The Questing Game

by James Galloway

  Allia reached up and grabbed his clenched fist, placing her slender four-fingered hand atop it, then pulled it back down to his side slowly. She gave him a knowing look, understanding his anger. She knew him so well, there was nothing he could hide from her. She could see the outrage in his eyes, but there was no reassurance within her own.

  "We are not here to overthrow Arak, my friends," Dolanna said seriously. "We are here for only one reason. And when we find the Book of Ages, we will leave. Remember, it is not our place to pass judgement on the culture the Arakites have created for themselves. We are visitors, nothing more. Now, I believe that Renoit would be appreciative if we helped the circus prepare to disembark. And Phandebrass needs to prepare Sarraya's medallion. So, everyone, do what you can to help, and then get some rest. We will have little time for it once we are in Dala Yar Arak."

  They broke up at that point, but Tarrin chased down Dolanna before she could get too far away. He put a paw on her shoulder and stopped her, then turned her around to face him. She looked up at him with those pretty eyes, but he could see the pain she was hiding behind them. "What is it, dear one?" she asked with a slight smile. A feigned smile.

  "Why no questions about how I feel?" he asked.

  "I spoke with Allia. She told me everything I needed to know."

  "How do you feel, Dolanna?" he asked pointedly. "I've known you and Faalken longer than any of the others. You were the ones that started all this mess with me. I know you knew him much longer than I did. So, for once, you tell me how you feel."

  Wordlessly, she leaned against him and put her arms up against his chest, putting her cheek against him. He enfolded her in his large arms, swallowing up the small woman. She was so small, so frail looking. She barely came up to his chest. But she was a woman he thought at times was absolutely invincible, a powerful Sorceress with an exceptional wisdom that had helped him grow and mature, had guided them in ways that no other could. It was strange, nearly bizarre, to see her upset. She had comforted him many times when he was upset, uncertain, afraid. It was only fair to return some of her kindness.

  "Me too, Dolanna. Me too," he said quietly.

  This was it.

  Tarrin stood at the bow of Dancer a short time before dawn, as light just began to stain the horizon to herald the approach of the sun, staring out at what had to be the strangest sight he had ever seen.

  To the few sailors and lookouts on duty, it was probably murky, indistinct, but his night-sighted eyes revealed the terrible splendor of Dala Yar Arak, the largest city in the world.

  To say it dominated the land was an understatement. It was the land, much like Dayisè had expanded to cover all of its islands, stretching from the left to the right, horizon to horizon. Nothing but buildings, buildings, and more buildings, as far as he could see. The peninsula upon which the city was situated rose up gently from the sea, showing more than the warehouses and larger buildings surrounding the docks. The city was dominated by curious squared, flat-roofed houses and other buildings, and from them rose the larger, grander constructions. There were many odd bulbous towers, towers with large radish-shaped domes atop them. Every large building had at least one or two of those shaped towers attached to them somewhere. And anywhere he looked, there were more of them, more flat-topped houses and buildings, more and more and more as the steely light of pre-dawn prepared to give way to the sun. They were still too far away from him to make out much detail, but it was obvious from the torches and lights he could see that there was quite a bit of activity around the waterfront. He didn't know if it was revelers or workers, but the movements of those lights, and their occasional extinguishing, said people were tending them, or putting them out as the light increased.

  Dala Yar Arak. The largest city in the world, and a place that Phandebrass and a few others had said wasn't a very nice place. This was the destination that started them off so many months ago. This was where the Goddess told him to go, and just getting here was not in any way, shape, or form the end of it. It was the largest city in the world, and he was there to find a single book. A book that other people were also trying to find.

  Seeing it brought mixed emotions within him. He was relieved to finally be here, but he was anxious about the momentous task that awaited them. Seeing the city made him a little afraid, but it also filled him with a terrible resolve, a nearly holy fervor to find the Book of Ages. He had changed so much since they left Suld. He wasn't the same person anymore. He had hardened, turned feral, become something that he used to fear. But not anymore. He had left with Faalken, and now the Knight was buried on foreign ground, buried in Saranam, killed on his behalf. The loss of Faalken had taught him a few hard lessons. That he was not there to be nice. That he would not let another friend die. That this was not a game.

  He would find that book. And if had to kill half the people in Dala Yar Arak to get his paws on it, then so be it. Killing half the population would be a far lesser evil than letting someone else discover the location of the Firestaff, because if that happened, the people he did care about would be in danger.

  Tarrin didn't give a damn about the world. All he cared about was the few people in the world he loved. He would find the Book of Ages, and then find the Firestaff, if for any other reason than to protect his mother and father and sister, to protect Keritanima and Allia, to protect Dolanna, Dar, Miranda, Zak, and the Vendari. To protect Camara Tal, Sarraya, and Phandebrass. To protect Triana and Jesmind, to protect Mist and his unborn son. He would find it to honor the loss of Faalken, to give closure to the mission for which the Knight paid with his life.

  He would find it for Janette, the sweet little girl to whom he owed so much. He wouldn't allow her future to be cut short. He didn't care what it took, or who he had to kill, he would find that book. Even if he had to pry it out of the dead hands of the Emperor of Arak himself.

  Allia's scent touched him over the wind, and he looked back in time to see her come up to him. He put his arm around her, feeling a pang that Keritanima wasn't nestled up under his other arm, sharing a silent moment at the bow, staring at the city ahead.

  "That's it," she finally said in Selani.

  "That's it," he agreed. "Are you ready?"

  "I am ready, deshida. It has been a very long time coming. Are you ready?"

  "I am now," he said grimly, looking out over the alien skyline of the capital of the Empire of Yar Arak. He looked out over the city, and he could see was the lovely little face of Janette in the blur of the buildings, looking out at him with that serious little smile that made her look so cute.

  Whatever it took.

  "I am now," he said again, clenching a paw into a fist.

  The peaceful city of Dala Yar Arak was just waking to start another day, as merchants rose to open shops, servants went about the morning chores in the service of their masters, and the predators of the night began to give up the streets to the people who lived under the sun. It was the start of a standard day, nothing of great consequence that would make that day more memorable than any other. But they were oblivious to the fact that their city was now under siege. The first day of a siege, in a war that would threaten to tear the Empire apart.

  Chapter 22

  "Come on, come on, come on, this is not what we do here, yes!" Renoit boomed from the steering deck.

  It was just past dawn. Dancer had docked only twenty minutes before, and the forty-two performers, workers, and guards were assembling on deck, preparing for the parading march to where they would pitch their large circus tent and perform during the Festival of the Sun. Tarrin sat sedately in Allia's hooded cowl the entire time, staying in cat form so as not to give away who he was to any of the dock workers or spectators looking on. He didn't blend in with her sand-colored clothing, but he was deep enough into her hood to keep from being seen. Allia looked much different in her desert clothing than she did in the trousers and vests she had favored on the ship. The clothing was baggy and loose, hiding her form, and within the folds of that cl
othing the Selani hid her weapons. She looked every bit as intimidating now as he remembered the very first day he saw her, which was in the Tower. She had been wearing her desert clothes then as well, and he remembered how impressive she had looked.

  Tarrin found that by putting his back paws against the bottom of the hood, he could lean over her shoulder and see what was going on without spilling out of his pouch. He had to contend with her mane of silver-white hair, because she had unbound it as she commonly did when at home, letting it come out of her hood and protect her face from the sting of blowing sand. He found out that the Selani favored hoods over the turbans the Saranites and Arakites favored because they kept loose sand from getting under the shirts. Allia's hood had a string sewn into it that she could pull taut, to keep the hood over her head in strong wind. She also had a long, wide scarf wrapped around her neck, which was pulled up to protect the face and reinforce the hood when a Selani had to put her face into the wind. Over that, she would wear a crysathi, a borrowed word from the Arakite crystach, which meant glass. It was a curious crystal visor made by the Selani, something akin to the spectacles that Phandebrass and Sevren wore, but Allia's crysathi was a large single piece of shaped quartz crystal that fit over the eyes and protected them from the blowing sand. He had never seen them before, because Allia's crysathi had been broken during her journey to the Tower, and she didn't have a spare. Allia had made the crysathi she had on the night before using Sorcery, and a large chunk of quartz crystal Phandebrass gave to her.

  "I feel very out of place," Allia muttered.

  "Remember, you're just a showpiece, sister," Tarrin told her in the unspoken manner of the Cat. "I seriously doubt Renoit is going to make you perform. We have more important things to do."

  "Which I can only do at night," she grunted. "That is not what concerns me, brother. It is being surrounded by Arakites that will bother me. We do not get along with them."

  "I've heard," he replied.

  Tarrin watched with Allia as they got organized. The dancers would be first, followed by the roving acrobats. The three jugglers lined up behind them, and strongmen came up behind them. Those performers that couldn't perform while on the move were behind the strongmen, just in front of the men carrying the tent, ropes, and poles. Renoit himself would be a the very front. They were all wearing bright, colorful costumes, attire that would draw every eye to them, even over the colorful robes that Arakites favored. Most had empty hands, but one juggler carried balls, the second carried pins, and Deward had his favorite juggling knives in hand. They chattered at one another excitedly, preening themselves to make sure they looked the best they could, adjusting necklines or feathers in hair for maximum effect. All of the dancers, he noticed, were wearing makeup, and they had on costumes more suited for a whorehouse than a dancing troupe. Eye candy, Renoit had called it. Lure in the customers with scanty costumes during the parade, a tease to bring their money into the circus' coffers.

  From what he understood, the parade was a very important thing for the circus. It did more than let the performers warm up a little and get rid of their sea legs. Dolanna had said that it also allowed the people to get a look at the circus, to see them parade through town and whet their appetites with what they performed while on the move. Eye candy. Get their attention with dancing and tumbling, get them to come to the circus and pay to see the same thing, and a little bit more besides. All of them certainly seemed to be looking forward to the ritual, from the excitement in their voices and the impatience on their faces.

  Camara Tal came up on deck, and she looked very angry. She had nothing on but a robe, which had been hastily tied at the waist and left most of her bosom bare. "Renoit!" she thundered, in a voice so loud they probably heard it on the other side of the city. "Get in front of me right now, you fat sneak, or I'll nail you to the mast!"

  "Whatever is your problem, Mistress Tal?" Renoit asked smoothly as he approached.

  "You are!" she snapped. "If you don't give me back my clothes right now, you'll find yourself living out a life so horrible that beggars will give you money!"

  "A costume, I left one for you, Mistress Tal."

  "That wasn't a costume, that was a handkerchief!" she blasted at the round circus master, her face turning an ugly red. "I am not here to play for you, mainlander! If you don't give me back my proper clothes, I'll fix it so you won't have a need to wear yours!"

  He had no idea what she meant by that, but it certainly turned Renoit pale. He gaped at her for a second, then hurriedly turned and chattered out a quick command in Shacèan to one of his aides. Tarrin knew just enough Shacèan to realize that he sent the younger man off to get Camara Tal's clothes.

  "Strange that a woman who shows so much skin isn't willing to show a little more," Allia mused in Selani to Tarrin.

  "I think it's the principle of the matter, sister," he replied. "From the way it sounds, Renoit didn't give her a choice."

  Allia chuckled quietly. "Is it just me, or does Camara Tal seem to go around in a perpetual state of annoyance?"

  "It's not you, Allia," Tarrin answered.

  "I think she needs to get bedded. That would take that edge right off of her."

  "Probably, but she's not receptive. From what I've managed to piece together, an Amazon wouldn't bed a non-Amazon. They think it thins their bloodline."

  "It probably does. She's larger than most human men. Amazons are a very burly strain of human."

  "True."

  Phandebrass came up with Dolanna and Dar, and Tarrin had to stifle a silent laugh. The mage was wearing a white robe, upon which was embroidered numberous mystical symbols, suns, stars, crescent moons, and other strange icons. The long, pointy hat he wore on his head, a narrow cone of red, clashed with his grayish-white hair, and made him look sallow and unhealthy. Phandebrass' age was something of a mystery to Tarrin, a man with the hair of an old man yet with a youthful face, but the hat made him look more silly than old. The hat as well was decorated with what Tarrin guessed were mystical symbols. Dar and Dolanna wore simple robes much akin to what they wore in the Tower, simple garb of a pleasing blue. The blue didn't look good with Dar's dark coloring, but the young man's charismatic handsomeness overcame that. Dolanna, on the other hand, looked absolutely radiant in her blue robe, with a white sash tied around her slim waist, and it reminded him how beautiful the slim, slight Sorceress really was.

  "That will never do," Sarraya said disdainfully as she flitted up to the two Sorcerers, looking at Dar with a critical eye. She motioned at him, and his blue robe suddenly turned a very soft shade of brown, a color that much better blended with his dark skin and black hair. Dar looked down at himself curiously, holding out his robe to inspect its new color. "Much better," the sprite said with a grin, then she flitted over to Allia and landed on the shoulder that Tarrin wasn't occupying. "You should be wearing a little bow, Tarrin," the Faerie jibed at him with a grin and a sly wink.

  "How would you like to wear a necklace of your own guts, Sarraya?" Tarrin retorted with an ugly look.

  "Touchy touchy," she teased with a laugh. "Where are the mage's little dragons? I figured they'd be part of this demonstration."

  "They're probably around," Tarrin replied.

  "I hope the fat man knows where we're going," Sarraya said.

  "An official-looking person came on board right after we lowered the plank," Allia told her. "I think he told Renoit where we are going."

  "It's good to know someone knows where we're going," Sarraya smiled.

  Renoit clapped his hands up on the steering deck to get everyone's attention. "Alright, we will start in a moment, yes!" he boomed. "Remember, energy and smiles, my friends! We are here to entertain, so let us entertain!"

  "I thought he was here to get rich," Sarraya grinned.

  "To some, money is only what supports one while they seek their heart's desire, Sarraya," Allia noted soberly. "Renoit may be a businessman, but look at him. He enjoys what he does. For him, it is the greatest thing tha
t people will pay for him to do what he loves to do." She crossed her arms. "I think Renoit enjoys making people smile. There is a great heart beneath that layer of fat."

  "Can't argue with that," Sarraya ceded.

  "At least you said one intelligent thing so far today," Tarrin noted dryly.

  Sarraya leaned back so Allia's neck wasn't in the way, then stuck her tongue out at the Were-cat with all the indignancy she could put behind it.

  "You'd better fade out," Tarrin warned. "I don't think we should give ourselves away."

  "At least you said something smart," she returned with a wink, then her form faded from view as she enacted her natural magical ability to turn invisible.

  Tarrin looked out at the warehouses as the wind changed, carrying the smell beyond them onto the docks, and the smell of the largest city in the world was realized. In reality, Dala Yar Arak didn't smell as bad as some cities, but the press of so many people in one place was unmistakable in the smell of the city. The overpowering smell of people permeated everything, seeped down into the very cobblestones, covered every finger of ever wall. Layered over that singular smell were the smells of human living, waste and excrement, the rats and insects that found a living with humans, the smell of dust and animal dung, the smell of that sand-colored stone. The air was tinged by the salty smell of the sea, and the smell of dead fish that always invaded cities that made a living from fishing was present, but in no way as predominant as it was in other port cities.

  And so they began. After filing off the ship and forming up, the circus was on the move. Pipers and musicians heralded their approach as they marched down the street. And there was energy. Dancers swayed along the street as the crowds formed at the sides, catching the eyes of dark-robed, turban-wearing men, acrobats tumbled and somersaulted to the cadence of the pipes, and the rest of them marched along behind them, doing their best to catch the interest of the onlookers. Some, however, didn't look very happy. Allia moved along with a calm, almost arrogant expression, letting the Arakites stare at her and gasp and point as she went by. Camara Tal, who was right behind the Selani, got no fewer points and whispered comments, for Tarrin doubted they had ever seen an Amazon before. To his surprise, some of the spectators threw small coins in their direction, which were adeptly scooped up by the acrobats as they performed in front and to the sides of the main party. And in front of it all was Renoit, the megaphone in his hand, barking to the crowd in an enthusiastic voice. He spoke the West's common language, Sulasian, but Tarrin didn't doubt that many people in the crowd could understand it. An Arakite that wanted to do business in the West had better understand Sulasian. Tarrin looked at the spectators, and saw immediately the fundamental difference between Arakite society and the West.