Faces of Deception

by Troy Denning

  “Then how very fortunate it is that I am standing here,” said Rishi. “My affairs in the ginger business—”

  “At the moment, Rishi, we are not interested in your ginger,” said Rosalind, cutting off the Mar. “But we will be in a better position to help our explorer if he cares to tell us what he is seeking. Unless, of course, it is a secret.”

  The queen fixed her eyes on Atreus’s view hole and waited, leaving no doubt in his mind that the help he received would come in direct proportion to his candor.

  “I am happy to name my goal,” Atreus said. “I am searching for three peaks called the Sisters of Serenity.”

  “My goodness, what a happy coincidence!” exclaimed Rishi. “By a great good fortune, it happens I passed there just last—”

  Scowling, the queen filled the air with an angry torrent of short syllables and guttural clicks, chastising the Mar in his own language.

  Rishi gasped at the rebuke. “Oh no, I would not want that, Most Radiant Queen! I am so sorry of the mistake and from this moment onward shall say nothing more. It is not necessary to trouble the Royal Husband, as no harm was meant or intended or expected, and I will be forever silent until you again give me leave to speak. I was only trying to be helpful, as I have journeyed into those same mountains a hundred times and would happily spare your Brilliance the trouble of seeking a guide for our esteemed—”

  Atreus heard the siss of a dagger blade clearing its sheath. The Royal Husband growled, “Rishi!”

  The little Mar fell instantly silent.

  Rosalind spoke to Atreus. “Tell me, explorer, are the Sisters of Serenity to be your final destination?”

  Atreus could tell by the way she asked that the queen knew the answer. “No, I am seeking the Valley of Langdarma.”

  The answer drew a chorus of snickering from the Ffolk on the dais, though the Mar remained silent.

  The queen looked past Atreus and said in perfect Thorass, “That’s enough! I will not have an envoy from a foreign kingdom laughed at in my court!” The sniggering died away, then she spoke again to Atreus in modern Realmspeak. “I wonder, explorer, if you would be kind enough to take the shirt off your head.”

  Atreus hesitated, recalling how the simple effort of accepting a letter had caused the queen’s hand to tremble. “I am happy to grant any request you make of me, but I must warn you, the Mar claim I have the face of Ysdar.”

  “Most certainly!” added Jyotish. “It would be better for all if you did not look on it, Most Radiant.”

  “There is no need for concern, Jyotish,” said Rosalind. “If the explorer were truly as ugly as Ysdar, would you be here to warn me off?”

  Jyotish nodded. “Of course, Most Radiant. Not even Ysdar could make me crazy enough to leave your service.”

  Rosalind laughed, then gestured to Atreus. “You may remove the shirt, explorer. Forewarned is fair-armed. I doubt the shock will kill me.”

  “As you wish.”

  Atreus bowed his head and pulled the shirt off, returning it Rishi. He gave the queen a moment to grow accustomed to the misshapen contours of his ungainly skull, then raised his chin slowly, allowing her ample time to brace herself as each disfigured feature grew visible. When his head had risen high enough for him to observe her mouth, he saw that she had pasted a charitable smile on her lips. The smile wavered occasionally as the rest of his face came into view, but it never vanished entirely, not even when she found herself struggling to gaze into both of his cocked eyes at once.

  “There,” she said, though Atreus knew she was speaking more to herself than him. “That isn’t so bad.”

  “Majesty, it’s better not to make light of it,” said Atreus. “I know what I look like, and pretending otherwise only makes us both uncomfortable.”

  At once, a look of great weariness replaced Rosalind’s smile. “I am so glad to hear you say that, Atreus. It makes it easier to tell you what I must.”

  Atreus nodded, well-accustomed to seeing doors close because of his looks. “I understand. If you can’t help me, King Korox will take no offense.”

  “I can help you, explorer,” said Rosalind. Atreus’s head snapped up, and the queen’s eyes grew soft. “But I fear it is not the aid you seek.”

  “I would be most grateful for whatever you can do.”

  “I hope that will be true when I have said what I must.”

  The queen turned away, looking out the window across the rooftops of her city. In the distance, floating on a cloud of hazy green hills, stood the soaring wall of white-capped peaks toward which Atreus had been traveling for more than four months.

  “The Yehimal Mountains are a mysterious and vast place,” said Queen Rosalind. “There are many legends about what can be found in them. Diamonds as large as mountains, rivers that run yellow with gold, valleys filled with heavenly beauty … perhaps those legends are even true, but it does not matter. Those who seek such places never return except as jabbering lunatics, too crippled and mad to make sense of what they say. The Mar claim it is because Ysdar still roams the wilderness, preying on those foolish enough to trek where they don’t belong. We Ffolk have another explanation. We know that these places exist only in the minds of those who seek them.”

  Rosalind turned away from her window but could not quite bring herself to look upon Atreus again. “You see, there is only one way I can help you, and that is by sending you back to King Korox sane and sound.”

  “But Langdarma does exist,” Atreus insisted, growing concerned. “I have it on the … highest authority.”

  The queen began to look impatient. “What authority could possibly be higher than my own?”

  “Only that of a goddess … my goddess, Sune Firehair.” Atreus’s reply drew a gentle murmur of laughter, and this time Rosalind made no attempt to silence the mirth. “Sune herself commanded me to seek the valley. I am to return with a vial of—”

  “Your goddess is not worshiped in the Yehimals,” Rosalind said. “She is barely remembered here in Edenvale, and so it is impossible that she knows of Langdarma.”

  “Then who gave me this?”

  Atreus reached into his cape and withdrew the map he had received in Duhlnarim, so worn from folding and unfolding that it was beginning to tear along the creases. He unfolded the map and laid it on the queen’s lap.

  “As you can see, it is a map to Langdarma,” he said. “All I ask is a guide to help me find the Sisters of Serenity, or, failing that, the best instructions you can offer.”

  Rosalind studied the map, her eyes silently scanning the names of the mountains and valleys. After a few moments, she looked up and sadly shook her head.

  “I am sorry. Someone has deceived you. I do not recognize any of the names on this map. The Sisters of Serenity are as much a myth as Langdarma itself.”

  “Begging your pardon, Most Radiant Majesty, but perhaps that is not so,” interrupted Rishi. He turned to Atreus. “As I have said, I visited these Sisters only last year in the company of a—”

  “Silence!” commanded the Royal Husband. “Were you not warned?”

  The Royal Husband glanced at Rosalind. When she nodded, he signaled to two guards, who snatched up the Mar as quick as a snake and carried him to the windows beyond the queen’s bed.

  “Please, please—no!” Rishi flailed about madly, kicking and writhing like a cobra in the claws of a mongoose. “Have mercy, good sirs! Do you think I am a bird? I cannot fly!”

  Without replying, the guards hefted Rishi through the window and stepped back. The Mar’s loud scream quickly faded, then ceased altogether. Atreus found himself staring slack-jawed out the window, wondering at the harshness of the queen’s punishment.

  The Royal Husband grimaced at the sight of Atreus’s gaping mouth. “There’s a roof outside that slants down to the moat,” he explained. “The Mar will be fine.”

  “Which is more than we shall be able to say for you, explorer, if you insist on this search,” said Rosalind.

  “Langdarma
is real,” Atreus replied. “I myself saw Sune’s face in the Pool of Dreams, but it is clear you cannot help me. If you will return my map, I will trouble you no more.”

  He extended a hand, but Rosalind jerked the map away.

  “I fear I cannot permit what you wish,” she said. “What would King Korox say if I allowed any harm to come to a ‘particular friend’ of his?”

  An angry knot formed in Atreus’s stomach, but he forced himself to answer in an even voice. “As I have said, he will take no offense if you can’t help me.”

  “But as I have said, I can help you.” Rosalind nodded and her guards seized Atreus by the arms. She turned to the Royal Husband and passed him the map. “Dispose of that and have an honor guard take this ‘explorer’ back to the Doegan Shores. They are to place him on the next ship to the Sword Coast”

  “A wise decision.” The Royal Husband wadded Sune’s map into a ball and pitched it out the window. “The last thing we need is this Atreus Eleint sneaking around the Yehimals. The Mar will think he is Ysdar himself!”

  3

  The avenue was cramped and crooked and crowded. The smell of spice—ginger and cinnamon and curry—masked the stench of the refuse spoiling in the gutters, and the din of jabbering voices filled the air with a constant drone as loud as it was maddening. High tenement buildings loomed along both sides of the street, their battered awnings and rickety second-story verandahs grazing the elephant’s flanks as it ambled past. On many of the balconies stood hissing Mar, hurling small sticks at the poor beast and clapping their hands to drive its passenger from the city.

  Atreus feigned indifference to their insults and kept his gaze fixed to the front. He was sitting in the crowded howdah on the elephant’s back, with two Ffolk guards kneeling on the floor behind him. There were also a dozen riders struggling to clear the street ahead and another dozen riders bringing up the rear with Yago. Although the soldiers were dressed in the ceremonial livery of an honor guard, their surly bearing and wary watchfulness made plain that the only thing they were guarding against was Atreus’s escape.

  Atreus fought to hold his growing anger in check. As betrayed and insulted as he felt by Queen Rosalind’s decision, he would gain nothing by venting his rage now. Better to wait a few days, until his escorts’ horses began to suffer in the hot muggy terrain of Doegan, then escape to another of the Five Kingdoms. Edenvale was not the only realm bordering the Yehimals, and he had heard a person with money could buy anything in Konigheim.

  A pair of teak window shutters slammed open beside the howdah, revealing the murky interior of a second-story apartment Atreus glimpsed what looked like a curved yellow dagger whirling out of the darkness, then cried out and raised his arm. Something soft struck his wrist and fell to the floor.

  The two guards in the howdah rose and turned toward the window, directing their fellows below into the building. Yago roared in alarm and began to bull his way past his escorts, raising a great clamor of clanging armor and whinnying horses. Atreus looked down and found a banana lying at his feet. Scratched into the peel was a brief message: “Be ready.” He glanced into the window and saw a plump silhouette retreating into the darkness, then snatched the banana off the floor.

  Atreus looked back to see Yago, separated from the elephant by four double ranks of riders, shoving a startled horse out of his way. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he shouted. Atreus displayed the banana, then quickly peeled it and tossed the skin out of the howdah. “It’s only a banana, Yago. Go back to your place.”

  Yago furrowed his heavy brow in puzzlement, then turned to scowl at the nearest rider. “You call that guardin’?” He pointed a dagger-length finger at the banana in Atreus’s hand. “That coulda been a knife!”

  “But it wasn’t,” Atreus said. “So let’s not worry about it.”

  He turned forward again and passed the banana to his elephant driver. “For Sunreet.”

  “You are too kind, Sahib,” the driver replied, eating the banana himself. “She thanks you very much.”

  The guards guffawed loudly and called their fellows off. The procession resumed its slow pace down the street. Atreus sat back and tried not to look obvious as he scanned the verandahs and windows ahead. He could not imagine who had sent the message. Even if Rishi Saubhari had weathered his plunge into the moat, he hardly seemed likely to have the means to overpower two dozen of the queen’s horsemen. That left only an unknown Ffolk nobleman, no doubt eager to use Atreus’s hideous face in some intrigue that had less to do with finding Langdarma than unseating a sickly queen.

  The procession twined its way through the streets for another ten minutes until the remnants of a gatehouse and wall appeared fifty paces ahead. Built entirely of white marble, the “Pearl Curtain” had once enclosed the entire city, but the fortifications had been razed during the Bloodforge Wars and never rebuilt. Now the ruins served only to mark the official city limit. Beyond them, the tenement buildings grew smaller and less closely packed, finally giving way to crop fields, then grazing lands, and eventually a lush forest.

  The forest would be an ideal place for an ambush, and Atreus was debating the wisdom of using the confusion to escape when a string of sharp cracks echoed through the street. Atreus dropped his gaze and saw bursts of light flashing around the hooves of the horses ahead. Several of the beasts whinnied and reared, bringing the whole procession to a sudden halt and dumping their riders into the clouds of smoke swirling about the street.

  Sunreet raised her trunk and let out a shrill trumpet. The Mar in the street began to jabber in unintelligible hysteria. The two guards behind Atreus shouldered their way forward and kneeled in the front of the howdah.

  “Shou powder,” observed one.

  “Expensive,” said the other. “Too expensive for this.”

  Atreus glanced to the side and found himself looking across a dilapidated balcony, to where a shadowy Mar stood waving at him from inside a dark doorway. Atreus made no move to leave the howdah, preferring his own plan of escape to becoming involved in some traitor’s plot against Queen Rosalind.

  The Mar stepped into the light, revealing himself to be Rishi Saubhari. “Good sir, what are you waiting for?” Rishi asked. “I thought you wanted to see the Sisters of Serenity!”

  The two howdah guards spun around.

  “Do you know what you’re about, wog?” demanded one. “We’re on the queen’s business here.”

  The other placed a foot on the howdah’s rail, gathering himself to leap onto the balcony. “You’ll answer to Her Radiance’s jailer for this!”

  Rishi ignored them both and slipped a hand inside his cloak. “We can still find Langdarma,” he said, withdrawing a wad of soggy parchment. “I have your map!”

  Though Atreus had long ago memorized every feature of the map, seeing it again overcame any reservations he had about accepting Rishi’s help. As a gift from Sune herself, the map possessed a worth far in excess of the symbols written on it. He stood and shoved the first guard out of the howdah onto the elephant’s shoulders, then grabbed the other by the belt and jerked him back inside. The fellow landed heavily on the floor, and Atreus knocked him unconscious with a big-knuckled fist to the hinge of the jaw.

  A clamorous uproar arose behind the elephant. Yago, looming a full head above the riders surrounding him, began to fight his way forward, shouldering men from their saddles and shoving horses off their feet. Seeing that the ogre was about to lose his temper, Atreus pointed into the tenement building where Rishi stood waiting.

  “Yago, kill no one!” he ordered. “Meet me inside.”

  The ogre nodded, then punched a horse unconscious and stepped over its fallen bulk, heading for the nearest door. Atreus sighed in relief. The last thing he needed was to anger Queen Rosalind by killing one of her guards. He grabbed the smallest cargo basket from the back of the howdah.

  “What are you doing?” Rishi cried. “My profuse apologies, but we have no time for luggage!”

  “We have
time for one!” The basket was heavy, and Atreus groaned as he tossed it across the small chasm to the verandah. “Catch!”

  The basket struck Rishi square in the chest, driving him back through the doorway and onto the floor of the darkened room. Atreus stepped onto the rail to follow his basket across, but by then the first guard had clambered back into the howdah and grabbed hold of his leg.

  Atreus jumped anyway, dragging his attacker along and catching hold of the verandah’s balustrade. The guard swung like a pendulum and smashed into one of the horsemen who had ridden forward to stop the escape. When the fellow did not immediately drop off, Atreus simply pulled him along onto the balcony. Atreus was as strong as he was ugly—anyone raised by ogres had to be—and he hardly noticed the extra weight.

  As Atreus tumbled over the balustrade, he twisted around and landed on his back. He sat up and drew his fist back to strike, then realized he could not hit his attacker in the face. The man was ruggedly handsome, with a square jaw and flat high cheeks, and it would have been an affront to Sune to ruin his good looks.

  Taking advantage of the delay, the guard pulled his dagger and pushed the tip under Atreus’s chin. “Don’t move!”

  Atreus grabbed his foe’s knife hand and twisted against the thumb. The guard screamed and dropped the dagger. Atreus continued to twist, rolling the man onto his back, then spun onto his knees and gathered the fellow up and pitched him back into the howdah. Behind the elephant, a tangle of soldiers and horses lay in Yago’s wake, struggling to unsnarl itself. The ogre himself was nowhere in sight, but the muffled crashes coming from the floor below left no doubt that he had made his way into the building.

  By now, three more guards had clambered onto the verandah. They were advancing from both sides, eyeing Atreus warily and reaching for their swords. He slipped toward the pair on his right, slapping down the leader’s sword and simultaneously launching a side-thrust kick at the second man in line. The blow caught the guard square in the chest, launching him off the verandah and down into the tangle of men and horses below.