Ehomba started down the mountain. The last mountain, he knew. “First there are questions we must ask of the natives. We need to find out where this Hymneth makes his home, what sort of defenses he keeps close around him. We need to see if anyone knows of the Visioness and where she is being held.”
“And the treasure,” Simna reminded him enthusiastically. “Don’t forget to ask about the treasure.”
* * * *
Ehl-Larimar was as attractive within as it had been from a distance, with luxuriant, carefully tended parks, clean streets, and a healthy and attractive populace. Yet beneath the overt prosperity and occasional opulence there was an eerie sense of ill-being, as if everyone, rich and poor alike, were suffering from some nonfatal but persistent malady.
As Ehomba had hoped, while their presence was remarked upon, it caused no unusual stir among the locals. Once they succeeded in wending their way down to the harborfront, the travelers found themselves swept up in the usual swirl of commerce and industry, just another clutch of exotics in a sea of hardworking foreigners and industrious visitors. Other than the occasional curious glance, no one paid them the least heed.
Not only did the harborfront provide the anonymity Ehomba sought, it was also among the best places in any large city to obtain information. But whenever they mentioned Hymneth the Possessed, initially cordial locals shied away in quiet terror, and even wayfarers from distant lands found hasty excuses to take themselves elsewhere.