walls to the west. To the north the River Havilthytus flows eastward and joining it from the southwest comes the River Mak. The Sacred Quarter is contained in this triangle. The black waters of the River Mak do not mingle with the ochre waters of the Havilthytus for a considerable distance downstream, and this is one of the remarkable attractions of the place to visitors.
The twin Suns of Scorpio reflected glitteringly from every projection and gable and spire as I sauntered along. People moved everywhere, idling, gaping, with many a hurrying slave slipping quickly through the throngs. And, of course, there were soldiers everywhere, here on leave before departing for any of the fronts mad Empress Thyllis had opened in her senseless wars.
Deeming it a good idea to wander along to The Blue Zhyan and discover what the inn had to offer in the way of accommodation, I reflected on the curious fact that Nath Tolfeyr had not once asked me where I had been or what I’d been up to. He must just have assumed I’d been at Paline Valley, or else serving with the army. The Blue Zhyan, in Ohmlad’s Alley, turned out to be a snug little place, angled of roof, with flowers banked around the narrow windows, and with at least two convenient trees for shinnying down and up, if, as I fully intended, I had to go on nefarious expeditions into the city. The landlord rubbed his hands, wine-stained, on his blue-striped apron and frowned and then smiled at sight of the golden deldys that appeared in my hand.
“Of course, Amak. There is a room. We are honored to have you here.”
The room was narrow, cramped, and the view looked out onto a shadowed courtyard and a blank wall above the totrix stables where those fractious six-legged saddle animals were kicking up a din anxious to be fed. I looked around, punched the bed, checked the water supply, and nodded.
“Very well, Nodgen the Apron.” That was his name, a fat and oily man showing signs of care over continuing supplies wherewith to satisfy his patrons. “I have been traveling and would rest now. See that I am not disturbed.”
“No, notor, of course not, notor.” He bowed himself out.
I flopped on the bed. If I was going flying through the city tonight I needed to catch up on my sleep. A phantasmal apparition glimmered against the paneled wall opposite the window. The spectral form wavered, and coalesced. I sat up, watchful, cautious. The arch-devil, Phu-Si-Yantong, had spied on me by sending an occult manifestation of himself to descry what I was doing. His kharrna was very great, his capacity to exert supernatural — as we believed — forces that flew in the face of nature. Khe-Hi-Bjanching, who was a Wizard of Loh as well as a friend, had set up defensive barriers against this spying. His arcane arts had been materially assisted and increased by Deb-Lu-Quienyin, who was a Wizard of Loh with a character and a history. He said, himself, that he was not as powerful in the thaumaturgical arts as Phu-Si-Yantong; but I believed Deb-Lu to be equally as powerful, if not more so. He and I had gone through enough adventures together to make me absolutely confident in him, to make me trust implicitly the old Wizard of Loh, who was a comrade and friend.
The wavering form moved as undersea fronds move in the tidal flow. The gaseous outlines thickened. The simple robes, the absence of runes, told me this was Deb-Lu, and then I saw his face, smiling at me in the old way, and I relaxed, and let out a breath.
“You look — perturbed,” he said. “I am in lupu and send my projection to talk to you. It is no new thing for you. Why does it affect you so?”
“I’ll tell you, Deb-Lu, I’ll tell you. I thought it might be that bastard—”
“Hush, majister!” The voice cracked in indisputable command. “Do not speak the name.”
I nodded. “Very well.”
“Khe-Hi-Bjanching and I have surmounted the problems strewn before us. Our communication is now clear. It was a Daunting Task.”
The twin Suns of Scorpio reflected glitteringly from every projection and gable and spire as I sauntered along. People moved everywhere, idling, gaping, with many a hurrying slave slipping quickly through the throngs. And, of course, there were soldiers everywhere, here on leave before departing for any of the fronts mad Empress Thyllis had opened in her senseless wars.
Deeming it a good idea to wander along to The Blue Zhyan and discover what the inn had to offer in the way of accommodation, I reflected on the curious fact that Nath Tolfeyr had not once asked me where I had been or what I’d been up to. He must just have assumed I’d been at Paline Valley, or else serving with the army. The Blue Zhyan, in Ohmlad’s Alley, turned out to be a snug little place, angled of roof, with flowers banked around the narrow windows, and with at least two convenient trees for shinnying down and up, if, as I fully intended, I had to go on nefarious expeditions into the city. The landlord rubbed his hands, wine-stained, on his blue-striped apron and frowned and then smiled at sight of the golden deldys that appeared in my hand.
“Of course, Amak. There is a room. We are honored to have you here.”
The room was narrow, cramped, and the view looked out onto a shadowed courtyard and a blank wall above the totrix stables where those fractious six-legged saddle animals were kicking up a din anxious to be fed. I looked around, punched the bed, checked the water supply, and nodded.
“Very well, Nodgen the Apron.” That was his name, a fat and oily man showing signs of care over continuing supplies wherewith to satisfy his patrons. “I have been traveling and would rest now. See that I am not disturbed.”
“No, notor, of course not, notor.” He bowed himself out.
I flopped on the bed. If I was going flying through the city tonight I needed to catch up on my sleep. A phantasmal apparition glimmered against the paneled wall opposite the window. The spectral form wavered, and coalesced. I sat up, watchful, cautious. The arch-devil, Phu-Si-Yantong, had spied on me by sending an occult manifestation of himself to descry what I was doing. His kharrna was very great, his capacity to exert supernatural — as we believed — forces that flew in the face of nature. Khe-Hi-Bjanching, who was a Wizard of Loh as well as a friend, had set up defensive barriers against this spying. His arcane arts had been materially assisted and increased by Deb-Lu-Quienyin, who was a Wizard of Loh with a character and a history. He said, himself, that he was not as powerful in the thaumaturgical arts as Phu-Si-Yantong; but I believed Deb-Lu to be equally as powerful, if not more so. He and I had gone through enough adventures together to make me absolutely confident in him, to make me trust implicitly the old Wizard of Loh, who was a comrade and friend.
The wavering form moved as undersea fronds move in the tidal flow. The gaseous outlines thickened. The simple robes, the absence of runes, told me this was Deb-Lu, and then I saw his face, smiling at me in the old way, and I relaxed, and let out a breath.
“You look — perturbed,” he said. “I am in lupu and send my projection to talk to you. It is no new thing for you. Why does it affect you so?”
“I’ll tell you, Deb-Lu, I’ll tell you. I thought it might be that bastard—”
“Hush, majister!” The voice cracked in indisputable command. “Do not speak the name.”
I nodded. “Very well.”
“Khe-Hi-Bjanching and I have surmounted the problems strewn before us. Our communication is now clear. It was a Daunting Task.”
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