“Gods!” he muttered. “Majesty! Gods!”
Skarash, she suddenly realized, might possibly be a valuable ally, if she could ever trust him at all. Centurions, pixies . . . she had not panicked. In fact she had withstood that better than he had—he looked much more scared than she felt. Nor had she roused him to a mating frenzy. Apart from a curious shaky feeling, she had come out of that quite well.
“I definitely do like you better as an imp.”
Skarash just murmured, “Gods!” again, as if bewildered by impish ways.
“Well, then, let’s go.”
He nodded dumbly, and picked up the lanterns. Inos accepted hers, and followed him across the cellar floor with her heart still thumping.
She had exorcised the pixies! She had not used some unconscious magic to drive the man mad, but neither had she panicked when he touched her. She had almost enjoyed the kiss. Not quite, though.
And in spite of what Elkarath had said—and what Aunt Kade so obviously feared—she had not been thinking of Azak.
She had been thinking of Rap.
4
Another door groaning open, and another few steps down, and yet another door. Skarash paused. “This one’s never used for storage,” he said softly. ”Except for people. We used to frighten the small fry to death in this one!”
Inos ducked through the doorway after him and then recoiled in disgust. Walls and floor gleamed wet in the lantern’s flicker, and drips fell steadily from the low roof. Azak was sitting on the bare stones, an arm raised to shield his eyes from the light. She was horrified—no bedding, no light; damp, foul air. The only furniture was a bucket; the kennel was barely big enough for him to stretch out, and a rusty metal chain connected his ankle to a staple set in the middle of the floor.
“Good morning, my love. Or is it evening?”
“Haven’t they fed you? No water? What kind of brutality is this?”
“Standard persuasion.” He uncovered his eyes cautiously and peered up at the other visitor, blinking.
“Skarash ak’Arthark ak’Elkarath, Sire.” Heedless of his expensive hose, Skarash knelt on the wet stone and bowed his head.
“Sire?” Azak filled a little word with infinite scorn.
Skarash looked up. “A true Arakkaranian, your Majesty! One of your loyal subjects!”
Where had he come from, this serious young man? The prankster had vanished, and the face in the lanterns’ glow was hard and intense. Even his voice was harsher, pure southern Zarkian.
Azak shrugged. He moved his feet and the chain rattled. “Then I suggest you demonstrate your devotion by getting me out of here.”
“I am honored, Sire!” Skarash produced the rusty key and reached for the padlock.
“Stop!” Azak barked. “I am not giving my parole to any flea-ridden camel trader!”
“Sire—”
“No! If you came to tell me to behave and promise to be a good boy, then you’re wasting your—” Azak broke off in a fit of coughing. “And the same with you,” he told Inos hoarsely.
Stubborn ox! Mule! He wouldn’t last a week in this tomb. She could feel the damp burrowing into her bones already, and he had been down here all night. Pigheaded idiot!
“Please, Sire?” Skarash begged. “One word?”
“I can spare you a few minutes, I suppose.”
“Sire, there are Imperial legions in Ullacarn—”
“There are always . . . Go on!”
Words spurted from Skarash: “Far more troops than I have ever seen, Sire! This is the tenth time I have visited Ullacarn, and I have not seen this before. I arrived not long before you did, Sire, and I haven’t had time to investigate properly, but the entire XXth Legion came in last month, and now the van of the XXXIlnd is arriving. It’s said the emir is under house arrest, and there is talk of rebellion in Garpoon and the Impire is behind it.”
“God of Torment!”
“And the IVth Fleet is in port.”
Azak looked to Inos, and then changed his mind and addressed the worried-looking Skarash. “You swear this?”
“Aye, Sire! May the Good spurn my soul!”
“Your grandfather put you up to it?”
“No, Sire. I doubt if he even knows. He hasn’t been out yet. I mean, I rode into town with the caravan. He . . . well, you know.”
Azak grunted and pulled his knees up, clattering rust flakes off his fetters. He leaned his arms on them, and then put his chin on his arms, saying nothing, staring at the lanterns.
“They’ll strike Garpoon first, won’t they?” Skarash whispered. ”Then round the coast . . . one at a time . . . city by city?”
Azak shot a glance at him. “Merchants deal in strategy now?” But there was amusement in his voice.
“Ji-Gon’s last campaign—I learned it in school. And the Widow War began that way, didn’t it?”
“Yes, it did, Master Skarash. You can’t move an army across the desert, so they always come by the coast, one way or the other. Usually from the north, but they have tried the south, too, at times.”
“And we djinns never unite until it’s too late! Why wait for them to chew us up? Get back to Arakkaran, Sire, and raise the black banner yourself, while there is still time!”
“God of Slaughter!” Azak shook his head in wonder, staring at the lanterns. “It doesn’t make sense! They can’t move supplies over the Qoble Range in winter. They might come across Thume again . . . the elves’ll never let them through Ilrane. Maybe the Keriths? They may be going to try the Keriths again!”
“I don’t know, Sire! I’m only a trader.”
Azak grunted. “They might take Garpoon now, and make their big move in the spring . . .” He groaned. “What are his terms?”
“None, your Majesty!” Skarash began twisting the key, but the lock proved stubborn. “You are released. No parole.”
“What!” Azak looked up at Inos.
Her neck was growing stiff under the low ceiling. “It’s true. He says we’re going to Hub! He has bought passage for us. We sail in three days.”
Azak grunted with astonishment and stared at her, not heeding as the lock squealed and opened. Skarash unwrapped the chain from the sultan’s ankle.
Then Azak looked down, and rubbed it. “I am grateful, Master Skarash! Mayhap we can talk later? Meanwhile, I could surely use a bath.”
“At once, Sire!” Skarash was on his feet and out the door already with a lantern. His footsteps died away, then loud hinges wailed in the distance. Azak snorted. “Didn’t wait for formal dismissal, did he? Weak on etiquette!”
“What else is he weak on? I’ve never heard him speak like that, and he was playing imp dandy all the way here.” Imp lover.
“Skarash? Bah! He’s a mimic, the man of a thousand masks. I’ve watched him trading. He’ll make a great merchant. He shows what you want to see, says what you want to hear.” Kisses you when you want to be kissed.
So Skarash could never be trusted. Did Inos have any allies at all? She took the lantern and backed out of the tiny cell. Azak followed, then straightened to his full height with a groan of relief. He rubbed his back.
Reconciliation! She said, “Azak, I did not use occult power on you! I swear it.”
He peered down at her for a moment, then shook his head sadly. “No. If you had, it would have faded, wouldn’t it? Unless you’re a full sorceress it would have gone away in the night?”
“Yes.”
“It didn’t! I am still quite hopelessly in love with you.” That, to her surprise, was a huge relief. Perhaps she also had wondered. Perhaps she was starting to return his love. Perhaps that was why he had chosen to spend the night in the cellar. She turned away quickly and headed for the stair, hoping she could find a route out of the labyrinth.
“I shall be glad to see daylight again,” Azak growled behind her. ”I don’t like caves . . . but what is this tale of sailing to the Impire?”
“I don’t know. It’s what Elkarath says. It may be just a lie, to keep us from trying to escape.”
“Or Rasha may have sold us both to Olybino. You to be puppet queen of Krasnegar, me to be returned to Zark as traitor.”
“Traitor?” She stopped and looked up at him. “You?”
His expression was bleak. “You heard Skarash. It is coming, as we suspected. Always when the Impire invades, we djinns unite and throw them out again. If we did it sooner we could keep them out, but we always do it eventually. Eventually a supreme leader raises the black banner. I am the obvious candidate.”
“Er . . . of course.”
“And if the warlock of the east has laid a loyalty spell on me?”
She nodded, horrified once again at the dark workings of sorcery. Azak might be in greater danger than she was.