Death's Sword Book 1: Finding and Seeking

Chapter 17: Day 24

"So," mused Hzmai, "Brchak has gone into hiding and my other klchzak cannot find the boy. Now you tell me others have been seen out on the surface." The ball of orange fire that hung in the air before Hzmai crackled blue briefly. "What do you suggest I do, Arank?" asked Hzmai, voice soft and subtle.

A voice replied from the flames, "I suggest that you release some of my fellow srchzak, Lord Hzmai, that they might fall upon these other klchzak and bring one before you for questioning." It crackled with eagerness and a hunger for the hunt.

"I rather thought you might suggest such a course of action," said Hzmai, dryly, "I think not, for the moment. Things could so easily escalate out of hand. Instead, visit the Lord Qwal and bid him join me here, to discuss a proposition to our mutual benefit." The srchzak hissed with disappointment then vanished, leaving a loud, unmusical din behind it. "Really, Arank, I would have thought that three thousand years of servitude had taught you better manners than that," chided Hzmai, softly.

Arank sped through the tunnels, still hissing with annoyance. Hzmai still kept his brethren chained, powerless, and used him, Arank, first of the srchzal-ai, as his messenger! Three thousand, four hundred and twenty-seven cycles he had endured. That had been too long; it was time for things to change. He made an abrupt change of direction and plummeted into a chasm. He halted just of quickly, then hurtled along another passage, terrifying some small physical creatures that lived there. He burst out into a chamber and stopped. A pillar of orange flame was burning there already. "Well?" it asked, with none of the customary greetings. "Hail, Courd of the srchak-bey," said Arank, giving the formal introduction, "I bear a summons from the Lord Hzmai to the Lord Qwal. Hzmai will not yet release the srchak-ai; he fears lest the situation escalate."

"As well he might. My Lord Tazl found four of the marchak missing from the Sundik Cavern at nightsend yesterday." Arank went green for a moment, expressing surprise.

"So soon? Is that wise?" he asked. Courd flickered blue, twice, by way of answer. "I will deliver my message," Arank said, rising into the air and starting to retrace his route through the passageways. At the chasm, he changed course, twisting and weaving his way through the tunnels far below the surface. After over half a cycle of travel, he came to the foot of a spiral staircase and began to ascend. At the top was a room and two more staircases, one leading up and the other down. A pillar of red flame flickered and twisted before each stairway. "I bear a message for the lord Qwal from my lord Hzmai!" roared Arank as he entered the room. He had been expecting the guards. "My lord Qwal bids you welcome," replied one of the klchzak, "He will see you shortly." Arank composed himself to wait. Qwal would not keep a messenger from Hzmai waiting long. A quarter-cycle or two at most. Perhaps less in times like these.

The kujamai leader pulled a face. "It's good money you're offering," he admitted, "but I cannot take it. All my men are already hired and you know I will not break my contract." The merchant scowled angrily at him, kicked a stone across the training ground. "Then who can I get to escort my goods through the reservation? I only have three of my own retainers here and the recent reports of tuigrahan trouble...," His voice trailed off. A light came into his eyes, "Perhaps if your employer wanted to subcontract a few of your men for a little while, we could come to some arrangement?" he wheedled. He was about to continue but stopped as the kujamai shook his head emphatically. "No, merchant Hang, no, it will not work. We have been hired by the Inquisition. You know them; they won't let a thing out of their grasp once they have a hold on it," said the warrior. The merchant was taken aback at this news. "The Inquisition, Ahkita?" he said, quizically, "The Inquisition? What, all of you?"

Ahkita the kujamai nodded his head gravely. "Yes, all of us," he answered, "And no, I have no more idea than you have what the Inquisition want eighty-odd mercenaries for when they've got perfectly good sohei coming out of their ears." The merchant threw up his hands in disgust and exasperation, then turned and walked off without another word. The warrior's hand fell to his katana's hilt at this, the blade starting to slide free of its scabbard. Then the man took hold of himself and slammed the weapon home once more. "If I were still a samurai," muttered the man, glaring at the merchant's retreating back, "I would have your head for that." He ground his teeth together in anger, then walked back into the stables.