She left, and Gorath said, ‘She’s right, Owyn. We need to rest.’
Owyn lay down next to the fire, content with a full stomach, and glad to be rid of the drugs that had dulled his senses for so many days. Still, it seemed as if only a moment passed between closing his eyes and Gorath’s shaking him, saying, ‘It’s time.’
He rose and forced stiff aching muscles to obey as he wrapped a heavy fur-lined moredhel cloak around him and mounted a waiting horse. If the guards were curious as to who Liallan’s guests were, they said nothing, merely standing aside as the two strangers rode off.
The building was run-down, but there were a dozen horses tied in front of it. ‘We can get something to eat inside,’ said Gorath.
The purse Owyn had liberated contained a few coins, Kingdom, Quegan and even a Keshian silver piece, as well as some gems. They dismounted and Owyn said, ‘What is this place?’
‘You’d call it an inn. One of the conventions brought to the north by your people. My kind have never created such, but we have come to appreciate their benefits.’
They went inside to find a dark, small room, with as many as twenty men and moredhel standing around. A bar that was little more than long planks set upon barrels ran along the far wall of the building. Gorath shoved aside two men and said, ‘Ale and something to eat.’
The human barkeeper produced a platter of cheese and bread, surprisingly good given the shoddy surroundings. They ate, and Owyn trusted Gorath’s instincts on his ability to blend in. ‘Where are we?’ he whispered.
‘Near the City of Sar-Isbandia. What you humans call Armengar. There are villages and towns throughout this region. Much trading with the south.’
Owyn said, ‘Most of us who live in the Kingdom think of the Teeth of the World as a wall separating our peoples.’
‘It’s a barrier to warfare, perhaps, but enterprising men find a way to trade. There are a dozen ways through the mountains south of here.’
From behind, a voice spoke lowly. ‘And all are heavily guarded, Gorath.’
Gorath spun, his hand falling upon his sword hilt. ‘Draw steel and die,’ said the other moredhel. ‘Eat your cheese and live.’
Gorath didn’t smile, but his face relaxed. ‘I see you’ve managed to keep your head attached to your shoulders, Irmelyn.’
‘No thanks to Delekhan,’ said the other moredhel. He indicated with a nod they should move to a small table in the corner. Owyn picked up the cheese, took his ale and followed.
Sitting in the crowded room, the moredhel named Irmelyn said, ‘Delekhan will have the rivers running piss and chickens laying dust by the time this all ends. Drink while you can, my old foe.’
‘Why are you here, Irmelyn? I was told Obkhar’s tribe had fled.’
‘Most have, but a few of us remain behind, in the hope we can free our chieftain.’
Lowering his voice to a whisper, Gorath asked, ‘He’s alive?’
Irmelyn nodded. ‘He’s alive, and close by. He’s being held prisoner in the naphtha mines under the destroyed city.’
‘Prisoner?’ Gorath looked confused. ‘Why isn’t he dead?’
‘Because Delekhan doesn’t know he’s working as a slave in the mines. They think he is a man called Okabun, from Liallan’s Snow Leopards.’
Gorath said, ‘So you linger nearby to free him?’
Irmelyn nodded. ‘We do. We need help. Would you care to provide that help?’
‘In exchange for what?’
‘For a way south. As I said, the passes are all heavily guarded, but I know a way to get through.’
‘What do we need to do?’ asked Gorath.
‘Come outside.’
They rose and left the relative warmth of the inn. Once they were outside Irmelyn said, ‘We have discovered a way out of the mines. Unguarded.’
‘Then why doesn’t Obkhar just walk out?’ asked Owyn.
With a snarl, Irmelyn said, ‘When I want to hear from you, pup, I’ll kick you.’
Gorath said, ‘Then tell me, why doesn’t Obkhar just walk out?’
‘Because of the fumes that hang in the tunnels. When the humans fled after firing the city, several tunnels from the old keep collapsed. One didn’t, but it is small, and the fumes that hang there would explode if a spark was struck. They would overcome anyone seeking to pass.’
‘But you have a plan?’ said Gorath.
‘We have found masks, used by humans in the old days, constructed of bone and membrane from a dragon’s lungs. They let air pass through but keep the deadly fumes out.’
‘So you need someone to get inside and get a mask to Obkhar,’ said Owyn.
The tall moredhel glared at the young human, but said, ‘Yes, we need someone to get a mask to Obkhar and escape with him.’
‘Why us?’ asked Gorath. ‘Why not a member of your clan?’
‘There are only a few of us left in the Northlands, and Moraeulf’s soldiers know us all. You, on the other hand, while known by name, are not well known by sight. The Ardanien lived apart for many years; you could claim to be a member of any number of clans and who would say no?’
‘What do you propose?’ asked Gorath.
‘Go to the slaver, a human named Venutrier. He claims to be from the Kingdom city of Lan, but I know him to be a Quegan. Tell him you wish to sell the boy.’
‘What?’ Owyn was about to object.
Gorath held up his hand. ‘Say on.’
‘Venutrier is as venal a human as you could wish to meet. He will certainly try to capture you. Let him.
‘Two of his guards will be alerted and allow you to enter the mines with your bundles and will store them for you. When you are taken below, they will come to you with your bundles and leave you unwatched. Obkhar will be somewhere on the level to the west of the great gallery. More than that we can’t tell you. If you agree and get him out, we will see you and your companion safely south.’
Gorath said, ‘Before I say yes or no, tell me: have you word of Cullich?’
Irmelyn said, ‘Yes, she is not far from here. A hut between here and the village of Karne. We can see her on our way south if that is your desire.’
Gorath was quiet for a moment, then said, ‘It is. We will do it.’
Irmelyn said, ‘Then walk to the mine entrance. You will be challenged. Tell the guard you wish to speak to Venutrier. I will take your horses and weapons and meet you at a place Obkhar knows.’
‘Care to tell us?’ asked Owyn.
