I kicked open the door.
Inside was a large, airy room of white marble held up by polished, stone columns. Sunlight streamed in through huge windows. In the center of the room was a steaming pool of water with marble steps descending into it from all sides.
At the far end of the room was a heavy, black, wooden door with chains drawn across it. It was secured with an iron padlock.
Sitting in the pool were a naked man and an Armanean slave girl. She was slender but fit, with dirty blonde hair hanging thick below her shoulders. Her skin had a deep, healthy tan. She had been standing waist high in the warm water, bathing the man who was up to his chin. He was a skinny, pale creature, utterly unremarkable until that very moment in time.
"Here he is!"
We rushed into the room, weapons ready.
"What! What is the meaning of this!?" He spluttered jumping to his feet.
The tanned slave girl screamed and rushed out of the pool, her body dripping wet. She tried to rush past us, darting from one pillar to the next. Right before she slipped away, Fogrim pulled a bolo from his belt and threw it. She yelped as it wound around her knees and tripped her.
"Guards!" He called out. "Guards! You fools-"
Without taking his eyes off the man, Fogrim went to scoop the squirming girl up under his arm, and advanced on our quarry.
"No one is coming to help you," I said.
Juskar and I grabbed him by his arms and hauled him out of the pool. He tried to resist and I pushed the tip of my blade under his chin.
"Where not here to kill you," I said softly. "Where not even here to hurt you. But this is not going to go well for you if you don't keep still."
"Speak for yourself," Fogrim frowned and cracked his knuckles. "I make no promises to this human filth."
Lukor stared at us like a cornered animal, but became still.
"Answer my questions, Lukor, and will be out of here." I said. "Your name is Lukor, right?"
"No," he said immediately. "I am his lieutenant, Lukor has left on business."
Fogrim put the blonde on the floor and yanked her head back till she cried out.
"Is he Lukor, Slave?" He pressed his boot down in her spine.
"Yes, Master!" She squeaked.
Good SSlave," he let go of her hair. Then he drew his fist back, and punched Lukor right in the nose. There was a loud crack and the man screamed, blood ran freely from his nose.
"Every time you mess with me, he will break something of yours," I said. "Do you understand? I said, do you understand?"
The bleeding man nodded.
"Do you remember a girl named Naya? She was a thief."
"I do not."
Fogrim cracked his knuckles and raised his fist-
"I do not! I do not! I'm not lying!"
"Think again. Dark haired girl, pale skin. A real beauty, fit to kiss the Priest King’s feet. Does that jog your memory?"
"Yes,” His eyes widened. “I remember her. Naya came to me for work. She did not want to be seized by the tax collectors."
"You told her you would get her work with a group of bandits, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Was that what you were really doing?”
“No. I sold her to them. She was a fool to realize that would happen."
“You sold one of your own people,” Fogrim shook his head.
I wondered at how he found this unacceptable, even as he owned several Darfuri slave girls, including the lovely Ashatala who had begged him to free her.
"And it was the bandits who wanted her?” I pressed. “No one else?"
“Yes. No one else."
“Really? No one else had an interest in getting a pale skinned, dark-haired girl, that you could have sold her too?”
“I have answered truthfully.”
I looked to Fogrim and nodded.
Fogrim took Lukor’s hand and bent his pinky back, till it snapped.
We had to wait for the howling and cursing to subside.
"Lukor,” I said at last, “I told you not to fuck with us, Bro’. Whoever you are afraid of," I said over his whimpering, "you should be a lot more afraid of us right now. Now tell me, who is it that you really sold her to?"
“The Servants! The Servants of Yarth-Tanophk!"
"What are they doing with dark haired girls, Lukor? What do they need them for so badly?"
"I do not know, they won't tell me! That's the truth! It's the truth, no don't hurt me!"
I held up my hand to Fogrim. Fogrim looked annoyed but held back.
"How much did they pay you for her?"
"30 gold," he bleated.
Juskar and Fogrim exchange stares.
"30 gold!" Spat Juskar. "Why would they not let it be known they were buying such girls for such a price? All the mines, fields, and kitchens would empty themselves of such girl meat, for half that price!"
"The Servants have let it be known," said Lukor. "Everywhere, they are buying up such females. But, that is not enough for them. Even free women in the slums-or outside the slums-are demanded."
"And you don't know what they're doing with them?"
"No, but I do know that they do not keep them in Ebugal. Every week, they send those they have bought away, on a well-guarded caravan."
"Where does it go?” Asked Fogrim.
“I know not, but it’s direction: the dark haired slaves are sent north."
This puzzled me. The Mi-Go city of Yarth-Tanophk was in the south. What conspiracy the cult was up to that sent them north, instead?
"Five dark haired slave girls were taken from the town's breeding pits," said Fogrim. He held the tanned girl against his leg, one hand locked around her throat, the other gently stroking her hair. She looked down, terrified. "Did you have anything to do with that?"
"No," Lukor shook his head, immediately wincing at the pain. "I was going to steal them, but I told the Servants that I needed more time. They did not want to wait. Before my men could act, I found that the slaves had been stolen. I do not know who they went to; everyone goes through me in this town. Those are my rules."
I was reminded, however unlikely, that this man was a crime boss.
No; how could this man be a crime boss?
Something didn't add up.
"Real nice home you have here," I said, getting up and walking along the pool. "You built all this with your money?"
"Yes-I mean-" he stopped and looked down.
"Go on."
"No," the words rang with defeat. "This is all mine!”
“Funny that that puts your back up. Fogrim, do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“I do not see the point to the question pressed, but nor do I see truth in answer given. Shall I take out his eye?”
“Yes, I think that’s-”
“The Servants built it! This is their gold, not mine!”
"See, that wasn’t so hard. So they own this building?"
"Secretly. In the eyes of the town, and the tax collectors, it is mine. No one else knows of this but you."
I wondered how many other properties the Servants kept hidden through agents like Lukor.
"This is a strange building, and it's much more than you need. It goes up, what, three stories? That would have cost a fortune. Did you ask them for a three-story building?"
"No. And I do not go beyond the second floor. No one dares."
"Why not?"
He indicated towards the black door with the chains across it.
"You would have to ask the Servants. I serve their bidding, and through me, the Servants control Ebugal’s underworld. But that door is barred to me and all my men. It has been under chain since the beginning. No one may enter on pain of death."
"What about when the cultists themselves visit?"
"None may enter on pain of death. They check the lock for mischief, and then go about their business."
I regarded the door.
"Juskar, pass me your club, will you?"
I took his weapon and went over to the door.
“Do not go through there!” yelled Lukor.
The dust was undisturbed around the door and along its chains. I held my hand against the wood: it was cool to the touch and dry as old bone.
"There is something in there!" Lukor called out.
I drew back the club and smashed the padlock.
The sound of tortured metal rang out through the chamber. I raised the club and struck again, three more times. With each blow, the surrounding world seem to go quieter and the clanging became louder in my ears.
What was I doing? I thought to myself.
The padlock snapped and fell to the floor in pieces.
I was committed now.
"Stay here you two," I tugged on the heavy chains. They gave up their hold reluctantly. "Cover this exit and come get me if more trouble turns up."
"How long will you be in there?" Said Fogrim.
"10 minutes? How long could raiding a cult's secret tower, take?"
***
I made my way up the spiral stone stairway.
The walls were dark and damp. Something like moss grew along the sides but it rasped against my fingers, like the shed skin of a snake. I struck a match: it was the tiniest, bravest light in the whole world. I could make out the steps ahead of and behind me, but not much else.
I made my way up the stairway. It was only after I had climbed what must have been five or six flights, that I realized I had climbeu far more than the three to tower warranted.
Fear closed ice cold fingers around my heart.
I was about to turn and go down when I noticed an archway just a few steps ahead. There were carvings along its sides; curling script and symbols. I did not recognize them. I peered at them and felt a stabbing pain between my eyes till I stopped.
A cool breeze blew down at me from through the archway. I quickly cupped my hand around the flickering flame to save it. It burned down anyway. I checked my tinderbox: I was down to just one match.
I struck it, and stepped through the archway.
It opened up to a large, empty, stone hall. There were no slits in the walls for light, yet a cold draft came from somewhere. In the center of the hall was a large plinth of black stone about the size of a 5-girl-at-a-time, slave auction block. I went over to examine it, My boots echoing with each step.
The plinth was shot with green and gold mineral veins. Carved into it were the same carvings and symbols I’d seen on the archway. I felt the sharp stab of a headache and turned my head aside as vertigo hit me.
Trying not to focus on the letters, I looked back at the plinth. It was an impressive structure in its own right, but where was the statue that should have been on it?
The match went out.
I stood there waiting for my eyes to adjust. Presently, I could make out what seemed to be the shapes of the pillars holding up the hall. Reaching out with my hand, I slowly started moving to the edge of the chamber, feeling my way around.
The cool draft became stronger. I saw what seemed to be a walkway in front of me. I stepped onto it-
"Gerard! What are you doing?"
My name struck me like a sledgehammer; I fell backwards in what seemed a blaze of light, and hit my back on the stone floor. The world spun and I threw up my breakfast.
"Friend, are you all right?" Juskar came running up to me.
The room had changed. In front of me was a large opening where I had thought there had been a wall. Sunlight streamed in through it in a solid, sickly, yellow shaft. Stone steps led up to the opening: stone steps I had climbed and been about to step off to my death below.
"Are you all right?" He put his hand down to support my head and pulled out a water skin for me to drink.
"No," I said after taking a gulp, water dripping down my chin and onto my tunic. "I know I said to wait for me, but I'm glad you came."
"We waited for half an hour, then thought it best I come and see."
"Half an hour?" I frowned. "But I've only just got here."
Juskar shook his head.
I looked back out the opening where I had merely died. It opened out onto a view of the town. Low mud roofs stretched out, colored by clothes hanging from laundry lines and tall trees peeping up between walls.
Directly ahead was the ziggurat of the Servants of Yarth-Tanophk.
"Come on," Juskar pulled me to my feet. "We should not stay here. There will be trouble.”
I took a step and almost fell. He put his arm around my shoulder and helped me walk. I took one look back at the ziggurat.
"Everything leads there."
"You must rest, Gerard."
"I'll rest when I'm dead. Take me there."