your story, you’ll be forgotten. No one will remember that you passed through the world. Your story will be lost, and your soul will not be recognized by the other souls in the sky!”
RuuKag looked up through the Oculei once more. The stars were looking back down on him. He felt their disapproval. “No one wants to hear my story,” he said at last.
“I do,” replied the gnome.
RuuKag sighed. He needed to get out of the mud city, and the last thing he needed was a whimpering, wailing gnome cub calling attention to what was supposed to be an unnoticed departure. “Fine! A short story and then I’ve got to leave.”
“Your story,” the young gnome insisted.
RuuKag sighed again. “Yes, my story. What’s your name little cub?”
“Jith!” the gnome replied.
“Well-Jith-where do we get this sorry tale over with?”
Jith wrapped his small, long-fingered hands around the manticore’s paw as best he could though even both hands failed to encompass it entirely. He tugged at the manticore, who dutifully followed him into a round, side cavern. In its center sat three curved benches that formed a circle. “Here, RuuKag-ki! This is the storytelling place. Sit!. . Sit! Sit! Sit!”