‘Only Honest John knows for certain.’ He led her past booths offering all manner of goods and services, several lewd, a score or more clearly illegal anywhere Miranda had ever been, and many incomprehensible. ‘Rumor has it that John was a barkeep on his homeworld who was run out of his birth city over some dispute. A roving band of some sort of aboriginal people chased him, and he blundered into the entrance to the Hall. As fate would have it, he appeared in the Hall in the midst of a battle. It has been said that, not knowing any better, he jumped into the void opposite the door he had entered, discovering the first entrance into the stable place in which the Inn is now housed.’
Boldar moved down a side corridor. ‘He blundered around in a strange darkness, then somehow found his way back to the Hall, moving back to his homeworld once he was certain the aborigines were gone and returning to his birth city. Over the years he came back to the Hall, exploring and trading. When he finally had some sense of the society within the Hall, he decided the Inn was what would make him rich. He made some deals, hired some workers, and returned here to establish his small inn. He’s added onto it over the years, until now it’s a small township. Whenever he adds onto the building, he encounters no limit to the size he can increase his holdings, or at least not so far.’
‘Has it?’
‘What?’
‘Made John rich?’
Boldar laughed, and again Miranda was struck by how boyish the mercenary looked. ‘I suspect that by any reasonable measure, John is the richest man in creation. He could buy and sell worlds should he choose. But like most of us, he’s found that after a while riches are only a means to keep oneself amused or to keep tally on how well one does in the various games and transactions in the Hall.’
Reaching a doorway hung with a curtain, Boldar called, ‘Mustafa, are you in?’
‘Who wants to know?’
That got a laugh from Boldar, who swept aside the curtain, indicating Miranda should enter. She did and found herself inside a small room with but a single table, upon which a solitary candle burned. Otherwise, the room was without distinction – no wall hangings or other furniture, just another door in the wall facing the one through which they’d entered.
A man stood behind the table, his face nearly black, like aged and oiled leather. A white beard adorned his cheeks and chin, though his upper lip was shaven, and his head was covered with a green turban. He bowed. ‘Peace be upon you,’ he said in the language of the Jalpur.
‘Upon you be peace,’ answered Miranda.
‘You seek Pug of Stardock?’ he asked.
Miranda nodded. Glancing at Boldar, she raised an eyebrow in question.
Boldar said, ‘Mustafa’s a fortune-teller.’
Mustafa said, ‘You must first cross my palm with gold.’ He held out his hand. Miranda reached into her belt and withdrew a coin, placing it upon his hand. He put it in his own belt pouch without looking at it. ‘What do you seek?’
‘I just told you!’
Mustafa said, ‘You need to say it aloud!’
Fighting off irritation at what she thought was needless show to convince gullible travelers, Miranda said, ‘I need to find Pug of Stardock.’
‘Why?’
Miranda said, ‘That is my business, but the need is great.’
‘Many look for this man. He has taken precautions against being followed by those he would rather not encounter. How may I know you are not such a one?’
Miranda said, ‘One may vouch for me, but he is back upon the world of Midkemia: Tomas, friend of Pug.’
The Dragon Rider.’ Mustafa nodded. ‘That is a name few would know who meant to harm Pug.’
‘Where might I find him?’
‘He seeks alliances and goes to speak with the gods. Seek him in the Celestial City, in the Hall of the Gods Awaiting.’
Miranda said, ‘How do I get there?’
‘Return to Midkemia,’ answered Mustafa, ‘and get you to the land of Novindus. In the great mountains, the Pillars of the Stars, find the Necropolis, the home of the Dead Gods. There, atop the peaks of the mountains, there is a hall in which those gods waiting to be reborn abide. Go there.’
Miranda didn’t wait, but rose and left, leaving Boldar standing alone with Mustafa. After a second, Boldar said, ‘Is this true? Or are you doing one of your carnival acts?’
Mustafa shrugged. ‘I don’t know if it’s true. That’s just what I was paid to say.’
‘Who paid you?’
‘Pug of Stardock.’ The old man took off his turban, revealing a nearly bald pate. Scratching his head, he said, ‘I suspect it’s probably another false lead. I have the distinct impression this Pug is a man who doesn’t wish to be found.’
Boldar said, ‘This gets interesting. I think I’ll catch up with her and see if she needs help.’
Mustafa shook his head and said, ‘Find him or not, I have a feeling she’s going to need a great deal of help before this is over. Some idiot left open a critical gate to the demon realm, and a couple of realities could be in jeopardy as a result.’ He yawned.
Boldar was about to ask what that meant, but considered Miranda getting too far ahead, so he said nothing and left.
A moment after Boldar left, the other door opened and a man stepped through. Small but striking, he had dark hair and eyes and a closely trimmed beard, and wore a simple robe of black. He reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out some gold coins. Handing them to Mustafa, he said, ‘Thank you. You did well.’
‘Anytime. What are you going to do now?’
‘I think I’ll go set up a small test.’
Mustafa said, ‘Well, enjoy yourself. And let me know how the situation with the demon realm turns out; things could get busy around here if they get loose.’
‘I will. Good-bye, Mustafa,’ said the man as he began to move his hands.
‘Good-bye, Pug,’ responded Mustafa, but by the time he had spoken. Pug of Stardock had vanished from sight.
• Chapter Fourteen • Journey (#ulink_759b481c-cdf3-5cb2-86e8-a1d593e588cc)
Erik dismounted.
Roo grabbed the reins of Erik’s and Billy’s horses and led them away. Erik and Billy ran forward, weapons at the ready, while the maneuver was repeated up and down the line.
Since leaving Brek’s at Shingazi’s Landing two weeks before. Calis had been drilling the men continually. They were now being trained as mounted infantry. At the first sign of attack, one man in three would lead the horses to be staked behind the line while the other two made a defensive position where instructed. The men had complained about this, saying it made no sense to leave a perfectly good horse and get down to fight, but the complaints had fallen on deaf ears.
Nakor had laughed it off, saying only, ‘Man and horse gives a much bigger target than man on foot hiding behind a rock.’
The drills were becoming second nature to Erik and the others, who now waited to see what would happen next. Sometimes, nothing; other times, Hatonis’s company of clansmen from the City of the Serpent River would ‘attack,’ and the results could be painful. The drills were conducted using heavy wooden swords, weighted with lead rods, that were twice the heft of a normal shortsword. Erik swore his own sword was feather-light in his hand after weeks of drilling with the false swords, which he supposed was the point of it all, but the wooden swords could leave heavy welts and even break bones, and the clansmen from the City of the Serpent River seemed to take delight in embarrassing Calis’s company.
Erik didn’t understand the politics of this strange land; he knew that Calis and Hatonis were old friends, or at least friendly acquaintances, but the other men from that distant city seemed either suspicious or contemptuous of Calis’s men. He asked and was told by one of the soldiers from Calis’s last voyage that clan warriors simply didn’t have much use for mercenaries. Erik took this to mean that only a few leaders, such as Hatonis, knew of their real purpose in coming to this distant land.
Erik heard a rattle behind him and knew that Roo had returned and was laying down the odd short spears they had picked up at Brek’s. Soft iron, they were designed to be thrown at charging opponents, either injuring them or fouling their shields. Once they struck something, they were useless, as they bent easily, so the enemy couldn’t throw them back. A shout went up from a crest nearby and suddenly it was raining arrows. Erik raised his shield, crouching low behind it, and felt two shafts strike and shatter on the heavy metal and wood. A curse nearby told Erik that Luis hadn’t been as fortunate, and had been struck by the dull point of a practice shaft. Not lethal, these shafts nevertheless stung when they struck, and occasionally they could cause real injury.
Then another shout signaled the charge, and Erik rose, gripping one of the heavy iron spears. ‘Ready!’ shouted de Loungville. As the charging clansmen came near, Erik tensed, and as if reading his mind, de Loungville shouted, ‘Wait for it!’
As the clansmen bore down upon them, the men of Calis’s company waited until de Loungville shouted, ‘Throw!’ and Erik and the others motioned throwing the pilum, as the short soft spear was known in the Quegan tongue. Having no practice pilum to use, they couldn’t throw the weapon, so after pantomiming a cast, each man dropped his spear next to where they waited and, with a few audible groans, readied the ponderous practice swords.
