more to this than just a man having trouble moving on after the death of his wife and son.’
Amirantha motioned for Brandos to follow him up the stairs leading to the tower room put aside for him. They passed the door into Brandos and Samantha’s quarters and the old fighter stopped briefly to put away his sword and shield and change out of his shirt. Then he followed his adopted father up to the topmost room.
Brandos said, ‘We could go back to Gashen Tor. Samantha misses the women from the village.’ The village was called Talumba and it was situated two days east of the city of Maharta, now the capital of the kingdom of Muboya. For an idle moment Amirantha wondered how Kaspar of Olasko was faring; he was the First Minister to the Maharaja of Muboya and had returned to serve his lord and master when they had finished with the demon gate business five years earlier.
‘No,’ said Amirantha. ‘But take Samantha and go for a visit. I think it would do both of you some good.’
‘What about you?’ asked Brandos, scrutinizing his foster-father for any sign of distress or sadness. The mood throughout this place tended towards melancholy and the Warlock was already a man given to dark introspection if given half a chance.
‘Actually, Gulamendis has invited me to visit him at E’bar.’
Gulamendis was another Demon Master, one of the taredhel, or Star Elves, and he and Amirantha had become friends, or as friendly as one of those arrogant creatures could be with a human. Their affinity stemmed from a ravenous curiosity about all things demon, and Gulamendis has spent close to a year in residence here before returning to the city built in the Grey Tower Mountains by his people.
‘Well, say hello for me,’ said Brandos. ‘Now, how do we get to Gashen Tor? Do you have one of those orb things, or is it a long sea voyage?’
‘I’ll ask Jason if he has one to lend.’
‘He may say no,’ answered Brandos. ‘Seems they’re breaking down and none of the artificers, even of Tsurani descent up in LaMut, know how to fix them or make new ones.’
Amirantha frowned. ‘I would have thought after all these years Pug would have seen to that.’
A voice from the door said, ‘I know a great deal, Amirantha, but I don’t know everything.’
Brandos hadn’t heard the magician come up the stairs, and he stepped aside to let him into the room.
‘No disrespect intended, Pug.’
‘I know,’ said Pug. ‘I overheard a bit. So you’re going to visit the elves in E’bar?’
‘Overdue,’ said Amirantha. He motioned for Pug to take the chair by the small desk, while he sat on his bed. ‘We’re at something of a dead end. I’m not entirely sure what specifically you’re seeking, but each piece of information your agents turn up leads us to a dead end.’
‘Very dead, sometimes,’ said Brandos. Seeing his humour fall flat, he said, ‘I think I’ll go tell Samantha to pack up and we’ll talk about a visit home.’
‘Ask Magnus to take you and arrange a signal to fetch you back. You were right about the Tsurani orbs: we’re down to a scant few and need them for more pressing use.’
‘I understand. Thanks for lending us Magnus,’ said Brandos as he departed.
Amirantha watched him go. Then he looked over at the magician. ‘Pug, I don’t claim to know you well, but it has been over five years now. And I do know what a driven man looks like. I even share your sense of alarm over what we’ve discovered up to this point, but I detect an urgency in you that doesn’t seem entirely born out of what we know. What is it you’re not telling me?’
Pug’s face was immobile, though his eyes searched the Warlock’s face. ‘A time is coming, soon, when I will tell you things you will wish I had never told you.’ Then he got to his feet, turned away and hurried down the tower stairs.
Amirantha was left alone to reflect on this. He had a nasty feeling that what Pug had just said was almost certainly true.
AMIRANTHA WAS ASTONISHED.
He had been unprepared for the magnificence of the Star Elves’ city, E’bar. Although less than three years had elapsed since it had been completed, the city was anything but unfinished or roughly hewn but showed grace and beauty far beyond even the most impressive human achievements in Rillanon, the Jewelled City, capital of the Kingdom of the Isles, or the Upper City in the city of Kesh, home of the Imperial Family and the Truebloods.
Here were few of the massive stone-and-wood constructions of humans; here, stone had been sculptured in a fashion far beyond any mortal mason’s ability. Amirantha roughly understood the concept: geomancers willed stone into a fluid state, then sculpted it. Human geomancers were rare, though some did exist, but their craft was crude compared to what Amirantha saw before him.
The entire wall around the city appeared seamless, as if crafted from a single stone of mountainous size. Gates to the north and south and smaller portals to the east and west appeared to have organically grown within the wall as it was formed, and the Warlock thought this might not have been far from the truth. Even the gates themselves were of stone, though how they were engineered to swing freely upon unseen hinges was beyond his ability to even guess at. Even the background tingle of magic he felt when Pug or Magnus used their powers was missing. There was a far more subtle sense of the otherworldly to this place, something he had experienced in a much more disturbing fashion when dealing with certain demons. That alone would have fascinated him, but it was merely one of a million details that strove to capture his thoughts.
Everywhere there was colour, subtle but vivid. Columns of pale sand and rose edged in white or silver rose to support graceful arches above streets. Even the streets were paved with alternating squares of bright ochre and grey, with light purple grouting in between. Window shades were of the finest silk, many-layered to block unwelcome gazes yet allow light to enter. And the gold! Everywhere gold glistened in the sunlight, decorating the poles from which flew bright banners and pennons. Gold adorned doors and windows and ran as trim along rooflines. It was astonishing.
‘I’m gawking, aren’t I?’ he asked his host.
Gulamendis, Demon Master of the taredhel, smiled. ‘More than one visitor to E’bar looks as you do now. You’ll get accustomed to it.’ Glancing around to see if he was being overheard, he added, ‘Truth to tell, we are a vain people. And I suspect my people look much that way when they visit Elvandar.’
‘Do many of you journey to pay homage to the Queen?’
‘More than the Lord Regent likes.’ He paused, awkward. ‘Come, let us refresh ourselves. You will pay a courtesy call on the Lord Regent later today, but before that we must speak of many things.’
The elf’s tone was almost conversational but Amirantha had spent enough time with Gulamendis to know that his host was troubled and that many things were best not discussed in the open. Amirantha had arrived at the eastern portal and had not been allowed to step into E’bar until Gulamendis arrived to escort him. The Warlock had the distinct feeling that had his host not put in an appearance, he might have found it difficult to depart in peace. The two Sentinels looked like seasoned, hardened fighters, not the sort of city watch or constable one tended to find on the gates of a human city.
In the distance a baby’s crying could be heard briefly until it was calmed by its mother. ‘I understand babies are a rarity among your kind,’ Amirantha said.
Gulamendis looked at him with one raised eyebrow. ‘Really. Who told you that?’
‘Perhaps I misunderstood.’
‘If you are thinking