The Tower of Bashan (29 page)

Rondel didn’t agree with everything Andrasta said, but he saw her point even if he hated the way it tasted going down. “Fine. Another time.”

Once inside the entranceway, Andrasta barred the exterior door with collected spears and swords looped through the handles. They removed their packs and got to work.

Rondel tasked Andrasta to look at the left wall, while he started on the right. He instructed Lela to examine the floors. Though no glyphs were etched there, he thought something might be hidden.

Time moved rapidly in the enclosed space, as did Rondel. He found himself back at the massive granite doors much faster than he would have thought and still not in possession of the key.

“Any luck?”

Andrasta shook her head.

“Lela?”

The girl looked up from the floor. “Nothing.”

He swore, turning to Andrasta. “All right. Let’s switch sides to make sure nothing was missed.”

A loud thud shook the door. The spears and swords Andrasta had jammed into the handles rattled. Shouts from outside followed the first impact as well as the next.

Rondel swore. “Nevermind. Andrasta, keep looking for the key. Lela, drag our packs over here. I’ll have to get started with what we have.”

He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, cursing his bad hand. He reached inside and grabbed the notes against his chest, flipping to the information about the frame and lock.

“Isn’t it dangerous to start without all the information?” called Andrasta as she ran to the wall he’d checked, frantically searching.

“Could be deadly,” answered Rondel. A boom sounded, followed by another. “But that is certainly deadly.”

The pounding at the door fell into a rhythm. Rondel blocked it out as he began working the door’s frame. He touched glyphs in a way that probably appeared random, yet there was nothing random about the process. In fact, he couldn’t touch the applicable glyph just anywhere and expect them to activate. Each had to be tapped on a certain portion of the picture, otherwise the sequence would not take. Rondel knew he pressed correctly when the golden granite briefly twinkled like a distant star.

Now the hard part.

He stood before the massive lock, a block of solid stone protruding from the door more than a foot. He studied his notes, then the lock, then his notes again.

“Andrasta?”

“Just a minute more.”

Shafts from the spears began to crack as another blow struck the doors.

“We don’t have a minute. Get over here and grab the packs. Lela?”

“Here.”

He looked down. “Stay close.”

She nodded.

Rondel took a deep breath and began the sequence he felt most confident in.

Nothing happened.

He swore and tried a different sequence, changing two of the glyphs. “I think that’s it.”

The markings glowed brightly, then faded. The lock didn’t move. A small hissing sound came at the room’s edges.

Andrasta investigated, moving closer to the wall with her torch. “Smoke.” She coughed and backed away quickly. “It smells awful.”

“Don’t breath it!” said Rondel. “It’s probably poisonous. I did something wrong.”

The hissing grew in volume as the smoke entered the room faster than before. The pounding from the door continued. Spear shafts broke. The swords jammed through the handles rattled loudly with more room to move about.

He almost tried another sequence, changing three glyphs instead of two from the original pattern he attempted. Instinct stopped him and he reconsidered.

He stared at the patterns. The shaded half circle, a symbol of the eclipse, caught his eye. A thought struck him. “Lela, come here. Hold my notes in front of the torchlight so it doesn’t shine on the glyphs directly. I think the pattern needs to be entered under dimmer light.”

Lela took his notes. He re-entered the first pattern. It hadn’t worked initially, but it also hadn’t triggered any smoke like the second pattern. When finished, the pattern didn’t blink or glow. It went dull so it looked like a normal piece of rock rather than the polished stone all around them. Clicks and creaks sounded in the walls on either side of the doors. A low groan echoed as the stone lock slid up and across. A crack of light formed at the door’s seams. They slowly swung outward.

Rondel breathed a heavy sigh. “No problem.”

CHAPTER 24

Mira tried to put aside mourning her brother. It wasn’t easy, but she needed her wits about her.

Beladeva’s small army led the way on foot as carriages rolled through the gate of the wall surrounding the tower. The bodies of dead guardsmen lay throughout the path leading to the entrance. Vendor stalls stood empty on either side, heightening the ominous feel of the plaza.

The carriage stopped at the tower’s base. Moments later Gulzar tugged at her arm, guiding her through the night air. At least ten men beat against the exterior doors with material confiscated from vendor stalls. A small crack sounded from inside. The men worked harder and eventually it gave way.

Men rushed in.

They were barely in for half a breath before the group ran back out hacking and coughing. A strange green smoke drifted outside. Several of Beladeva’s men clawed at their throats.

Gulzar guided her back several steps, away from both the smoke and the men.

Beladeva appeared. Despite the struggles of his men to speak, he drilled them with questions about what they had seen inside. The first two tried to speak, but couldn’t stop vomiting. The third managed to croak something about the room being empty before passing out.

Gulzar grunted beside her. “I didn’t think they’d make it in.”

Mira said nothing. She stared blankly as a man on hands and knees wiped dripping snot away from his nose and mouth. He looked miserable.

But not miserable enough. They killed my brother.

“No comment, Princess?” Gulzar prodded.

She gave him a look. “Why would you do this?”

“Beladeva—”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear technicalities of who did what. Why did you betray Bashan? Why did you betray Minander? And why would you even work for Beladeva?”

“Money and power. After my father died, I made some rather poor business decisions and was without either. Beladeva came to me. Work for him and get what I’ve always wanted, or don’t, and be left with even less than what I already had. An easy choice. The rest was just me fulfilling my part of his plan.”

“Part of what plan?”

“I thought that would be obvious by now, Princess. Beladeva wishes to rule Bashan, but he doesn’t want to do so publicly. With your brother, I was able to persuade him to make the decisions Beladeva wanted and all the while Minander thought they were his own ideas for doing what was best for Bashan.”

“So, the talk of war was really Beladeva’s doing?”

Gulzar nodded.

“Why?”

“Money and power.”

“But thousands will die and Kindi will never be the same.”

“Beladeva doesn’t care about thousands of strangers or about a country’s future.”

“What about you?”

Gulzar shrugged. “I’m young, but I won’t live forever. So long as I enjoy my life, then the future means nothing to me.”

“You sicken me,” she snapped.

“Hopefully, not too much. I’m wondering if I still might be able to convince Beladeva that you and I should wed.”

Her stomach turned. “Do you really think Beladeva will get away with this?”

He laughed. “He already has. Look around. With all this fighting, you’d think the watch would be here investigating, but they’re not. Beladeva owns most of them. By tomorrow morning he and his men will be back in the shadows and no one will ever know what truly happened tonight.”

“The other houses—”

“Are nothing. You know that.”

“Not Brahma.”

“Not yet.” He gestured over to another carriage. “Who do you think is in there? Not even someone as wily as that old man can put up much of a fight bound and gagged.”

Her stomach twisted in knots. She scanned the area as Beladeva shouted orders at his people so they could go after Rondel and Andrasta.

“Why is Beladeva interested in the jewel?”

“Come on, Princess. Do I really have to repeat those two words again?”

CHAPTER 25

All three stepped inside to escape the thickening gas. The doors ground to a halt. Something clicked and pulleys turned inside the walls. The doors reversed course. The two blocks of granite thudded closed. A scraping sound followed.

“And there’s the lock,” Rondel said through their coughs. With no immediate threat that he knew of, exhaustion washed over him.
Safe at least from one threat.
“Everything out there should look just as it did before we got inside.”

Andrasta moved her torch to study the seam between the floor and door. “No sign of the smoke getting in.”

“I don’t see a way to open the door from the inside. How are we going to get out?” Lela asked.

“One problem at a time,” said Rondel. “First we worry about getting through the tower.”

“You want me to scout ahead?” Andrasta held her torch out and squinted into the cool darkness. She seemed antsy and ready to move.

“No. We’ll stay together. Too dangerous to get separated.”

He sat on the granite floor and began shuffling through his notes. In the meantime, Andrasta tended Lela’s damaged feet with salve and cloth wrappings. He had dozens of questions about the little girl but they would have to wait as he tried to focus on the information in front of him.

“Isn’t the first guardian about a path that always moves?” asked Andrasta.

Rondel gave her a smile. “Good. You remembered.”

“What guardian?” asked Lela.

Rondel answered, “The tower is said to have five guardians or protectors in place to prevent people like us from stealing the jewel. Based on what I’ve read, the word guardian is usually used in its singular form, but it may just as easily represent many people or things rather than a single being. Simply put, a guardian is something deadly protecting a particular level of the tower. Now, as for the first one,” He paused, clearing his throat.

“Step skillfully on the sharp path.

It moves, but stays the same.

Be careful from those above.

They flock to the success of one’s aim.”

“Is that a riddle?” asked Lela.

“Something like that,” said Rondel. “Just some clues.”

“Not another blasted song like the Blood Forest?” asked Andrasta

“No. It was pure luck that we figured out how to use that song to our advantage. It was never meant to be used as we did. That song was written to convey a story, not provide a survival guide.” He looked down at his notes again. “Besides, this riddle, or whatever it is, lacks the lyrical flow of a good song. I mean who uses ‘success of one’s aim’? Amateurish at best. Lazy writing at worst.”

“Where did you get it?” asked Lela.

“The library in Zafar. Most of the clues supposedly came from a former servant of Thalamanak. They were first passed down orally until put to paper by the servant’s great grandson. There’s a chance they aren’t completely reliable. But it’s the best information I could find.”

“Why did he word the clues like that?”

Rondel shrugged. “It probably helped him remember what was in the tower without having to write it so plainly. According to the tower’s history, that same great grandson was the first person to actually get through the door we just crossed.”

“Seems odd that as powerful as Thalamanak was, he would have allowed the information to leak out at all,” said Andrasta.

“He wasn’t perfect. Remember, he did lose his empire shortly after winning the Sorcerer Wars.” He stood. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Thalamanak is dead, and this is what we have.” He gestured to Andrasta. “Let’s go.”

They had walked only a few minutes before coming across the first sign of those that came before them. A skeleton sat with its back against the wall. The hilts of two small daggers protruded from the skull’s eye sockets.

“That’s one way to get the job done,” said Rondel. “I guess it’s safe to say someone in his own group did him in.”

Andrasta yanked the daggers clear.

“What are you doing?”

“They’re in good shape, and he doesn’t need them. You can never have too many knives.” Andrasta held them out to Lela. “Do you know how to use these?”

Lela extended her hands slowly. “I think I can figure it out.”

“Good. Here.” She turned to Rondel. “Any idea where this person was from?”

“Hard to tell. Nothing left of the clothing, and what little armor he wore is brittle.” He glanced at the dagger hilts that Lela turned over in her hands. “The engraving near the blade looks like a rising sun behind a giant oak so I’d guess they were made in the Kholask Empire. That collapsed over fifteen hundred years ago.”