gash their faces during the ceremony that marks their entry into
adulthood doesn’t add very much to their appearance. The pair I was
watching were fairly typical representatives of their race. They had
broad shoulders, of course; you don’t spend most of your life
practicing swordsmanship without developing a few muscles. Aside from
those bulky shoulders though, they were fairly lean. They had swarthy
skin, prominent cheekbones, and narrow, angular eyes.
I saw immediately why Murgos risked coming down the steep ravines that
cut the escarpment. The horses they were riding weren’t very good.
“I saw a large herd from the top of the cliff,” the one called Rashag
told his companion.
“Horses or cows?” Agga asked him.
“It’s hard to say for sure. The cliffs very high and the animals were
in deep grass.”
“I didn’t come down that ravine to steal cows, Rashag. If I want a
cow, I’ll take one from the Thulls. They don’t get excited the way the
Horse People do. What did that Grolim you were talking with want?”
“What else? He was looking for somebody to butcher. His altar’s
drying out, and it needs fresh blood.”
“He didn’t look all that much like a Thullish Grolim.”
“He wasn’t. He’s a southern Grolim from Rak Cthol. Ctuchik’s got them
spread out along the top of the cliff. He doesn’t want any surprises,
and the Horse People do know about the ravines.”
“Alorns,” Agga spat.
“I hate Alorns.”
“I don’t imagine they’re very fond of us, either. The Grolim told me
to pass the word that we’re all supposed to stay out of the Wasteland
of Murgos.”
“Who’d want to go there anyway? All that’s there is black sand and
that stinking lake.”
“I’m sure Ctuchik has his reasons. He doesn’t confide in me though.
Actually, I’ve never even seen the man.”
“I have,” Agga said, shuddering.
“I had to take a message to Rak Cthol from my general, and Ctuchik
questioned me about it. He looks like a man who’s been dead for a
week.”
“What’s Rak Cthol like?”
“It’s not the sort of place you’d want to visit.”
They were almost out of earshot by now, and I decided not to follow
them. They were obviously of fairly low rank, so it wasn’t likely that
their conversation would provide any useful information. I lowered my
chin onto my paws and went back to sleep.
I did see them one more time, though. It was starting to get dark, and
I rose, arched my back, stretched, and yawned.
Then I heard horses galloping toward me. I sank back down in the grass
to watch. Rashag and Agga were coming back, and they didn’t have any
Algar horses. The only Algar horses I saw had Algars on their backs,
and they were in hot pursuit of the two fleeing Murgos. Algar horses
were –still are–much better than Murgo horses, so the outcome was
fairly predictable. Rashag and Agga didn’t make it back to Cthol
Murgos.
I waited until the Algars returned to their herd, then loped back to
the mouth of the ravine and started up. The going would have been
difficult for a horse, but wolves have toenails, so I made it to the
top before daylight. I sniffed at the air to make sure that no one was
in the vicinity, and then I went off toward the southeast and Ctuchik’s
fortress in the middle of the Wasteland of Murgos.
The mountains of southern Mishrak ac Thull and northern Cthol Murgos
are arid and rocky with hardly any vegetation to provide much in the
way of concealment, so I traveled mostly at night. Wolves see well in
the dark, but I relied primarily on my nose and my ears to warn me
whenever I came near people. Those desiccated wastes held very little
in the way of game, so a wolf might have seemed out of place there, and
would probably have attracted attention. But I wasn’t particularly
worried about the Thulls. They were an inattentive people, in the
first place, and they built large fires at night–not because it was
particularly cold at that time of year. Mainly they built fires
because Thulls are afraid of the dark.
When you get right down to it, there’s not really very much in the
world that a Thull isn’t afraid of.
Once I crossed the border into Cthol Murgos, though, I began to be more
careful. Murgos are just the opposite of Thulls. They make some show
of not being afraid of anything–even the things they should be afraid
of.
There were very few people in those mountains, however–either Thulls
or Murgos. Every so often I’d see a Murgo outpost, but I didn’t have
any trouble skirting those places.
It took me a little longer to reach the Wasteland of Murgos than it
might have if I’d been traveling through friendly territory, since I
spent quite a bit of time hiding or slinking around to stay out of
sight. I was certain that no ordinary Murgo would pay very much
attention to me, because Murgos are interested in people, not animals.
But since wolves weren’t common in the region, a Murgo who happened to
see me might mention it to the next Grolim he came across. Sometimes
the most casual remark will alert a Grolim. I didn’t want anybody to
spoil the surprise I had planned for Ctuchik.
I finally came down out of the mountains into the area colorfully known
as the Wasteland of Murgos. There was some evidence that it’d been a
large lake or even an inland sea at some time in the past. I seem to
remember that there’d been a sizable body of water lying to the west of
the Angarak city of Karnath before Torak cracked the world, and this
black-sand–floored desert had obviously been drained all at one
time.
The skeletons of large aquatic creatures dotted the sand, but the only
remnant of that ancient sea was the rancid Tarn of Cthok, some distance
to the north of Rak Cthol. I was a little concerned about the fact
that I was leaving tracks in that black sand, but the wind out there
blew most of the time, so I quit worrying about it.
I finally got within sight of the steep mountain peak that Ctuchik had
topped with his city, and I dropped to my haunches to think things over
a little bit. Wolves were not unheard of in the mountains of Cthol
Murgos and the wasteland, but a wolf padding through the streets of Rak
Cthol definitely would attract attention. I was going to need some
other disguise, and since the narrow path angling up around the peak
was certain to be patrolled and since the city gates would be guarded,
I couldn’t see any alternative but feathers.
It was late afternoon, and the heated air rising up off that black sand
would help. I went behind a pile of rocks and slipped back into my own
form. Then, after giving some consideration to the surrounding
terrain, I formed the image of a vulture in my mind and flowed into
that particular shape. I’ll grant you that there are nicer birds in
the world than vultures, but there were whole flocks of the ugly brutes
circling in the air over Ctuchik’s mountain, so at least I wouldn’t be
conspicuous.
I caught an updraft and spiraled aloft on the west side of Ctuchik’s
mountain. The sun was just going down, and its ruddy light stained
that basalt peak, making it look peculiarly as if it had been dipped in
blood.
Considering what was going on at the top of it, that was fairly
appropriate, I suppose.
I’ve made quite an issue of the fact that I don’t fly very well, but
I’m not a complete incompetent, and riding an updraft is a fairly
simple process.
All you really have to do is lock your wings and let it carry you.
Hawks and eagles and vultures do it all the time.
I circled up and up until I was above the city, and then I swooped down
and perched on the wall to look things over. At that particular time
Rak Cthol was still under construction, and it was not nearly as
cluttered as it came to be later on. It was already ugly, though. I
think that was a reflection of Ctuchik’s mind. Although it really
wasn’t necessary, he appeared to be consciously trying to duplicate the
layout of Cthol Mishrak.
The actual work of construction was being performed by slaves, of
course, since Murgos and Grolims feel they’re above that sort of thing.
I watched from my perch atop the wall as the slaves were herded into
their cells in those tunnels beneath the city and locked in for the
night. Then I patiently waited for it to get dark.
Quite obviously, I was going to need a disguise, but I was fairly sure
I could find something that’d get me by. As it turned out, it was even