Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 1 - The Verdent Passage (13 page)

Lit only by a handful of narrow windows, the interior of the building was quite dim. As
Agis stood near the door, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the babble of
voices inside quickly died.

Once his eyes were accustomed to the shadows, he found himself standing in a small square
room. Dozens of surly-looking elves stared at him with intolerant expressions, their hands
firmly closed around mugs of fermented kank-nectar, known locally as broy.

A beefy man wearing a filthy linen apron hitched his thumb toward a set of stairs. “Your
friends are upstairs, my lord.”

Agis nodded his thanks to the proprietor, then ascended the stairs and stepped out onto a
second-story veranda overlooking Shadow Square. In the background rose Kalak's mountainous
ziggurat, looming over the plaza like a dark cloud.

Four nobles, easily identifiable by their haughty bearing and careful grooming, sat at a
table on the edge of the balcony. Like Agis, they were all senators, each the informally
acknowledged leader of a different faction. A half-elf serving wench with fire-colored
hair and a low-cut bodice stood beside the table, gamely laughing at a ribald joke.

As Agis stepped toward the table, a fair-skinned man with a square-set jaw noticed him.
"Welcome Agis'

Beryl called. “Tell me, did you manage to arrive with your coins?”

Agis placed a hand on his hip and felt his purse still hanging from his belt. “As a matter
of fact, I did.”

“Good!” bellowed Dyan, a lord with a jowl-heavy face and a rotund build. “You can pay!”

A lanky man with long blond hair offered Agis a stool at his side. “You may as well spend
your money here, my friend. You'll never leave the Elven Market with your purse strings
intact.” Kiah's tone was warm, as always when he was spending someone else's money. He was
the leader of a formal association of business-minded nobles.

Agis accepted the stool and ordered a mug of broy, leaving Caro to stand behind him. No
other servants were present, undoubtedly because Tithian had confiscated them all.

As soon as the serving wench left to fetch Agis's drink, Dyan nodded toward Caro. “Perhaps
it would be wise to send your boy downstairs.”

Realizing that the other nobles would feel more comfortable discussing their sensitive
agenda without a slave present, Agis nodded to Caro. “Wait downstairs. Have whatever you
eat or drink charged to me.”

The old dwarf inclined his head and left without a word.

“You're too kind to your slaves,” Kiah said. “It makes them insolent.”

“To the contrary,” Agis replied. “It makes them loyal. I guarantee that Caro will not
abuse the privilege I just offered him.”

Let's get to our business while the serving wench is away,“ Dyan said. ”Mirabel may be no
friend of the templars, but she's no friend of ours either. I wouldn't put it past her to
earn a coin or two by selling what she hears of our conversation."

Agis began immediately. “We all agree that Kalak is driving Tyr to ruin. Closing the iron
mine was bad enough, but by confiscating our slaves, he's condemned the entire city to
starvation.”

“What do you propose?” asked Jaseela, the only person who had not yet spoken. She was a
sultry beauty with silky black hair hanging to her waist, a shapely figure, and a regal
face dominated by huge hazel eyes. Jaseela's speeches were seldom taken well in the Senate
chamber, for they often bordered on the seditious. Still, even her greatest rivals admired
her courage in so consistently speaking out against Kalak.

“Given that everyone's interests in this matter are similar, I thought we might work
together toward a solution,” Agis said. “Between the five of us, we have enough influence
to insure that any resolution passes virtually unopposed in the Senate.”

The other three men nodded, but Jaseela rolled her hazel eyes and looked out over the
square.

Agis continued, “Let's convene an emergency session at sunrise. We'll co-sponsor a
resolution demanding that the king return our slaves and reopen the iron mine. With our
influence, we're sure to get unified backing. Even the king won't be able to ignore us.”

“He won't ignore us, that's true,” returned Dyan. “He'll have us assassinated.”

Beryl added, “Even if we survive, Kalak hasn't listened to the Senate on any matter dear
to him in a thousand years. What makes you think he's going to start now?”

“If he doesn't, we'll withhold our taxes. We'll burn our fields,” Agis said
enthusiastically. “We'll revolt!”

“We'll commit suicide is what you mean,” Dyan said. shaking his head. “You're talking
madness. We can't force the king to do something he doesn't want to. He'll kill us all.”

"Then what are we going to do? Agis demanded.

Beryl glanced toward the ziggurat. “Nothing. Kalak's been building the ziggurat for a
hundred years. Our grandfathers and our fathers managed to survive his mismanagement, and
so will we. Now that the tower's less than a month from completion, we'd be fools to
oppose it.”

“In a month, my faro will be withered and dead,” Agis said. “Without enough slaves to work
my wells and irrigate the land, my fields are baking. The rest of you can't even be as
well off as I am.”

“So what? Are any of
us
going to starve?” Dyan asked, shrugging his plump shoulders. “I, for one, have no
intention of risking my life to feed slaves and derelicts.”

Kiah placed a hand on Agis's shoulder. “You're overreacting, my friend,” he said. “If you
look at it in a certain light, the situation is advantageous to us.” He paused and smiled
at the other nobles. “I'm sure we all keep crops stockpiled against famine. Once the
effects of the confiscations hit, those stockpiles will be worth ten times what they are
now. If we can reach some arrangement among ourselves and the other nobles, we might even
drive the price much higher.”

Agis shrugged Kiah's hand off his shoulder and stood. “Are we concerned about nothing but
gold and protecting our own fat necks?” he demanded. “By the moons, I can't believe what
I'm hearing!”

Mirabel stepped out of the door with Agis's broy. He quickly returned to his seat,
pretending to laugh at some abusive jest. Once she placed the gummy liquid in front of
him, Dyan immediately handed an empty mug to her and said, “Be a good wench and fetch me
another milkwine.”

As soon as Mirabel went back into the suphouse, Agis resumed his appeal. “If we allow our
fear of Kalak to intimidate us, we're no better than his slaves.”

“If you give me a course of action that will work, I'll go along with you,” said Dyan.
“But I won't risk my life and my estate by sponsoring a meaningless resolution that Kalak
will ignore anyway.” He shook his head to emphasize his point.

“He's right, Agis,” Beryl said, not lifting his eyes from his mug. “The Senate can do
nothing.”

“Perhaps we need to do something outside the Senate” Jaseela said, commanding the
senators' attention by ending her long silence.

“Such as?” asked Kiah.

“Kill him.”

The balcony fell quiet. Finally, Dyan asked, “Kill who, exactly?”

“You
know
who I'm talking about,” she countered, fixing her hazel eyes on each of the men in turn.

“Regicide?” gasped Dyan, pushing his stool away from the table. “Are you mad?”

“He's too powerful,” objected Beryl.

“What would happen to the city?” demanded Kiah, waving his hand toward the merchant
emporiums on the other side of the ziggurat. “The political and economic structure of Tyr
would collapse. We wouldn't be able to sell our crops.”

Agis remained thoughtful, trying to decide if Jaseela could be right. Perhaps the only way
to save Tyr was to kill the king. It was a difficult thing for him to accept, for it meant
destroying the foundation of the city's ancient social order. He could not deny that there
was much that was wrong in the cityÑthe corruption of the templars, the poverty of the
masses, the injustice of Kalak's lawsÑ but he had always believed that those things could
be corrected by working from within the established order. He wasn't sure that he was
ready to give up that notion.

Jaseela's mind, however, was made up. Gentlemen, all of your objections can be worked
out,“ she said, bracing her elbows on the table. ”The question is, do we let Kalak ruin
our city or don't we?"

Kiah shook his head. “No. The situation is more complex than that. What about the
templars? How will they react when Kalak is killed? How willÑ”

“The question before us is simple,” Jaseela interrupted, rising to her feet. “Are we
nobles, or are we slaves?”

When no one answered, the noblewoman turned her hazel eyes on Agis. “What about you?” she
demanded. “You're the one who wanted to resist the king. Is your courage limited to the
Senate chamber, or are you willing to fight for what you believe?”

Agis met her demanding gaze with a calm countenance. “I've spent ten years in the Senate
fightingÑ”

“Can you point to a single resolution that we've passed in that time that has actually
made Tyr a better place for anyone but ourselves?” Jaseela demanded.

Agis pondered the question for a moment, then looked down into his mug of broy.

“Of course not,” she said for him. “The templars are corrupt, the Senate is corrupt, and
so is the nobility.”

“So we should destroy it all and start over?” Agis asked. “You're beginning to sound like
you're in the Veiled Alliance!”

“I wish I was,” Jaseela said bitterly. She turned to leave. “At least they've made enough
trouble for Kalak to attract his attention.”

Agis rose to intercept her, but before he left the table he caught sight of a tumult in
the square below. “Don't leave just yet, Jaseela,” he said, moving to the edge of the
balcony. “Something's happening in the square.”

Jaseela and the other nobles joined him. Dozens of paupers were pouring into the square
from the narrow alleys that led away from it. From the elves' tents rose a drone of
apprehensive voices as the merchants hurriedly packed their goods into bundles. Confused
residents were casting aside their water pots and trying to push through the mass of
paupers rushing into the square.

Kiah searched the sky above the tenements surrounding the plaza. “There's no sign of
smoke, so I don't think it's a fire.”

The five nobles watched in silence for several more moments. The scene grew more panicked
and more confused, with beggars and paupers continuing to stream in from all directions.
Soon, hundreds of people jammed the small plaza, half of them crowding toward the center
and the other half pushing toward the tenements surrounding it. Most of the elves had
wrapped their wares in their tents and, in groups of two and three, were beating their way
through the crowd.

Agis turned to peer down an alley running alongside the Red Kank. He found himself staring
down at a half-giant, his menacing eyes as big around as plates. Below the eyes, a huge
nose ran down to a misshaped, thick-lipped mouth.

“In the king's name, stand away from the wall!” ordered the half-giant, tilting his head
back only a little to look up at Agis.

Agis obeyed, reaching for his mug of broy. The guard turned his attention back to the
alley, gleefully kicking at the beggars, driving the poor wretches into the square.

Once the half-giant had passed the Red Kank, Dyan, Beryl, and Kiah immediately disappeared
into the suphouse. Agis and Jaseela stayed where they were to watch what happened next.

From each alley emerged one of the king's huge soldiers, using his feet and a club of
polished bone to drive a small group of terrified paupers before him. Behind the
half-giants came templars armed with whips and long black ropes. As Agis and Jaseela
watched, the templars moved to the edge of the square and started separating people into
two groups. They released one group to leave the square, then they bound the hands of
those who remained into loops on the black ropes. As far as Agis could tell, the only
thing that determined whether the templars released a person or bound him into a rope was
whether or not the captive could produce a bribe.

“Tithian is certainly a clever fellow,” remarked Jaseela sarcastically. “I would never
have thought to solve the worker shortage by enslaving beggars.”

“I wonder if it has occurred to Tithian that the king's half-giants would do much better
on the ziggurat than our slaves or these paupers?” Agis asked, glancing at Jaseela.

“I'm certain it has, but have you ever known a half-giant to give an honest day's labor?”
Jaseela countered. “Besides, if he made slaves of the king's guard, who would keep the
Veiled Alliance in line?”

Below the Red Rank's balcony, a pauper broke away from the slave rope and sprinted for the
alley. A half-giant lumbered after the escapee, roaring with excitement. He caught the
unfortunate wretch in front of the suphouse, knocking the starving beggar into the wall
with a well-aimed blow of the bone club.

The guard stopped a few feet from the balcony and peered up at the nobles. “Nice smash,
eh?” he chortled, displaying his bloody club.

At that moment, a silver flash flared behind the guard and a clap of thunder rolled across
the square. Agis looked toward the sound and saw a different half-giant crashing to the
cobblestones, a smoking hole in the center of his back.

The guard in front of the Red Kank slowly turned and searched the square. “What's
happening?”

An alarmed murmur rustled across the square, and the king's men stopped collecting slaves
to look at their fallen comrade. Suddenly golden bolts of energy shot from shop windows
and alleys all around the square, striking templars and half-giants with unnerving
accuracy. Several black-robed bureaucrats collapsed. Others disappeared into the crowd.
Some of the half-giants took the attacks without falling. They only roared in pain and
clutched at the hideous burns that marked them wherever the golden beams had struck.