Meshed. A city that melted into the desert, half consumed by immortally hungry sands. Layered over time, one city over another, over another. Dug out in parts, so that the streets were nothing more than deep ravines, buildings separated by thick layers of sand and dirt, new atop old, atop old.
Malice had been there before. Forever ago. She remembered it as a different place. A colorful place. She complained of the disrepair, but it was clear to tell, she was rattled. Still very much alarmed over the astonishing power she had released. She clung to Schneider obsessively, unusually quiet, unusually restrained in her flirting.
One had to appreciate the change, even if it was brought about by such a disquieting event. Kall-Su walked ahead of Schneider and the Djinni, listening to the little guide, Abu talk about this ancient city. He looked back occasionally to Schneider, who had spoken not at all since the Djinni had transported them here. He had not fully healed, Kall thought. More than physical wounds, from that battle of intense magics had been taken. Kall still felt drained himself and he'd only been at the fringes of the main conflict. All the more reason to find out what they could about the Black March.
The writings were in a place Abu called the Palace. An old place that had been built upon many times. It did not house kings anymore, though it might once have. It was still a relatively impressive structure, with thick stone pillars that disappeared into the sands, and a conglomerate of architectural styles dominating its facade. There were guards before it, and scrolled iron gates to pass. Some of the guards even held the faint trace of magic. Either wizards themselves or possessed of runes or magical potents.
"They are Sahir." Abu confessed, as they loitered across the square from the impressive facade of the Palace. "Mercenary magicians, who hire out for the greatest of rewards. But not, I am sure, worthy to lick the sand from your boots, most worthy lords."
Kall lifted an eyebrow at him. Schneider snorted softly, leaning against the eroded statue of a dog faced god.
"There are also wards against magic inside." Abu said warily. "Old wards. Perhaps meant to keep djinni or Sahir's from learning the secrets hidden within the depths."
"But not to keep out a thief like you, hummm?" Schneider said.
Abu shuffled his feet. "I went under disguise. As a wealthy merchant. Otherwise they would not have let me within the walls."
"Who lives there?" Kall asked.
Abu blinked at him. "Why no one -- exactly. It is the most famous den of pleasure in all the desert. The most exclusive. Only the wealthy and most powerful are allowed to sample its treasures."
"Its a whore house?" Schneider laughed.
"Why yes, built on the ruins of a great palace. Hence the name."
"All right. So Malice gives us all princely clothes and lots of gold and we go and see these damned writings."
"Ah, but it is not so easy. The writings are on the lowest level and patrons are not allowed beyond the first two."
"So what? Who's gonna stop us?"
"There are wards against magics, my lord. And guards who do not need magic to stop a man."
Kall exchanged glances with Schneider, the both of them silently acknowledging that at this precise moment, a strong ward might be more than either of them could deal with. Schneider wasn't happy about the admittance. Schneider ground his teeth and glowered.
"How did you get down there, then?" he snapped.
"I -- uh -- once did practice the art of burglary, my lord. For a short while. And they know my face now. They would kill me on sight. But all is not lost. The whores can pass that way. Their quarters are on the lower level. This most beautiful lady can simply slip into the Palace and make her way below ----"
"I can't read." Malice said, sounding bored.
Abu's face fell. Kall sighed in disgust, and restrained the urge to kick futility at the dust.
"So," Schneider said idly. "Are there boy whores?"
"Faajir's? Of course, what pleasure den would be complete without them?"
"No." Kall-Su said flatly, glaring. "Absolutely not."
Schneider shrugged. "Its a viable notion. You do read the language."
"You do it then."
"I don't read yet. And no one's mistaken me for a catamite yet. Half the people in this miserable place think that you're mine."
Kall sputtered indignantly. Blushed totally against his will and almost did summon a spell to blast Malice with when she laughed at him.
"Oh, my lord, you would make a most believable faajir." Abu beamed at him. Kall turned his glare on him and the little man withered, stepping back a pace. "I mean -- I meant -- you would hardly be suspected -- no one would look at you twice --- not that you are not worthy of a second look -- but --"
"Okay, okay." Schneider said. "Malice, shut up. Kall, live with it."
"No." There were certain things pride would not allow. He would as soon blast the place to hell and back, as stoop to playing such a charade. He said as much to Schneider. Schneider lifted a black brow at him doubtfully, draped an arm about his shoulder and walked him away from the other two.
"I will not." Kall-Su hissed under his breath before the other wizard could speak.
"I'm tired, Kall. I'm not up to taking down wards I can feel from all the way out here. Not to mention the echoes of such magic might draw things I'm not ready to deal with yet."
Kall-Su shook the arm off, glaring. Since when had Schneider ever admitted to weakness. Never, unless it suited him to do so. Unless he was trying to gain something from it.
"Its demeaning."
"Who says? I love whores."
He hissed wordlessly and stalked away.
Kall-Su was ridiculously stubborn about some things. Where he had gotten some of his prudish values, Schneider would never know. He certainly had not picked them up from him. But of course, no one won arguments with Schneider --- well no one except Yoko. And eventually reason and Schneider superior stubbornness won out.
They sat down the street in a grubby sidewalk cafe, drinking luke warm wine and eating sticky sweet pastries topped with chopped nuts, while the little native, Abu went skulking about, for the most innocuous method of entry.
Schneider's head hurt. His physical state had been repaired, but the reservoir that he pulled power from, was severely depleted. It was slow to refill, as it generally was when he over did it. A good long sleep would replenish it faster, but there was neither the time nor the place for it. Damn the dark skinned demon anyway, for exceeding all Schneider's expectations in just how powerful a force he was. And that metaconcert of combined magics -- that was an annoying little ploy, Enough to slap him down and hard. He hadn't taken such a hit in --- in a very long time. It pissed him off. Running from battles galled him to the core. Getting himself killed galled more. Admitting that it was a distinct possibility was salt on the wound.
He shut his eyes, listening distantly to Malice babble about her own experiences within the scented halls of pleasure houses. He opened himself to the natural flow of energies, willing them to flow into him. There was a distant darkness at the edge of his awareness. A distant, harnessed force of nature that held distinct familiarity.
The Black March. On the move and quickly. One might almost think that it was headed this way, but it was hard to tell. It might merely be the ebb and swell of power.
"DS?" Kall leaned close, speaking softly, a touch of concern in his tone.
"I can feel them. Closer than they were, I think." He said it without opening his eyes.
Kall pulled back, startled. "Coming here?"
"Perhaps. Maybe this place has meaning to them. It predates them, if what Abu says is correct. Perhaps the thing we seek, they seek as well."
Silence from Kall. Silence from Malice, who did not relish the thought of encountering the Black March ever again. "Master, can you not defeat them?"
He cracked an eye to look at her. Pretty thing. Useless since she had no skill at battle. "Not at the moment."
It was embarrassing and infuriating and one mused, quite possibly a necessary thing if they wished to leave this detestable desert alive. He felt the wards the moment he stepped into the cool, stone environs of the palace. Old and powerful and though he might have dismantled them, it would have taken time and energy. He had little enough of either to spare.
He would endeavor to forget this as thoroughly as possible, when it was over and done with. To forget the smirk on the djinni face, and the whispered suggestions of Abu on how one should act to be taken as an authentic faajir.
"Anyone that touches me will die." He snarled at one point.
"Of course." Schneider said blithely, a small smile on his face. "Do it subtly, thought, will you? And wait till after you've found the writings."
Kall glared. And glared more when Abu said. "You can't wear that."
"Ooohh, I can help." Malice chirped maliciously, at which point he gathered energy to blast her to bits -- if such a thing were possible and Schneider stepped between them and shook a warning finger in his face.
"Be nice."
But it was damned disconcerting to have the clothes on one's back melt into something different altogether. Different weight, different fabric and less of it. Schneider lifted a brow at him, eyes drifting with casual interest.
"That's good. That's good." Abu was hopping impatiently. "Let's go." He dared to lay hands on Kall-Su's arm. A tiny transfer of magic and the little man yelped, jerking his hand away, shaking out frost bitten fingers.
Into the place through the back, by a service entrance, where merchants brought their wares and carts of produce rolled past scurrying scullery boys, and red faced, turbaned servants. Right through the gates and there was protection of the warded kind. If Kall had even attempted a spell of diversion or illusion, they would have triggered. Abu had better ways. He slipped a man a handful of gold, and the man turned his attention elsewhere when Kall walked through the gates.
How incredibly demeaning to walk in among the churls and the servants, with a hooded cloak hiding his pale hair and skin. He forced himself not to dwell on it, brought to mind the path Abu had traced for him to take. Lowest level. There were multiple ways down. He pulled the cloak tighter and slipped through the halls. The servants inside were of a finer class than those that worked in the kitchen courtyard. Pretty young things that floated about the place, bearing trays or linen, among other things, dressed in silk and gauze and made up like the harlots they probably were.
His eyes hardened in distaste, in disgust at being cornered in playing this charade. A charade which would hardly have been necessary if Schneider ever listened to anyone besides the malicious voice inside him that urged him to do exactly as he pleased, when he pleased regardless of warnings or pleas. One imagined he regretted it now, doubtless sporting a massive magical hangover. Kall had one himself, though not so incapacitating as the one he suspected Schneider was experiencing.
There was a low murmur of music and conversation up ahead. The hallway he traveled and many more like it fed into a great assembly room of sorts. It might have once been the main hall or throne room chamber of this place when it had in truth been a palace. Walls had been knocked out to create more space, and veils draped from the ceiling, from columns, from statuary, created a labyrinth of half concealed niches, from which the various smells of exotic foods, perfumes, incense or the smoke inhaled drugs these people were so fond of, emanated. There were dancers undulating in a cleared central space, and musicians lounging on pillows, playing their instruments.
It was languid and carnal, and reminded him vaguely, though of a foreign flavor of places Schneider had frequented years past, during his quest to conquer the world. Schneider would have liked this place. He had an attraction for decadence. Kall-Su did not.
"Do you have a token, master?" A girl sashshayed up to him, all curves and dark skin, and strategically placed veils. The clientele, according to Abu, purchased a token that let the staff know what level of service he had purchased.
He sighed and draped the cloak over his arm, revealing that he was not dressed as a wealthy client, but rather more on the line of the servants of this den of debauchery.
"No token." He said softly and the girl lifted a brow, then nodded, understanding.
"I haven't seen you before. I would recall." She smiled at him. He was looking over her head, scanning the hall for the main stairwell down.
"No." He murmured in agreement. "Where is the way to the lower levels?"
She lifted a braceleted arm and pointed. "There. You are a foreigner? When were you bought?"
He ignored her curious questions, swept past her the way she had indicated, stepping around scattered pillows and scattered couples and groups openly engaging in acts better done in privacy. He saw the stairway. Two guards stood at either side of it. He passed without even looking at them, and other than the movement of their eyes as he walked past, they did not make a motion to stop him.
Schneider drummed his nails impatiently on the much scarred wood of the table top. They had retreated inside the tavern, where it was marginally cooler. Abu loitered near the bar, uncomfortable in Schneider's presence. Malice, entirely comfortable, pressed against his side, having the sense to know when silence was required of her and keeping her mouth shut. Her prattle had begun to annoy him. Yoko never prattled stupidly. Arshes didn't. One missed a sensible woman. It was a surprising thing to realize, that a woman with a brain and an opinion worth listening to was a thing to be desired.
How long since Kall had been gone? The heat and the impatience made time seem to drag. Probably not that long. Probably no reason to become irritated with the wait. He was irritated anyway. His temples pounded. His muscles ached with a bone deep throb that no amount of healing magic could evaporate. His pride was sorely wounded. He did not appreciate forced retreat or the humiliating taste of blood and sand in his mouth. He refused to dwell on the fact that if Kall-Su had not been at hand, he would have been dead. Again.
"Master?" Malice soft voice reached past his thoughts. "Are you sure you are well? You look pained. Is there nothing I can do?"
Her soft breast pressed up against his arm and the jasmine scent of her hair was quite enough. He shook his head once. "No."
Time would do it. If he had time. Ramlah was getting closer. He wondered if the djinni could sense the Black March as acutely as he could. She had released them after all.
"Do you feel them coming?" he asked.
She blinked up at him, owl eyed and startled at the question. "Are they coming?"
Obviously her senses were not as sharp as his. He sighed and nodded. "Yes."
"Here? Do they follow us?" she straightened, looking about the tavern as if she expected Ramlah to walk in and order a drink.
"I don't know." It was an inadvertently poignant question. Did Ramlah and his Black March sense Schneider as clearly as he sensed them, or did this place that held the history of their imprisonment have as much, if not more meaning for them, that it did for Schneider?
"Abu. Come here." Schneider snapped at the little man. The guide scuttled over nervously.
"Yes, oh great one? How may I serve?"
"Is there a reason he'd have for coming here?"
"Here? They're coming here?!!" Abu's eyes followed much the same route that Malice's had. Schneider hissed and snagged the front of the little man's robes, yanking him forward.
"Why would they give a damn what was here?"
"There are many things in the depths of the palace." Abu stammered. "Many histories."
"Which one's would interest Ramlah?"
"I don't know. So much of those writings were overlooked, having no bearing on the location of the tomb of the Black March."
"He knows where he was buried. He probably knows how it was done and he sure as hell doesn't give a damn about how he was released -- so what else?"
"Well --- well there was the part about his wife."
"He had a wife?" Malice asked.
"I believe it was she that led him into the trap that imprisoned him." Abu stammered. "Perhaps he might be interested in discovering where the spirit of the traitoress lies."
Schneider let Abu go, sat back thoughtfully and mused. "I would be. I hope Kall reads that part."
And then, rather unexpectedly a lash of power laced premonition hit him. He blinked, a vision of howling wind whipping up the sands of the desert, of a center of darkness within the storm. Of riders crossing the distance at a rate no mortal steed could reach. Of that arcane storm descending upon this very city, of people scattering at the outskirts of town, cowering as riders emerged that this world had not seen in millennia.
"Shit!" he surged to his feet, chasing the vision away, forcing the tingling feel of foreign awareness away. "They're fucking here." He snarled. And he was in no wise prepared to meet them.
Abu, if nothing else gave precise and reliable directions. And he was right about the runes being stronger the deeper one got into the bowels of the palace. The upper levels were newborn compared to the ones that reached under the first layer of the earth's bedrock. Very old, very potent, very much imbued with the power of the earth's own magic to power the runes that were carved into the stone of the walls. Kall would have liked to linger and study the construction of those runes. Foreign things and unusual in their making. They perked his interest as nothing so far in this land had. Any strange magic held an fascination for him.
There was only storage below a certain point. The living quarters were a level above him, and now the halls and the small rooms off them were filled with a mountainous assortment of goods. There was no one down here save for rats and spiders and other unsavory denizens of the dark. He had been forced to appropriate an oil lantern, not even able to call the small magic of a witch light because of the runes.
The passages became narrow and claustrophobic, low ceilinged and crumbling. Built for a smaller people that existed eons ago. He found the beginnings of wall script and upon brief inspection found it to concern more the building of this place than the reason for its being. There was a hall dedicated to the kings that had maintained this temple. And one concerning the many and varied gods of this land. And there ahead a landmark that Abu had told him of. A shattered statue of a animal helmed man of titanic proportions. Beyond that was a hall made of obsidian, bare of everything save the walls that were covered from ceiling to floor in small, even hieroglyphics. It was like a library unto itself and more than he might be able to decipher in a reasonable amount of time. He held up the lantern to illuminate one section of wall and audibly sighed.
He hoped that Schneider's patience held out for this was going to take a while.