The Verdant Passage

by Denning, Troy

  As they kissed, the noble winced inwardly. Though Sadira had made no secret of her feelings for the famous gladiator, Agis had not expected to meet him so soon—and he was certainly not prepared to deal with the jealousy he was experiencing.

  After Sadira finally removed her lips from the mul’s, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Rikus smiled at her, then, giving Agis a wary glance, leaned close to her ear and whispered. Feeling as though he were intruding, Agis rose to his feet and looked away.

  Behind the gladiator, two women also approached from the colonnade. One was a full human almost as husky as the champion himself. She had pale, smooth skin and a full, firm shape. The other was the size of a child, with a head of wild hair and a wiry figure. Trapped between the two women was Agis’s manservant, Caro.

  “We don’t have to keep secrets from Agis,” Sadira said, taking the noble’s arm and standing between him and Rikus. “He knows all there is to know about me.”

  “Is that so?” Rikus asked, raising an eyebrow at the senator.

  Sadira smiled coyly and let the mul’s question drop. “Rikus escaped Tithian’s slave pits to warn me about Caro,” she said, turning to the senator.

  “That was very courageous,” Agis offered, uncertain as to whether he should greet the gladiator with the traditional double handclasp of the higher classes or dispense with it, as would have been appropriate with any other slave. He decided instead to wait for the mul to take the initiative. “You needn’t have troubled yourself, Rikus. We’re already aware of Caro’s treachery, and your escape comes at a most unfortunate time.”

  The mul bared his teeth. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing, I assure you,” Agis said, raising his hands reassuringly. “It’s just that Sadira is safe with me, and you would have been more use to us where you were.”

  Rikus reached out and grabbed the sorceress’s arm. “Well, now she’s safe with me,” he said. “I warn you, if you try to follow us, I’ll kill you.”

  Sadira pulled free of the mul’s grasp. “Rikus, where do you think you’re taking me?”

  The gladiator frowned. “We’re escaping,” he said. “You’re coming with Neeva and Anezka and me to the mountains.”

  “I don’t need to escape!” the half-elf said. “Agis set me free. Besides, there’s someplace he and I have to go.”

  Rikus’s face showed his disappointment. “Free?” the mul echoed, half-dazed. “He set you free, and you’re still with him?”

  Sadira squeezed the mul’s hand and rose onto her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “It’s not forever, Rikus,” she said. “I told you, he and I have someplace to go.”

  Rikus studied Agis, then returned his attention to Sadira. “We’ll come with you.”

  “Thanks for offering, but we can get along fine ourselves,” Agis said.

  “I wasn’t asking permission,” the mul insisted. “We’re going with you.”

  “Rikus has a right to go along,” Sadira said, giving Agis an imploring smile.

  “We’re going to have enough problems without Tithian’s slavehunters chasing us alongside his templars,” Agis said.

  Sadira shook her head. “What’s the difference?” she asked. “Being hunted is being hunted. Besides, it won’t hurt to have three gladiators along, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Anezka could take us to Nok, whoever he is.”

  The two women escorting Caro arrived at the gathering, putting an end to the debate. The blond, who Agis guessed to be Rikus’s well-known partner Neeva, glanced at Sadira’s grip on the mul’s hand and sighed.

  Without commenting on the affectionate hold, she turned her attention to Agis. “This belongs to you, I think,” she said, shoving the aged dwarf at him. At the same time, the halfling held out a square crystal of green olivine, and Neeva added, “He’s a thief as well as a traitor. Anezka caught him trying to slip this into his pocket.”

  Agis took the green crystal from the halfling. “This doesn’t belong to me,” he said, examining it closely.

  The noble was startled by the sound of Tithian’s voice in his ears. “How many times must I tell you to hold the crystal away from your eyes?”

  Raising an eyebrow, Agis obeyed the command. A tiny image of Tithian’s face appeared inside the crystal. As the high templar’s sharp features came into focus, his jaw slackened. “Agis?”

  The noble nodded. “Yes, Tithian. It’s me.”

  “How did you get Caro’s crystal?” Tithian asked. “You’re supposed to be trapped inside the Temple of the Ancients!”

  “We escaped, no thanks to you,” Agis said bitterly. In his peripheral vision, he could see everyone except Caro staring at him as if he were mad.

  “Didn’t I warn you that I wasn’t proposing a truce?” Tithian demanded defensively. “If you’ll recall, I did tell you to watch yourself.”

  Though Agis had to agree, he was far from pleased with his friend. “I suppose that justifies using me to hunt for the Alliance?”

  “You’re the one who involved himself in the revolt,” Tithian countered. “Don’t blame me if that causes you trouble.”

  “I suppose what you showed me about the obsidian balls and pyramid was just bait?” the senator asked.

  “No. It was real enough,” the high templar said. Though it was difficult to read facial expressions on the tiny image in the crystal, Agis thought Tithian appeared frightened. “Tell me, how did the Veiled Ones receive the news?”

  “Why should I tell you anything?” Agis demanded.

  “Because my offer still stands,” Tithian replied.

  “Forgive me if I seem skeptical.”

  “You can’t afford to dismiss me lightly,” the high templar said. “You have no idea what I’ve done on your behalf. Kalak knows about your adventures with the Veiled Alliance. If I hadn’t used you, you’d be dead by now!”

  “I’m gratified by your thoughtfulness,” Agis noted sarcastically.

  “If you have Caro’s crystal, you must know that Rikus and Neeva escaped and went to your estate to look for Sadira.” Tithian raised a single finger into view. “This is how many days it would take me to track them down. As you can see, they’re still free. I’ve kept their absence a secret and didn’t send out any trackers or cilops. I even had the guards who found their empty cell killed.”

  This last detail convinced Agis that his old friend was telling the truth, for it seemed exactly the sort of ruthless thing the high templar would do to protect a secret.

  “Whatever the Veiled Alliance wants with my gladiators is still possible,” Tithian continued. “No one knows they’re gone except me and my most trusted subordinate.”

  “That’s all very nice,” Agis replied, truly relieved that no slavehunters would be hounding them into the mountains. “But you’re still hunting down the Alliance with all your resources. Where do you stand?”

  “Wherever my footing is the most solid at a given moment,” Tithian answered frankly. “I’m trapped in the middle. If I don’t make progress against the king’s foes, Kalak will kill me. At the same time, I’m terrified of whatever he has planned for the ziggurat games.”

  “So you’d be willing to assassinate him?” Agis asked, deciding to see just how far his friend would go.

  “It can’t be done,” Tithian countered.

  “If it could?” Agis pressed.

  Inside the crystal, Tithian closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he said, “I wouldn’t prevent someone from trying.”

  Agis smiled. “That’s all I need to know,” he said, moving his hand over the crystal.

  “Wait!” Tithian shouted. The senator removed his hand, and the high templar smiled. “For me to play along with you until this attack on Kalak succeeds, I need to know the location of the third and final bone amulet inside the ziggurat.”

  “I knew we couldn’t trust you,” Agis sighed.

  “That’s hardly true,” Tithian noted. “You can trust me to take care of
myself. Just be certain that your side always offers me what I seek.” The high templar paused and tapped his chin in thought. “You’d best have Sadira let Those Who Wear the Veil know that it is in their best interest to reveal the location of the amulet. You’ll figure out how to get the information to me somehow.”

  Without offering a reply, Agis closed his fist over the green gem. The noble explained what had iust passed between him and Tithian, then returned the stone to Caro.

  “It might be best to let Tithian know about the amulets,” Sadira ventured. “I know where the three were hidden. Could you tell the high templar, Caro?” When the dwarf nodded, she quickly told him where the magical amulets had been secreted. “They weren’t very powerful anyway,” she concluded with a shrug. “Just a few wards to stall the king’s works.”

  At last Agis turned to his servant. “How long have you been Tithian’s spy?” he asked gently.

  The dwarf looked away, his withered lips quivering with fear or regret—Agis could not tell which. “Not long, only since your slaves were confiscated,” Caro said. “The high templar sent me back to you. He promised to give me my freedom after the games.”

  “And your focus?” Agis asked. “It never changed?”

  Caro shook his head. “No. Until the moment I broke it, it was to serve you and the Asticles family.”

  “Why did you give that up?” Neeva asked.

  Caro met the woman’s gaze evenly. “I would have died on the ziggurat, and I didn’t want my life to end without a taste of freedom.”

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Caro,” Agis said, a deep sense of regret welling inside his breast. “If I had realized how much your freedom meant, I would have granted it gladly.”

  Caro looked at Agis. “I don’t need your sympathy,” he said bitterly. “Just kill me and be done with it.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t be so anxious to die,” Rikus said. “Won’t you come back as a banshee?”

  The old dwarf looked at Agis, then a crooked grin crossed his lips. “That’s right,” he said, his black eyes sparkling with bitterness. “I’ll come back to haunt the Asticles estate—the site of my failure.”

  “Then it will be quite some time before we meet again, I hope,” Agis said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Rikus asked.

  “Every man is born with a desire for freedom in his breast, just as he is born with a desire for food and drink. Anyone who has ever kept slaves knows this.”

  “As does any slave,” Rikus said.

  “Depriving a man of freedom is like depriving him of food and water,” Agis said, his gaze still fixed on Caro’s withered face. “If a man has no food or water, his body dies a lingering death. If he has no freedom, it is his spirit that dies.”

  “So?” Rikus demanded. “What noble cares about his slave’s spirit or his life?”

  “I do!” Agis replied hotly, thumping his own chest. “I’ve never taken a slave’s life!”

  “Then you are a rare slaveholder,” Sadira said.

  Agis looked to the half-elf. “Perhaps, but no better than the others. Now I see that my philosophy merely made me a hypocrite. That’s why the wraith wouldn’t allow me into the Crimson Shrine.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Sadira asked, her pale eyes fixed on his.

  Agis turned to the ancient dwarf. “Caro, I have no right to ask anything of you,” he said, unfastening the purse attached to his belt. “Still, I would like you to perform one last service for the Asticles house. Go to the slaves that remain in my pens. Tell them they’re free to go or stay as they please.”

  The dwarf’s face showed his surprise. “And me?”

  “Go and enjoy your freedom.”

  Taking the purse Agis offered, the dwarf walked away without a word to his former master. As he watched Caro trudge along under the blistering sun, Agis realized how little his gesture must have meant to one who had lost his whole life to servitude. Perhaps there would be others like Caro he could save from a slave’s life; Agis let that hope assuage his stinging conscience, but only for a little while.

  THIRTEEN

  THE VERDANT PASSAGE

  “GET UP!” RIKUS CALLED, FIXING HIS STERN GAZE ON Agis. “It’s not time to rest!”

  The handsome noble looked up at the gladiator for a moment, then spoke in an even voice. “I don’t need your permission to sit,” he said, once more propping his head in his hands. “Or to do anything else.”

  They were high in the Ringing Mountains, struggling up a narrow stone terrace. On one side, a cone-shaped spire of granite loomed thousands of feet overhead, and on the other a sheer precipice plunged more than mile straight down. Below the cliff lay the Tyr Valley. Their goal lay hidden before them: the magical spear Ktandeo had mentioned to Sadira. It, of all the weapons on Athas, offered them the power to strike against the sorcerer-king.

  “We’re moving too slowly,” Rikus said, shivering in the cold mountain wind. He was wearing only his customary breechcloth and a pair of sturdy sandals, having refused Agis’s gentlemanly offer to loan him something warmer. In his hand, the mul carried the one item he had condescended to borrow, a bone axe with twin blades set side by side.

  Rikus pointed ahead to where the stone terrace ended at the edge of a deep chasm. “Where’s Anezka?” he asked. “If we lose her now, we’ll never find Nok or Sadira’s damned spear.”

  “She’ll be back,” Agis said, rubbing his temples. Though he was dressed in what Rikus considered a foppish manner—calf-high walking boots, leather breeches, and a rust-colored corselet with a matching fleece cape—the mul had to admit that at least the noble’s outfit appeared warm.

  Agis looked toward Sadira and Neeva, then added, “The women need to rest.”

  Rikus followed his gaze and saw that Sadira was a few yards behind the noble, dressed in leather pants and a fleece shawl. Somewhere in Agis’s house, she had also found a crownlike hat with a pair of stylish straps that descended along her nose and crossed beneath her cheeks like a mask. The mul had seen noblewomen dressed in similar hats, and it bothered him to see Sadira proudly imitating their inane fashions.

  Behind the half-elf came Neeva, struggling up the mountainside at a plodding but steady pace. Of course, the only clothing Agis had been able to provide for a woman of her proportions had come from his slave pens. Still, she looked comfortable enough in a pair of hemp pants and a coarse wool cloak, and she seemed completely at ease with the steel-bladed trikal in her hand. She had been absolutely delighted when Agis gave it to her as a gift, and that bothered the mul even more than Sadira’s love for her new hat. This Agis of Asticles was working too hard to make himself popular with a group of escaped slaves.

  “The women look like they’re doing better than you,” Rikus said, sneering at the noble’s weakness. “At least they’re still moving.”

  Despite his callous attitude, Rikus knew what Agis felt.

  When they had first started climbing, the companions had all noticed a certain shortness of breath and unusual weariness. As Anezka had led them higher into the mountains, this feeling had continually grown worse. Their heads throbbed with blinding pain, the mere effort of breathing racked their lungs with searing torment, and the muscles of their legs were numb with fatigue. The difference between Agis and his companions was that the noble was unaccustomed to prolonged deprivation and hardship, whereas the others had known it all their lives.

  Ignoring the mul’s barb, Agis reached into his satchel and withdrew his waterskin. It was half-empty, for the group had not come across any fresh water since entering the mountains three days ago.

  As the noble opened the neck, Rikus cried, “It’s not time to drink. Save that for later.”

  Agis sneered at the mul. “I’m carrying it. I’ll drink when I like.”

  “We’re running short on water,” Rikus growled, stepping toward the noble.

  “Our stores are far from depleted,” Agis countered. “Besides, I’ve spent
time in the desert. I can find more water when we run out.” The noble looked around at the barren mountainside surrounding them, then added, “Well, before we’re in danger of dying, anyway.” He lifted the skin to his lips again.

  The mul reached for the waterskin. “Your soft ways are going to get us killed!”

  Agis pulled the skin away. “What are you doing?”

  “Protecting us from you!” Rikus replied. He lunged for the waterskin again, this time grasping it around the open neck.

  Agis pulled in the other direction just hard enough to prevent the mul from taking it. “Rikus, if we continue this, we’re going to spill what’s left of the water,” he said, speaking in a patronizingly calm tone.

  “What are you two doing?” Sadira cried as she got close.

  Rikus ignored her. “I’m not going to let you drink it all,” he said, refusing to yield to what he perceived as a veiled threat. “I’ll pour it on the ground first.”

  Agis released the waterskin. “You’re a big enough fool to do it, aren’t you?”

  “I ought to split your skull for you,” Rikus countered.

  Unimpressed with the threat, Agis turned to Sadira. “I don’t think Rikus could have illustrated my point any better, do you?”

  “Don’t get me involved,” she said, rubbing her temples. “This is between you.”

  Neeva joined them. “If you two spent less time arguing, we’d probably be in the halfling forest by now,” she said. Rather than trying to stand next to Sadira on the narrow ledge, she stopped behind the half-elf. “Maybe what we need is a leader.”

  Rikus smiled at his fighting partner, then smirked at Agis. “Good idea,” he said, retying the neck of the waterskin. “We drink when I say.”

  The noble frowned. “Neeva said we need a leader, but I didn’t hear anyone say it should be you.”

  Rikus regarded Agis disdainfully. “Who else could it be?” he demanded. “You’re too soft.”

  Agis’s eyes flashed. “I spent more than a year learning the ways of the desert,” he said in a controlled voice. “I doubt that your background allowed for the same opportunities.”