Read Online Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 4 - Obsidian Oracle by Troy Denning - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Troy Denning
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said. “But the giants are fighting among themselves. By
sending out his fleet, Andropinis has risked drawing Balic into the war. Whatever Tithian
is after, it must be something of great importance.”
Agis rose to his feet. “Which is the all the more reason I must hurry.”
Nymos also stood. “This concerns Balic as much as it does Tyr. I'm coming with you.”
“That isn't necessary.”
“Perhaps not,” replied the jozhal. “But in ten years, this is the first good excuse I've
had to get off this roof. You have no choice in the matter.”
“The trip will be too dangerous,” Agis objected.
“Don't assume that I can't take care of myself,” hissed Nymos. “Nothing makes me angrier.”
Agis sighed. “Very well. I wouldn't want to upset you.”
“Then we have a bargain?”
“Yes,” the noble said. “But that means we're partners. I'm not paying you another silver.”
“That's just as well,” said Nymos, taking the noble's arm. “You'll need what's left to
hire the smuggler. There's only one ship that can follow where the fleet's going, and its
captain drives a hard bargain.”
“Then you know Tithian's destination?” Agis inquired.
“Of course, I heard him tell it to Navarch Saana-kal,” the reptile replied. “It's Lybdos,
the Forbidden Isle.”
As they approached the ladder, Agis heard a woman speaking in the tavern below. “The
Tynan, where is he?” It was the voice of the sour-faced templar who had accosted him on
the quay.
“Tynan?” came the innkeeper's reply. “There's no Tyrian here. As you can see, we're
closed.”
“Don't lie,” growled Salust's coarse voice. “Marda sent him to see your blind pet.”
“Pet!” hissed Nymos, pulling Agis away from the opening. “I'll show them who's a pet!”
The reptile turned his hand toward the rooftop, preparing to cast a spell. The air beneath
his palm began to quiver, then a surge of energy, barely visible to the naked eye, rose
into his hand. Although it appeared Nymos was drawing his magic from the ground beneath
the building, Agis knew that was not the case. Most sorcerers could tap Athas's life-force
only through plant life. The power for the reptile's magic came not from the land, but
from the ratany hedge along the edge of the bay. The ground, and the building which sat
upon it, were only the medium through which the energy passed.
From the room below, Agis heard the sound of an open hand striking the innkeeper's face.
“Where hive you hidden the Tyrian?” demanded the templar.
“The roof,” replied the innkeeper. “Nymos sleeps up there.”
Nymos continued to draw the energy for his spell. Agis was surprised, for if the reptile
took too much power, the ratany would wither and die. The ground holding the roots of the
plants would become sterile, staying barren until the blood and sweat of hundreds of
slaves restored the soil. Despite the length of time the jozhal spent drawing his power,
however, Agis knew he would not destroy the hedge. The Veiled Alliance was dedicated to
preventing such desecrations, and no member of the group would do such a thing lightly.
The top of the ladder jiggled
as
someone began to ascend. Nymos closed his hand, cutting the flow of magical energy into
his body. He grabbed a pinch of silt and spit on it, then daubed the mixture onto the
corner of the hole. At the same time, he uttered his incantation. The dab expanded into a
sheet of orange clay and sealed the opening, drawing a muffled cry of surprise from below.
“That should hold them,” said Nymos, motioning for Agis to follow him.
The sorcerer led him to the other side of the roof, where a bone ring had been set into
the wall, with one end of a coiled rope tied into it. As Nymos threw the cord over the
side, a series of dull thumps sounded from the clay sheet blocking the opening to the roof.
“Always knew I'd have to leave in a
sending out his fleet, Andropinis has risked drawing Balic into the war. Whatever Tithian
is after, it must be something of great importance.”
Agis rose to his feet. “Which is the all the more reason I must hurry.”
Nymos also stood. “This concerns Balic as much as it does Tyr. I'm coming with you.”
“That isn't necessary.”
“Perhaps not,” replied the jozhal. “But in ten years, this is the first good excuse I've
had to get off this roof. You have no choice in the matter.”
“The trip will be too dangerous,” Agis objected.
“Don't assume that I can't take care of myself,” hissed Nymos. “Nothing makes me angrier.”
Agis sighed. “Very well. I wouldn't want to upset you.”
“Then we have a bargain?”
“Yes,” the noble said. “But that means we're partners. I'm not paying you another silver.”
“That's just as well,” said Nymos, taking the noble's arm. “You'll need what's left to
hire the smuggler. There's only one ship that can follow where the fleet's going, and its
captain drives a hard bargain.”
“Then you know Tithian's destination?” Agis inquired.
“Of course, I heard him tell it to Navarch Saana-kal,” the reptile replied. “It's Lybdos,
the Forbidden Isle.”
As they approached the ladder, Agis heard a woman speaking in the tavern below. “The
Tynan, where is he?” It was the voice of the sour-faced templar who had accosted him on
the quay.
“Tynan?” came the innkeeper's reply. “There's no Tyrian here. As you can see, we're
closed.”
“Don't lie,” growled Salust's coarse voice. “Marda sent him to see your blind pet.”
“Pet!” hissed Nymos, pulling Agis away from the opening. “I'll show them who's a pet!”
The reptile turned his hand toward the rooftop, preparing to cast a spell. The air beneath
his palm began to quiver, then a surge of energy, barely visible to the naked eye, rose
into his hand. Although it appeared Nymos was drawing his magic from the ground beneath
the building, Agis knew that was not the case. Most sorcerers could tap Athas's life-force
only through plant life. The power for the reptile's magic came not from the land, but
from the ratany hedge along the edge of the bay. The ground, and the building which sat
upon it, were only the medium through which the energy passed.
From the room below, Agis heard the sound of an open hand striking the innkeeper's face.
“Where hive you hidden the Tyrian?” demanded the templar.
“The roof,” replied the innkeeper. “Nymos sleeps up there.”
Nymos continued to draw the energy for his spell. Agis was surprised, for if the reptile
took too much power, the ratany would wither and die. The ground holding the roots of the
plants would become sterile, staying barren until the blood and sweat of hundreds of
slaves restored the soil. Despite the length of time the jozhal spent drawing his power,
however, Agis knew he would not destroy the hedge. The Veiled Alliance was dedicated to
preventing such desecrations, and no member of the group would do such a thing lightly.
The top of the ladder jiggled
as
someone began to ascend. Nymos closed his hand, cutting the flow of magical energy into
his body. He grabbed a pinch of silt and spit on it, then daubed the mixture onto the
corner of the hole. At the same time, he uttered his incantation. The dab expanded into a
sheet of orange clay and sealed the opening, drawing a muffled cry of surprise from below.
“That should hold them,” said Nymos, motioning for Agis to follow him.
The sorcerer led him to the other side of the roof, where a bone ring had been set into
the wall, with one end of a coiled rope tied into it. As Nymos threw the cord over the
side, a series of dull thumps sounded from the clay sheet blocking the opening to the roof.
“Always knew I'd have to leave in a
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