Sadira took Agis’s hand and fled down the left side of the temple’s stairs. It appeared that the line of templars ahead of them was fairly spread out. She hoped to sneak through one of the dark places between their glowing torches.
The commander’s voice suddenly rang across the square. “They’ve changed directions!” he called. “They’re moving toward the left side of the square!”
The six templars in the square adjusted their approach accordingly.
“How can he track us from up there?” Agis asked, frustrated. “It’s as if he can smell us!”
“Not smell us, but feel us!” Sadira exclaimed, suddenly realizing how the templars had tracked them both to the Drunken Giant and through the dark caverns of UnderTyr.
“What?” Agis asked. “What do you mean?”
“Magically! He can feel where we are by using magic,” Sadira answered. “Do you still have that bronze disk you tried to give the barman?”
“Yes, right here.” He placed the token in the half-elf’s hand.
Sadira smiled in the darkness. “This is what’s leading them to us,” she said, reversing their course and leading Agis back up the stairs. If she was correct about the bronze disk, she thought it would be possible to virtually guarantee their escape.
“Caro must have slipped it into your purse before you sent him home the other day,” Sadira whispered as they reached the top of the stairs. “The templars tracked us to the Drunken Giant with it, then waited for Ktandeo to show up before springing their trap. With this little trinket to help them keep track of us, they could afford to be patient.”
On the far side of the square, the commander yelled a curse, then cried, “They’ve reversed directions! They’re heading toward the temple doors!”
The six templars in the square turned back toward the center of the shrine. Fortunately, the six men’s little detour had delayed their progress, and they were only halfway across the square.
“Dozens of men went in and out of the wineshop every day,” Agis objected. “How would the templars know which one was your contact?”
“Caro again,” Sadira answered, working her way back toward the sliver of red light where Ktandeo still held the temple door cracked open. “He was there when you bought me at Radurak’s auction. He would have been able to describe Ktandeo from that incident.”
Ahead of her, the flickering shaft of light widened as the door opened. Ktandeo stuck his head outside. “I’ll cover your escape, Sadira,” he called in a throaty rasp. In the dim red glow shining from the doorway, the sorceress saw him point his cane at the six templars in the square. “Run.”
“Wait-”
In the same instant that Sadira spoke, Ktandeo activated his cane, then called, “Groundflame!”
A glob of fluorescing green gas spewed from the cane and wafted over the center of the square. The templars stopped moving as the cloud descended in their midst. The stones began to sizzle, and the glowing haze spread out across the square like a ground fog. In the blink of an eye, it changed color to vibrant blue. There was a blinding flash, and the templars screamed once. When Sadira’s vision cleared again, the square was completely dark.
Ktandeo groaned and grasped at the door to keep from slumping to the ground. The sorceress moved to catch him, but a tremendous thunderclap reverberated off the cavern’s rocky ceiling and floor. A bolt of lighting flashed across the courtyard and slammed into the open door.
“Ktandeo!” Sadira shrieked, momentarily blinded.
As her vision cleared, the sorceress saw that the bolt had not even scorched the church door. She dared to hope Ktandeo had escaped injury, then she saw the old man’s crumpled figure lying between the double door.
Sadira rushed forward and snatched his cane from where it had fallen. As she kneeled at the old man’s side, she saw warm blood streaming from his ears and mouth. Though the lightning bolt had not even scorched the temple’s door, it had slammed the door into Ktandeo, crushing his ribs.
The sorceress slipped the cane into her master’s hand. “Will this help?” she asked. Tears began running down her cheeks and dripping onto the old man’s face.
Ktandeo pushed the cane away. “No, that wand only takes life.” He suffered a fit of violent coughing and spewed up a gob of bright red fluid. When he could finally speak again, he said, “Sadira, you must go to Nok.”
“Nok?” she asked. “Where-”
The old man grasped her wrist. “Listen! Take my cane, go to Nok in the halfling forests. Get the spear and kill Kalak. Tithian betrayed you, but the danger he showed Agis is real.”
“What about that danger?” Sadira asked. “Tell me.”
“Nok, he will-” He fell into another fit of coughing, and Sadira waited patiently for him to stop. She did not even try to suggest that the old man would survive. The lie would have been obvious to both of them, and she would not insult the man who had taught her magic that way.
When Ktandeo stopped coughing, he motioned her close to him. “You’ll learn the answer there,” he said. “There is one other thing I must tell you, Sadira.”
She leaned over to hear his final words. “Yes.”
“Be careful,” he said, gesturing toward the satchel that contained her spellbook. “If the templars hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have given that back to you. You’re walking too close to the edge. Step off, and you will fall so far you’ll never see the light again.”
With that, he gave one last cough and closed his eyes forever.
TWELVE
ASTICLES WINE
Rikus didn’t care much for Asticles wine. The pale golden color reminded him of something he’d rather not drink, and the tart, dry scent made his nose tingle. It had a thin, light taste that left him with a dry month, and after each swallow he had a thirst for something richer and sweeter. Still, compared to the fruit syrup doled out in Tithian’s slave pits, Asticles wine was at least drinkable, and it was a lot more potent than its watery appearance suggested. Besides, drinking it made the gladiator feel like he was stealing something from a nobleman, and he liked that feeling.
The big mul lifted his crystal goblet and asked, “How about some more?”
“Have all you like. My master won’t care,” replied Caro, who had introduced himself as the valet of Agis of Asticles. The wrinkled old dwarf picked up a carafe and refilled the goblets of his guests.
Rikus, Neeva, and Caro were in the western courtyard of the Asticles mansion, sitting on a pair of benches sheltered beneath a vine-covered bower. The bower stood upon a small patio-island located at the center of a deep pool. A narrow bridge ran from the island to the marble colonnade that ringed the pond, and the colonnade was in turn encircled by a granite privacy wall.
Enormous lily pads covered the surface of the pond. Round, with upturned edges, they resembled green serving trays set out to float on the water. Between the pads drifted pink-hearted blossoms with pearly white petals.
Every now and then, a flower bobbed once or twice, then Anezka’s wooly-haired head appeared as she treaded water and gulped down a few lungfuls of air. The halfling had been in the pond since they arrived, when she had astonished both Caro and her companions by stripping off her dusty clothes and jumping into the pool.
Rikus and his companions had spent the previous four days skulking about the desert, sneaking into faro orchards to ask directions of unguarded slaves. They had met with little success, for most fields were deserted, having been ravaged by scavengers or burned by marauders. On the two occasions when they had found someone, the slave had mistaken them for raiders and had run off screaming the alarm. Finally the trio of gladiators had gone to the road, where they had ambushed a templar. He had told them what they needed to know in exchange for a mercifully quick death. After the four-day ordeal, Rikus was so tired and thirsty that he would have joined Anezka in the lily pond, had he known how to swim.