The trees were scrawny and parched, and the brothers knew that finding fresh water might be a problem. The brush was dry and cracked when they stepped on it, so both moved slowly and with great care.
Finally they reached a small clearing where an extrusion of stone formed a ridge. They peered over the edge and Gulamendis whispered, ‘Merciful ancestors!’
As far as the eye could see fires ranged, organized so that strict lines of flame defined areas of the camp. Many figures rested around the blazes and the Demon Master tugged at his brother’s sleeve.
They moved back, away from the edge into the relative shelter of the trees. It had been these fires illuminating the sky the night before, the light had not come from one small fire nearby, the gloom had been pierced by hundreds of distant fires.
‘It’s the Legion,’ whispered Gulamendis.
Laromendis said, ‘Where are we?’ As soon as he asked, he knew it was a stupid question, for his brother had no more knowledge of their whereabouts than he did.
They exchanged silent looks holding the same understanding: they were on the world being used by the Demon Legion as a staging ground. The demons below them were unlike any they had seen or fought before: armed, organized and resting before the invasion. About them lay a calm entirely unnatural for demons, it was frightening; and from their organization, the Legion would be moving soon.
Finally Gulamendis said, ‘There is one good thing about this.’
‘Really?’ asked his brother, his eyes widening.
‘If they’re here, and if they plan to invade Home, it means they have a way to get there.’
‘A Demon gate?’
‘They must,’ said the Demon Master. ‘We just need to find it and get through it before they do.’
His brother shook his head. Words failed him.
CHAPTER SEVEN - Queg
TRUMPETS SOUNDED.
James Dasher Jamison, Baron of the Prince’s Court, Envoy Extraordinary of the Kingdom of the Isles, occasional diplomat and full time spy turned to his companions; Pug, Magnus, and Amirantha were dressed as scholars, wearing light tan robes and sandals.
‘One more time,’ he said.
Pug smiled, but Magnus and Amirantha looked annoyed.
‘One more time,’ he repeated. ‘These stories must be the first thing you think of should you be faced with unexpected questions.
Pug looked at his son and the Warlock, and said, ‘I am Richard, a historian from the Royal Court of Rillanon. I have lived there for years.’ Pug had spent enough time in the capital city over the last hundred years to easily describe most of the famous aspects of the ‘Jewelled City,’ and its recent politics had occupied all discussion between the four of them as they sailed from Krondor to Queg.
‘I am his first student, Martin,’ said Magnus. ‘I have recently come to the capital and am still finding my way around.’ Unlike his father, Magnus had spent relatively little time in Rillanon, so the identity chosen for him would serve that fact. ‘I originally came from Yabon.’ He knew that area very well.
Both father and son looked at Amirantha who said, ‘I am Amirantha, a scholar from the distant city of Maharta. I have a royal patent from the Maharaja of Muboya, courtesy of General Kaspar, First Minister to the Maharaja, commissioning me to learn all I can about the nations of Triagia, and I am collecting histories toward that end.’
‘Try to look a little more enthusiastic about it,’ said Jim.
‘Shouldn’t we get up on deck?’ asked Magnus.
Jim smiled. ‘Quegan protocol dictates we keep them waiting for at least another five minutes, ten would be better. Quegans are an odd people: they favour self-aggrandizement, to the point that they consider even the Imperial Keshian Court “degenerate,” and see themselves as the true inheritors of all things magnificent and imperial. They would seem silly if it wasn’t for that irritatingly large navy they insist on sailing all over the Bitter Sea. That earns them a great deal of respect they otherwise wouldn’t enjoy. Their position as something of a balance-shifter here in the west keeps them more or less at peace with their neighbours, but should the cause arise that unites the Free Cities, Kesh, and the Kingdom, we’d happily obliterate this island.’ He said the last with a cheerful expression.
‘But then you’d have another war over who got to keep the island,’ said Amirantha with a wry expression.
‘Oh, I’d be happy to let Pug and some of his compatriots just sink it.’ He looked at the magician. ‘You could manage that, couldn’t you?’