She was golden skinned, her eyes jade green, and her hair red as flame. She dressed in deer skin and had a bow and quiver strapped to her back. An axe swung from her side.
Aleron, her companion-in-arms and de facto leader of the expedition, asked, ‘Do you have any idea who they are?’
He was a tall man dressed in a mail shirt. Over that he wore a crimson cowl. Once upon a time he had been a warrior-priest of the Order of Kersaises. Now he was a sell sword. He wore the cloak in defiance of his exile.
Lord Cornelius, their employer and self-styled leader of the expedition, asked, ‘Is it your people?’
He was a short, nervous man. He dressed in the fine robes of the Western aristocracy. A scabbard with a duelling sword hung at his side. He did not look like the ideal of a nobleman: tall and aquiline. Instead, he reminded one of a rat.
‘No,’ said Krya. ‘They are not shrinya. They smell human. Or, at least, most of them do. There is a scent of something else.’
‘It must be Count Moravius,’ said Lord Cornelius. ‘He was always jealous of me. I could see him sending his henchmen to steal the treasure away from me.’
‘It could just be bandits,’ said Aleron. ‘This part of the Frontier is crawling with them.’
Lord Cornelius rubbed his hands together nervously and said, ‘How far are we from Iqbehar?’
‘A day’s journey,’ replied Krya.
‘We are that close?’ replied Cornelius.
‘It is not a lost city,’ said Aleron. ‘Traders pass by it all the time. It is just that no one goes into it. For one thing, it is just ruins. Besides, it is supposed to be haunted. Considering it was built by the Malrean Empire, it probably is. It has a nasty reputation.’
‘I’m surprise the treasure has not been taken,’ said Cornelius.
‘Those who go into the city do not always return. Those who do return tend to mention the feeling of being watched. Besides, you claim to be the only one who knows where the Heart of Iqbehar is hidden.’
‘I am,’ said Cornelius. ‘Still, I think we should get there before Count Moravius does.’
‘If it is Moravius that is following us,’ replied Aleron. ‘It is probably bandits. Still, if it is, they may not dare to enter Iqbehar. At least we should be able to see them coming once we leave the forest.’
‘All right, then. Let’s move on out,’ said Lord Cornelius to the rest of their expedition. He did not notice that the men looked at Aleron for confirmation. Aleron nodded. They were rough-hewed men from Freetown who traditionally had little use for the aristocrats of the West.
They trekked through the dense forest. By nightfall, they came within sight of Iqbehar. Towers of black stone reached toward the stars. A giant wall surrounded it. Everywhere vines covered the whole city.
‘We should camp here for the night,’ said Aleron.
‘Why not go inside?’ said Lord Cornelius. ‘We are here.’
‘It is late. It will be easier to explore in daylight.’
Aleron did not say he feared what might be inside. The Malreans had been an inhuman race of sorcerers. They had come from an island in the North and with their black magic had conquered the fledgling human kingdoms. For a millennium, they kept the entire continent under their iron heel. Eventually their subjects, led by the warrior-priests of Kersaises, broke their yokes and drove them back North.
They made camp. The night darkened. Stars appeared in the sky. A crescent moon arose over the horizon.
When the moon was high in the sky, their stalkers attacked the camp. They appeared out of the dark woods with swords drawn. They ripped apart the tents only to find them empty.
‘Let fly!’ screamed Krya from behind a tree. Arrows flew through the air. Many of the stalkers fell to the ground with shafts sticking out of them. Aleron led a charge of men wielding swords and axes out of the woods. The stalkers were soon overcome.
When the battle was done, only two of the attackers were left alive. One was a short fat man dressed in silk robes. Aleron knew this to be Count Moravius. The other he knew not but he could tell by the bone white skin and coal-black eyes that he was a Malrean. He wore black armour and held a large two-handed sword.
‘Don’t harm me! We surrender,’ shouted Moravius.
The Malrean looked about, shrugged, and planted the point of his sword into the earth. His eyes were solid black. There was no iris or sclera. When he looked into the Malrean’s eyes, Aleron felt like he was staring into an abyss.
Lord Cornelius, who had not taken part in the battle, walked into the camp. He stared with disgust at the dead bodies on the ground. Then he saw Moravius and smiled.
‘Well, looks like I got you,’ he said. He pulled his slender duelling sword from his scabbard and pointed it at Moravius. ‘What should I do with you?’
‘He’s surrendered,’ said Aleron. ‘We will bind his hands and take him with us.’
Cornelius sheathed his sword.
‘What about the Malrean?’ asked one of Aleron’s men. ‘We should slay him. They all deserve it.’
‘No,’ said Aleron. ‘He’s surrendered. I will not kill unnecessarily. Bind him!’
The man stared at Aleron for a moment, but then left to get ropes.
‘Aleron, you may want to reconsider,’ said Krya. ‘It would be safer to just kill him.’
‘No,’ said Aleron simply.
They bound the two prisoners. Then they buried the bodies. Aleron said a simple prayer. Then they rested.
When the sun was high in the sky, they entered the city. Beyond the great wall, they found a labyrinth of streets and alleys. Vines covered the ruined buildings. Lord Cornelius took out an ancient map.
‘We are looking for the Tower of the Hierarchs,’ he said, examining the ancient parchment. ‘It should be in the centre of the city. There we will find the Heart of Iqbehar.’
They followed Lord Cornelius down the winding road. Behind him came Aleron, then Krya, followed by the rest of the men of the expedition with the two prisoners.
As they walked, Aleron kept his hand on his sword though he knew not why. He scanned the crumbling buildings as they passed. He kept expecting to see someone or something moving among the ruins, but there was nothing. They eventually came to a boulevard lined with statues of Malrean warriors dressed in armour.
‘Are these idols?’ asked Krya.
‘We have no gods,’ said the Malrean, whose name they had learned was Kentos. ‘Only the weak need gods.’
They continued on through the boulevard. Aleron stopped at one the statues and examined it. It was incredibly lifelike. Lord Cornelius came up to him.
‘Whatever else the Malreans were, they were exquisite artists,’ he said. ‘I have many Malrean works of art. That’s how I found the map.’
‘I grant them their sense of aesthetics,’ said Aleron. ‘But they had no real ethics or mercy. They used to make collages with the inner organs of their slaves.’
‘We honoured them by giving them a meaningful death,’ said Kentos.
‘Come on,’ said Krya. ‘Let’s get the treasure and get out.’
‘Forceful woman,’ said Cornelius. ‘How did the two of you meet?’
‘After I was exiled from my order for reasons I won’t go into, I became a sell-sword. Krya’s tribe had been wiped out by plague and warfare. She lost everyone, including her husband and child. Her heart hardened. She claims to care for no one and yet when she found me wounded on a battlefield she nursed me back to health. We have been together ever since.’
‘She’s a complex one.’
‘Aren’t we all?’
As they left the boulevard, Aleron turned to look back. He stared at the statue which seemed to stare back at him. He turned and went on.
‘Krya,’ he said. ‘Do you sense anything?’
‘There is no scent of any living thing in this ruin, but I sense it too. We are not alone.’
They continued until noon. Then they stopped at another boulevard with more statues. It seemed identical to the one before. They took out cured meats and wine gourds. Lord Cornelius pored over the map.
‘It is amazing how much this is like the other one,’ he said.
‘It’s not identical,’ said Aleron. ‘These statues are turned to the centre. The others were facing outward.’
He heard a hideous laugh. It came from the Malrean.
‘What is so humorous?’
‘Nothing,’ said Kentos.
‘We should be near the Tower,’ said Lord Cornelius. ‘We should actually see it.’
‘None of the towers look near,’ said Krya.
‘You’re lost,’ said Count Moravius. ‘The great expert on Malrean culture is lost.’
‘I followed the map exactly,’ said Cornelius. ‘Besides, I still know more than you.’
After they ate and drank, they set out again. The lanes continued to turn like a serpent. Once again they came to a boulevard. This time the statues stared at them as they came. Their expressions were fierce. They seemed to grip their weapons tightly.
‘This should not be here,’ said Cornelius.
‘Krya,’ said Aleron. ‘You have the best sense of direction. Any ideas on how we got lost?’
‘How am I supposed to know?’ she replied. ‘I was born and bred on the plains. I never liked cities. You know that.’
‘It’s toying with you,’ said Kentos merrily.
‘What’s toying with us?’ asked Krya.
‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ said the Malrean.
‘Perhaps we should camp here until we figure out what is going on,’ said Aleron.
‘I don’t like it here,’ said Krya. ‘I don’t like these statues.’
Aleron looked at the statues. Despite or even because of their exquisite craftsmanship, they were eerie. They seemed angry at the trespassing.
‘Neither do I,’ said Aleron. ‘But we should not continue until we figure out where we are.’
‘This is getting boring,’ said Kentos to seemingly no one. ‘You have had your fun. Now untie me.’
Then he spoke a single word. Aleron recognised it as the Black Speech that sorcerers used. Aleron cursed himself for leaving Kentos ungagged. He should have realised that any Malrean would know at least some sorcery.
There was a scraping sound. Aleron turned and saw one of the statues move. Slowly, it stepped down from its platform. It was followed by the others.
‘I hate sorcery,’ said Krya as she notched an arrow. She let fly, but the arrow bounced harmlessly off the statue.
Aleron drew his sword but, instead of attacking the statue, he turned and rushed at Kentos. The Malrean spoke another word. The cobblestones rose like a wave and threw him back.
The statues attacked. They brought their stone swords down, crushing skulls. Krya swung her axe at one only for it to shatter against hard stone.
‘We can’t fight these things,’ she shouted. ‘Run!’
Two of the men left alive ran towards an alleyway. Once in, the buildings on both sides closed in upon them. There were screams and the sound of bones being crushed.
All around them buildings began to move. Vines tore as they did so. They closed in, forming a wall around them. The statues continued their grim work of smashing skulls.
The statues turned toward Aleron and Krya. She hissed. Her claws extended. She leapt in animalistic fury at the nearest statue. With a wide swing of its sword, it knocked her aside while in the air. She crumpled on the ground.
‘Enough,’ said Kentos. ‘Leave the others alive. We may need them later.’
The statues stopped. Kentos had managed to get his hands free during the slaughter. He took his sword back from the corpse of the man who had kept it.
Aleron went over to where Krya lay. He bent his head to her chest to listen for a heartbeat. He shook his head.
‘She’s dead,’ he told Kentos. ‘I’ll have your head for this.’
‘I think not. I would surrender if I were you.’ Knowing it was futile, Aleron sheathed his sword. One of the statues came over and took it from him and then threw it on the ground.
‘You spared me so I owe you,’ said Kentos. ‘I will keep you alive to see the treasure. Then I will kill you.’
He looked over at Lord Cornelius who had been frozen in sheer horror. He walked over to him and hit with an open hand blow. He said, ‘Come on. I’ll need you later.’
‘Good work,’ said Moravius to the Malrean. ‘I’m glad I hired you. Now untie me.’
‘I am afraid not. I am sorry, your lordship, but I can no longer continue my employment,’ said Kentos.
‘What?’
‘You see, I needed your wealth to fund this expedition. But now I no longer need you.
‘Bind them,’ he said to the statues.
Bound, they were led out of the boulevard. With a loud crashing sound, the buildings opened up revealing a straight road leading to a tall black tower.
It was the Tower of the Hierarchs.
As they walked down the long road, Aleron stared at the buildings around him. They seemed to stare back. Their windows were great eyes. Their doors were mouths.
Eventually, they came to the Tower. It reached high up to the blue sky. It was a great sword blade aimed at the heart of God. Its great door opened as if by invisible hands.
‘This city is alive,’ he said.
‘You are only now realising that?’ said Kentos.
‘How is that possible?’
‘Well,’ said Kentos. ‘It goes back to the founding of the city. Do you know of Iqbehar? Not the city we are in, but the person?’
‘He was one of your sorcerer kings. The city was named after him.’
‘In fact, he founded it,’ replied Kentos. ‘He named it after himself. We Malreans are not known for false modesty. Though he did more than just build it. Iqbehar the city and Iqbehar the person are one and the same.’
‘What?’
‘When the city was built, it was meant to be a new capital for the Malrean Empire. He was to rule not only the West, but to conquer the East as well. However, that did not work out.’
‘I know. The shrinya in the East fought back. Maybe you could have conquered them, but the human kingdoms in the West revolted. You could not fight a war on two fronts and lost.’
‘Sadly, yes. Though the real reason was that we had grown decadent.’
‘You were always decadent.’
‘Ha, maybe so. But we had begun to spend more time pursuing the pleasures of the flesh than the healthy pleasure of conquest and subjugation. When we had conquered your race, we had believed only in our own strength. That is where our virtue lives.’
Aleron was quiet. Then he said, ‘Strength is a virtue, yes, but it has to be used for a higher purpose than your own self-aggrandisement. Your sin and your weakness has always been your pride.’
‘You are quite the priest. Ready with a sermon at a moment’s notice. Either way, Iqbehar was a sorcerer of some renown. He wanted to rule his city and empire for eternity. To achieve this, he cast a spell that would link his…I guess you would call it his soul…to the city. This was fortuitous since not long after that the city was destroyed.’
‘And his soul has inhabited the ruins for over a thousand years?’
‘Yes,’ said Kentos. ‘He spent a thousand years in these stone walls. By now, he is quite mad.’
‘And what do you want from this city?’ said Aleron.
‘You want the treasure,’ said Lord Cornelius who had been silent up to now.
‘Yes, I plan to use it to rebuild the Malrean Empire. With the treasure, I’ll make Iqbehar my capital. Come along now.’
They entered the Tower. The air inside was stale. Dust covered the floor. Cobwebs were strung from the ceiling. In the centre was a great stone stairway. It twisted up to the top of the Tower.
As they got near it, Aleron noticed that it also went down. He remembered that most cities built by the Malreans had catacombs where they buried their dead among other things.
‘You go down first,’ said Kentos with his sword pointed at the prisoners. ‘If I know my ancestors they probably set some traps for intruders.’
Leaving the living statues behind, they went down into the dark. Kentos spoke a single word and a ball of flame appeared. It floated ahead of them as they descended into the crypts.
How far and for how long they descended, Aleron knew not. His thoughts were of the teachings of his religion. He had been taught that after death sinners were thrown into a great abyss where demons tormented them.
According to the old tales, the Malreans had trafficked with these demons.
As they went down, Aleron noticed thin veins of silver running through the black walls. He stopped to examine them.
‘Those are Iqbehar’s nerves,’ said Kentos. ‘All the buildings are connected by them. Think of the buildings as his extremities: his hands and feet. These connect them to the Heart of Iqbehar.’
They continued on through the catacombs. Eventually, they came to a large underground auditorium. At its centre was a great pit. Overhanging the pit was a ledge. Kentos lead them to its edge. They looked down. In the middle of the pit was what looked like an altar.
‘I thought you had no gods?’ said Aleron.
‘We don’t,’ replied Kentos. ‘At least, we don’t abase ourselves before invisible beings like you do. However, we do make sacrifices to ourselves, our city, and our race. Come along. I’ll show you.’
He took them down into the pit. They went up to the altar. On it was an engraved outline of a human form. At the outlines neck was a hole. Aleron assumed these were for the sacrifice’s blood.
‘Moravius, lay down on the altar,’ said Kentos.
‘I don’t want to,’ said Moravius.
Kentos pointed his great sword at Moravius. He told him, ‘Do it or I will take your head.’
Reluctantly, Moravius climbed onto the altar. As Kentos ordered, he lay down. He trembled with fear.
‘Kentos,’ he said. ‘Don’t do this. I can pay you. I can give you anything you want. Gold! Gems! Slaves!’
‘I will have all that in time,’ said Kentos, lifting his sword. ‘When I am Emperor of the reborn Malrean Empire. Until then Iqbehar is hungry. You see, if the buildings outside are his hands, this is his mouth. He used to feast on the blood of slaves, but that was over a thousand years ago and he is very hungry.’
He brought the sword down. Blood ran into the hole. The Tower began to tremble with delight.
Krya awoke in pain. It was torment to breathe; her ribs were broken. If she had been as fragile as a human, the blow would have probably killed her. As it was, she had been knocked unconscious.
She had been aware enough when Aleron had announced her death. Though he would protest that he was a simple priest, Aleron had always been cunning. He had whispered to her to play dead and later escape. Then darkness consumed her.
Slowly, agonisingly, she pushed herself up. She looked around. The boulevard was empty. The living statues were gone, as was Aleron. The buildings stood still as if they were waiting for something. Whatever curse was on the city, it did not seem to be active now.
Krya, born a nomad of the plains, had always hated cities. This one was just worse than usual.
She stood then walked over to where her bow and quiver were and strapped them on her back. Not far away Aleron’s sword lay on the ground. She looked at it.
Aleron had told her to escape. He would not blame her for doing so. As for Lord Cornelius, she had never liked him and felt she owed him nothing. She should just flee the city.
She sighed, picked up Aleron’s sword, and headed deeper into the city.
When Moravius was dead and the city had eaten, Aleron asked, ‘Are we next?’
‘Yes,’ said Kentos, ‘But not right now. Moravius’s blood was just to satisfy its hunger. He needs blood to recover his full powers, but it would have to be when the stars are right. There should be cells down here. I’ll take you to one.’
He pointed his bloody sword at them and led them to a doorway on the other side of the auditorium. Kentos always made sure to stay far enough away to keep Aleron from rushing him. Not that Aleron could do much with his hands bound.
‘Before you lock us up,’ said Aleron. ‘May I ask, if this city is alive, does it have a heart? Or a brain?’
‘Yes, it does,’ said Kentos. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Curiosity.’
‘No, I don’t think so. People are not curious about these things when they know they are going to die. You are trying to learn something that might be useful to you. Why?’
‘If the city is alive, then it can be slain. I want to know how.’
‘Maybe it could, but I’m not going to give you the chance.’
They had come to another tunnel. Lord Cornelius looked at the ground. He whispered to Aleron, ‘Step only where I step.’
Aleron did so. He put his feet only on the same stones that Cornelius stepped on. Kentos did not. A stone sank beneath his foot.
‘Jump,’ said Cornelius and leapt forward. Aleron followed after.
There was a grinding sound and spikes projected from the ceiling. They crashed down between the prisoners and Kentos. The Malrean cursed. The spikes had nearly impaled him. He had barely leapt back in time.
Aleron and Cornelius took off running into the darkness ahead of them. From behind the spikes, Kentos screamed oaths.
They did not know where they were running to. Eventually, Cornelius stopped suddenly. Aleron crashed into him. In the dark, he heard Cornelius’s heavy breathing.
‘How did you know about the spikes?’ said Aleron, panting.
‘It was on the map,’ said Cornelius. ‘Fortunately, Kentos had not bothered to look at it. Moravius might have known, but he’s dead. Come on. I can see a light up ahead.’
They walked down the tunnel toward a crimson glow. As they got closer, it got brighter, enveloping everything in red. Eventually, they came to a large chamber. On a dais in the centre sat a great red jewel. The crimson light shone from the jewel which seemed to pulse with life.
‘We’ve found it,’ said Cornelius. ‘The Heart of Iqbehar.’
They entered. There were gold coins scattered on the ground. On the walls were carved strange symbols. They covered the entire chamber. Some Aleron recognised as ancient Malrean; others were completely alien to him.
Cornelius walked up to the dais. On it was writing. He spoke out loud as he read it, ‘Behold the Heart of Iqbehar.’
Aleron knew then what he had to do.
As Krya reached the Tower of the Hierarchs, the buildings closed in around her. They made a wall of black stone cutting off any chance of retreat. From the great tower emerged the stone warriors.
Though she knew it was useless, she pulled an arrow from her quiver. She notched her bow and aimed at the nearest. As she pulled the arrow and string back, pain shot through her.
She let fly. The arrow flew through the air and struck the moving statue. It clattered on the ground harmlessly. The statues continued toward Krya.
‘Damn this city,’ she muttered.
As the lead statue marched closer, it raised its stone sword. Then it brought it down. Krya barely had time to leap to the side. More pain shot through her. The statue turned once again, raising its sword. Krya drew Aleron’s sword from its sheath. The statue swung its stone blade, shattering the sword.
Krya threw the broken sword on the ground. Part of her wanted to flee, but there was nowhere to run to. Another part wanted to fight, but she knew it was futile. The stone statue came at her again.
Then there was a great rumbling. Krya at first thought it was an earthquake, but she realised it was not the ground that was shaking. It was only the road and the buildings. Then suddenly it stopped. All was quiet. The statues no longer marched.
The city was dead.
Glowing red shards covered the ground. What had been the Heart of Iqbehar had shattered when Aleron had knocked it off the dais with a kick. As the city’s death spasm had run through the Tower, Aleron and Cornelius had fallen to their knees.
‘You destroyed it!’ said Cornelius. ‘You destroyed the treasure of Iqbehar. All that work; all that travel; all the suffering I went through and you destroyed it.’
Aleron ignored him and crawled across the floor to the nearest shard. Turning, he grabbed it with his bound hands. Sharp as broken glass, he used it to cut his ropes.
‘I’ll untie you,’ he told Cornelius.
‘How could you?’
Aleron bent over Cornelius as he untied his hands. ‘That was the heart of the city. By destroying it, I sent Iqbehar to his just punishment. I had to do it to stop Kentos.’
Cornelius, his hands now free, rubbed his wrists, ‘But it was the entire reason we came here. We could have just taken it with us.’
‘Think,’ said Aleron. ‘Iqbehar would have stopped us from doing that. It would have killed us.’
‘You don’t understand,’ said Cornelius. ‘My father died in debt. It was the only way to save my ancestral home.’
‘You could not do that if you were dead,’ said Aleron. ‘Anyway, we now have to deal with Kentos.’
Krya followed Aleron’s scent into the catacombs. The dark surrounded her. Though her night vision was better than any human’s, she could see nothing. She mostly navigated by scent and touch.
As she descended, the catacombs brightened. She came to the auditorium. It was lit up enough to see. She walked down the stairs into the great pit. On an altar sat Kentos next to the body of Moravius. A ball of flame floated above him.
‘So you are still alive,’ said the Malrean. ‘The priest must have lied. Most unpriestlike if you ask me.’
‘Aleron’s noble not foolish,’ said Krya. ‘Most of the time, anyway.’
‘And you?’
‘I’m a damned fool for coming after him,’ she replied. ‘But he’d do the same for me.’
‘I suppose he would,’ said Kentos. ‘By the way, I seem to have lost them in these tunnels. I suppose you could lead me to him by scent. Why don’t you switch sides?’
‘Why would I join you?’
‘I could make it more profitable. I know where the city’s treasures are kept.’
‘It’s a tempting offer,’ said Krya. ‘But instead, I think I will just torture it out of you.’
‘Really,’ Kentos smiled. ‘You don’t look like you are in any shape to take me.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Krya. She pulled an arrow from her quiver. Before she could let fly, Kentos pointed his finger at her and the ball of flame flew forward. Instinctively, Krya dodged, but the ball of flame struck her bow. It caught fire. She threw it to the ground.
Kentos drew his sword from behind his back.
Krya crouched. Her claws extended. She hissed, baring her fangs.
‘Animal,’ said Kentos as he swung the great sword at her. She ducked under. Kentos pulled the blade back but kept it pointed at Krya.
‘You are injured. You can’t beat me.’
‘You called me an animal. Well, an animal is fiercest when injured.’
Kentos thrust the great blade at her. Krya dodged aside and then followed up with a rush inside Kentos’ guard. Her claws raked the Malrean’s face. Kentos screamed in pain.
Krya kept moving forward, tackling Kentos, and slamming him to the ground. She pinned his arms. Her shadow was cast over his bleeding face. She said, ‘Tell me where the treasure is or I will rip your throat out with my teeth.’
Kentos said a single word, ‘Come.’
The shadow over Kentos lengthened. Krya rolled aside just as the ball of fire flashed toward her. It struck Kentos, enveloping his body in flame. He screamed as he writhed in pain.
It was that screaming and the light of the burning body that drew Aleron and Lord Cornelius. By the time they got there, the body had stopped writhing. Kentos was dead.
‘Ghastly,’ said Aleron. Lord Cornelius turned and vomited.
‘Aleron, are you all right?’ asked Krya
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You look like you’ve been through hell.’
‘Everything in me hurts,’ she said. She was slumped against the altar. Aleron came over and gently put his arm around her. She put hers around his neck and Aleron raised her up. Leaning on him, they walked toward the tunnel. Lord Cornelius followed.
‘What’s that in your hand?’ she asked.
‘It’s a shard from the Heart of Iqbehar. I had to shatter it to slay the city. It is worthless now, but I was using it for a torch. It just went dark. Iqbehar, the sorcerer not the city, his soul was in there. I believe his soul has passed on now.’
‘So no treasure?’ said Krya.
‘I won’t be able to keep my lands,’ moaned Lord Cornelius.
‘There is gold back there,’ said Aleron. ‘Not a lot, but some. This is a big city. There should be other treasure vaults. We have all the time in the world to look for it. Besides, we are alive. That’s what matters.’
They had reached the mouth of the tunnel. They walked up the stairs into the tower’s great hall. They left the tower and stepped out of the corpse of Iqbehar.
