"Furthermore, haven't I also just shown you evidence that a caravan passed this way not more than three or four days ago? He indicated the dung-strewn trail with a stained hand. Or do you suppose all these animals were out wandering in the middle of nowhere looking for a comfortable place to shit?"
As soon as his outburst ended Badawi realized what he'd done. His nerve collapse and he fell to the ground. Forgive me, Master, he begged. He beat his head against the ground and threw dust over his head. This insignificant beetle of a slave has offended you, Master. Cut off a hand, if it pleases you. Pluck out this miserable tongue that wagged without thought when the brain became overly excited by discovery. Only spare me, Master. Spare me. And I shall serve you faithfully, content with crumbs for food and lashes for praise for so long as I live."
While Badawi begged, Giff kicked his mount forward to examine the signs.
"I hate to admit this, he said when the horse dealer was done and reduced to a weeping wreck, but the human is right. A caravan did pass this way not long ago."
Badawi wiped his eyes and blew his nose on his sleeve. You see, Master, he said, I spoke the truth. Even Giff says so. And we both know how much he hates me. I deserve it, of course, although"
"Shut up, human! Giff said. If you dare foul my name again by speaking it aloud I'll cut off your head to make a pisspot!"
Badawi bowed, trembling. Please, sir, he said. I meant no harm."
Sarn ignored the exchange. He was noting the width and depth of the trailmore of a wide road, now that he really looked at it. A road worn into the very rock from centuries of use. He stared up at the snow-capped mountains, wondering how rich a prize the caravan would make.
As if reading his thoughts, Badawi said, My guess is that it's out of Caspan, Master. He pointed northwest, roughly indicating where Caspan would be. The caravan master is no doubt heading across the Gods Divide to Walaria. He pointed south across the mountains. It's a journey of several thousand milesgoing there and back, of course. As you no doubt have already supposed, Master, no merchant would travel so far if he weren't expecting to make a handsome profit for his efforts. Seize that caravan, Master, and you will possess a fortune."
Giff had been listening closely, realizing all the horse dealer had said was true. Added to these glad tidings was another fact that delighted him even more.
He clacked his talons to catch Sarn's attention and when he had it he said, quite simply, Are we done with him now?"
Badawi gawped. What do you mean, are we done with him now?
The two demons ignored him. Actually, I really don't see any further use for him, Sarn said. We've found what King Manacia wanted, plus what we wanted. And soon as we take the caravan we can return home."
"Done with who? Badawi pressed. Who do you mean, lords?"
"You promised I could kill him, Giff pointed out.
"Do you mean me? Badawi said. Then he began to weep again. Not me, he sobbed. You can't mean me!"
Sarn pulled a huge, gem encrusted ring from a taloned hand. He tossed it to Giff, who plucked it out of the air.
"I'm buying my promise back, Sarn said. I've had to put up with him more than you. I had to pretend I didn't completely loathe him. He gnashed his fangs. It's not good for a demon's health to keep things inside that way."
"I'll do anything, Master, Badawi sobbed. Anything."
Giff growled laughter and jammed the ring on his finger. Consider the promise retrieved, he said.
Sarn kicked his mount closer to the sobbing Badawi. His steed's snout curled back in disgust at the human's smell. The beast snarled in fear, but Sarn steadied him by digging a heavy heel into his ribs.
"Look at me, human, the demon said.
"No, no, I won't look! Badawi cried, trying to scrabble away.
"I said look! Sarn roared.
Badawi sagged to the ground as if the demon's shout had been a blow. They he slowly looked up. Huge yellow eyes stared down at him. Sarn gestured and the horse dealer's body suddenly stiffened. Badawi had no will of his own, but he still had thoughts and he still had fear.
"Don't hurt me, Master, he shrieked.
"I don't intend to, human, Sarn answered. I wouldn't foul my hands with your cowardly blood. No, you shall have the death you deserve, human. The death the gods must have decreed, or the idea would not have come so quickly into my head."
"Please, Master! Badawi begged.
"Silence! Sarn shouted.
Badawi was struck dumb.
"Take this knife, Sarn said, handing over an ornate dagger. Badawi's fingers, acting against his will, stretched out and took the knife.
Sarn pointed to the ground. Dig your grave there. Make it deep, so no unsuspecting jackal will poison itself with your rotted corpse. And make it wide to contain your bloat."
Like a clockwork machine Badawi came to a crouch and started digging.
"When you're done, human, Sarn said, climb into the grave and cut your guts out. I want you to do it slowly. To cause yourself as much pain as if I were doing the cutting."
He rode off laughing.
Badawi's mind screamed, No, no, I won't do it!"
But he kept digging, gouging the hard ground with the knife, scooping up dirt and rock with bleeding fingers. He couldn't slow down, much less stop. And he knew once he did stop he'd have no choice but to carry out the rest of Sarn's sentence. As commanded, he'd take his own lifeas slowly and painfully as a spirit possessed could manage.
A mad thought came to him. It was all because of a camel. That's when his luck first left him. When he fell in love with a camel and stole her for his own.
And he thought, but she was such a pretty animal, my Sava. And white, so white…
As white as the snows on the Gods Divide.
Iraj returned to the cave several times over the next few days. He went alone, never announcing his intentions when he left or speaking about it when he returned. Although he never said what he did there, each time he emerged he seemed to stand taller, his bearing more confident and his eyes more commanding.
Safar only returned once and he also went alone. Late one night he relived the nightmare of the dancers who died in the volcanic eruption. After he calmed himself and his mind became clear he remembered something he'd found in the cave several visits ago. After checking that Iraj was asleep he went into the cave to the room with the stone shelf and old jars. In one corner was a shattered pot that had caught his interest because of all the ancient magical symbols painted on it. He'd laid out the shards on the floor in a vague attempt at reconstruction.
Safar held the torch high to get a closer look at the nearly completed puzzle. This time his interest wasn't drawn so much to the symbols, but to what the pot once represented. Which was a round jar shaped like the world with a small opening that had once held a stopper. The major features of the world had been displayed on the jar, consisting mostly of the oceans and the four turtle gods that bore the lands. Here, in the Middle Sea, was Esmirwhich in the ancient tongues meant simply the land, or the earth. To the north was Aroborus, the place of the forests. To the south was Raptor, the land of the birds. Last of all was Hadin, land of the fires. Safar studied this arrangement in greater detail, remaking the pot in his mind. On the globe Hadin was on the other side of the worlddirectly opposite Esmir.
He bent to get a closer look at the large piece of shard that contained Hadin, actually a huge chain of islands rather than a single land mass. The largest island had a picture of a cone-shaped mountain with a monster's face. The monster was breathing fire. The memory of this piece of painted pottery was what had drawn Safar into the cave. He wondered now if the large island in Hadin was the place he'd seen in his vision. If vision it was.