Rise of a Merchant Prince

And that aspect would have been frightening at the light of noon.

 

The rear wall was cut to form a statue of heroic proportion. A regal-looking woman sat atop a throne, a figure measuring over one hundred feet from toe to crown. Her robes flowed down from her shoulders, leaving her breasts bare. In two arms she held life-size creatures, one obviously Pantathian, the other resembling the Saaur, though of smaller stature than any Saaur Erik had seen. The entire statue was green, as if cut from the largest single piece of jade in the universe.

 

Before her a huge pit yawned, and Erik picked his way through the litter of bodies to glance downward. “Gods!” he whispered.

 

He couldn’t begin to estimate the number of humans who must have gone into that pit to fill it, because he had no concept of the depth. But just from what he could see, it had been a staggering population. Then he realized the dark railing wasn’t that color from paint or stain but from generations of human blood.

 

Boldar came forward and said, “This begs repayment. I thought you a rather cold-blooded crew when Miranda told me where we were headed and why, but now I understand why you must destroy these creatures.”

 

“This is only a part of it,” said Calis from behind. He pointed to cases used to display artifacts arrayed on both sides of the huge statue. “There. That is where we must go.”

 

Erik looked around. He didn’t much like the idea of attempting to walk across the mountain of bones. Then he spied an entrance near the base of the pit. “Maybe that way?”

 

Calis nodded. “You, Boldar, and Miranda, with me.” To de Loungville he said, “Spread out the men and search. Anything that looks as if it might be remotely important is to be carried back here.”

 

Miranda said, “But carefully. Do not let alien devices or objects come into contact with one another.”

 

Boldar echoed that. “There can be nasty consequences if the wrong sorts of magic come into contact.”

 

De Loungville ordered the men to spread out, and torches were distributed so the men could have more light to inspect the ruins of this temple. Calis led the others to the small door Erik had seen, and it was indeed an access to the altar, so that they could get to the huge idol without crossing the pit.

 

As they reached the large dais upon which the idol sat, Calis motioned for Boldar and Erik to stand back while he and Miranda cautiously approached the nearest case. Looking like nothing so much as bookcases, thought Erik, these were fashioned of stone, blackened by what he knew now to be centuries of human blood. He saw Miranda and Calis were indifferent to the cases. They studied the items displayed within them.

 

Erik didn’t see anything remarkable about any of them; they mostly consisted of jewelry, a few weapons, and some other nondescript items. But Calis and Miranda approached them as if they were repositories of evil.

 

Quietly they looked, moving toward the cases and away, then barely touching them. Suddenly Calis said, “They are wrong!”

 

Miranda said, “Are you certain?”

 

“As I know my own heritage!” He picked up a dagger and said, “The helm that we carry brings sounds, tastes, ancient visions. There is nothing of that here.”

 

Miranda took another weapon, and examined it, then she tossed the shortsword to Erik, hilt first, and said, “Von Darkmoor: strike something.”

 

Erik glanced around, and saw nothing close by that looked a likely target. He moved to the other side of the huge idol and struck the edge of one of the large stone cases. The sword shattered as if it had been fashioned of base metal.

 

“Not very well made,” said Erik inspecting the hilt still in his hand. Having been a smith for years, he said, “The blade wasn’t even steel.”

 

Calis knelt and picked up a piece of shattered metal. “It wasn’t supposed to be steel. It was supposed to have been something . . . far more deadly.”

 

 

 

Erik tossed away the hilt.

 

Calis moved around the statue, inspecting it. “This is supposed to be the Green Mother of All,” he said quietly. “In a strange fashion, she would be my aunt.”

 

Erik’s eyes widened slightly, and he glanced at Miranda and Boldar. Miranda watched Calis’s face closely, as if she were anxious about something. Boldar returned Erik’s questioning glance with a shrug.

 

Miranda said, “These are . . . stage properties.” She waved her hand at the artifacts in the cases. “It’s as if a company of actors were staging this.” She looked around the vast hall. “This is a theater more than a temple.”

 

Boldar looked at the carnage on the floor and the bones in the pit. “The murder is real enough.”

 

Calis said, “Look here.”

 

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