* * *
The ruins of the shore temple were half-submerged in the waters west of Unta Bay. Its broken columns stood in the waves as mere barnacle-encrusted humps. Though an easy day's ride from Unta, this shore was a deserted stretch of rearing cliff-sides home to no more than water-birds and sea otters. A short fat man in a dark ocean-blue cloak carefully picked his way down the treacherous turning footpath that traced a way to the base of the cliff.
Reaching the rocky shore, he dabbed the sheen of sweat from his wide face then pulled a folding camp stool of wood and leather from under his cloak and sat with a weary sigh just short of the misting sea-spray.
Fanning himself, the man addressed the surf: ‘Come now! This coyness achieves nothing.’
Though the waves had been pounding the tumbled rocks at the base of the cliff, the surf stilled, subsiding. The water seemed almost to withdraw. The man cocked his head as if listening to the splashing as one might a voice. And a voice spoke, though few else living would have understood it. ‘You compelled, Mallick?’ came the response sounding from the gurgle and murmur of the waves.
Mallick Rel wiped spots of spray from his cloak. ‘Indeed. What news of the mercenaries?’
‘Their ships converge.’
‘And upon those ships – there are Avowed, yes?’
‘Yes. I sense their presence. What will you do, Mallick, when they come for you?’
‘They will not live long enough.’
A chuckled response, ‘Perhaps it is you who will not live long enough.’
‘I have my guardians, and you have no idea what they are capable of.’
‘You are transparent to me, Mallick. It is you who has no idea of what your guardians are capable. I know this for should you have the slightest inkling you would have come begging for deliverance.’
‘Kellanved had his army of undead, the Imass.’
‘A common misconception – they never died. They were … preserved. Regardless, even they would not tolerate either them – or you.’
‘Fortunately, these Imass are no threat to anyone any longer.’
The voice of splashing and whispering water was silent for a time, then came a wondering ‘How brief the memory of humans.’
Mallick gave a languid wave. ‘Yes, yes. In any case, we were discussing the mercenaries. Do not attempt to deflect me.’
‘Of the Guard, their end has not yet been foreseen.’
‘Do not lie to your High Priest, Mael. It is only through the rituals of Jhistal that you yet have a presence here in the world.’
The water stilled, smoothing to glass. A bulge rose swelling to a broad pillar of water. It wavered, fighting to lean forward towards the seated man, then burst in a great rushing crash. ‘And so the bindings hold,’ came the voice again. ‘Rituals so awful, Mallick, even Kellanved was revolted. Regrettable that some of you escaped.’
The man's thick lips drew down in mock pain. ‘Struck to the core, I am. How can you name your own worship revolting? Shall more innocents have their innards splashed out upon you? Or do you resist?’
‘None of your acts are of my choosing, Mallick. You and your cult pursued your own interests. Not mine.’
‘As is true for all worship. But enough theology, diverting though it may be. When the mercenary ships head for Quon you must rush their passage. They must make Quon with all speed. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘And speed the ships of the secessionists.’
‘You would have me hurry their progress as well?’
‘Yes.’
More chuckling echoed among the rocks. ‘Mallick – you disgust and amaze me. I wonder who of them will get your head first.’
‘I am not dismayed. It is a sure sign of success when everyone wants your head.’