Chapter Two
Three days later, Lysia was walking down Market Street, east towards the wharf. She wore her full complement of sword, brass bustier, and combat leathers. Her purple silk cape flowed freely in the breeze behind her.
Market Street was Eternos's main thoroughfare and home to the city's bazaar. The bazaar was a bustling hub of activity, a place almost anything and everything could be had (From swords and battle-axes to fresh fruit, fish, silk, pottery, and just about everything else, it could be found at the bazaar.)
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As Lysia walked down the street, Zoar the Falcon soared overhead, silently keeping her under surveillance from above.
Upon reaching the wharf, Lysia turned left at the corner and made her way down the street. Ships of every size, shape, and description lay at anchor nearby. She walked down the street until she had reached The Rusty Anchor tavern. Once there, she turned and walked inside.
Having seen Lysia reach her destination, Zoar dove into an alley behind The Rusty Anchor. She hovered in mid-air and in a flash of light, suddenly transformed herself into the figure of … a male sailor. The sailor was straight out of central casting: late-twenties to early-thirties, dark hair, three-day growth of beard, yellow head scarf, cream-colored shirt, gold earring in his left ear, leather pants, soft leather boots, and a small sword hanging from his waist.
This will do, thought The Sorceress of Grayskull as she checked her look one last time. I can't very well walk into a tavern … dressed as I USUALLY do … without drawing attention to myself. With that, he strode confidently out of the alley, onto the street, and into the front door of the tavern.
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Lysia was already seated when The Sorceress/The Sailor walked in. The Sailor took a seat at a table near the front, positioning himself so as to be always within sight of Lysia. He produced a small pocket watch from his pants, pressed a small button on top, opened the case, and checked the time. Eleven-thirty hours, The Sailor thought. Teela being the stickler for punctuality that she is, she's no doubt going to be arriving at the rendezvous point early.
"Fancy ye a drink, sir?" asked a nearby feminine voice.
The Sailor looked up. Standing over him was a matronly, ruddy-cheeked barmaid. "Just some water, please," he said softly as he closed the pocket watch and put it back in his pants. "I have to go back to work."
"No drinkin' on the job, eh?" joked the barmaid. "One water, comin' up," she said with a smile as she turned and left the table. By this time, three rough-looking men had joined Lysia at her table. Her henchmen, no doubt, thought The Sailor as he tuned his ears to the conversation.
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Teela strode along the store-lined avenue, heading towards the rendezvous point across town at Founders Park.
Teela, said the Sorceress telepathically in Teela's mind. TEELA! she cried, trying get her attention.
At this, Teela suddenly stopped in her tracks. "Sorceress?" she asked the air.
Yes, came The Sorceress's telepathic reply.
"How do I respond?" Teela asked nervously. "I … I'm not a telepath."
Just keep talking, you're doing fine, The Sorceress reassured her. I can hear your thoughts.
"Where are you? What's going on?"
Don't go to the rendezvous point, The Sorceress warned.
"You know about the meeting?"
Yes.
"What's going on? Where are you?"
Lysia is setting up an ambush at the bridge with three of her henchmen.
Teela's blood suddenly ran cold. "Where are you? How do you know all this?"
I'm at a tavern near the wharf called The Rusty Anchor, The Sorceress replied. She's sitting with three of her henchmen at the next table over from me.
Teela tried for a moment to imagine The Sorceress of Grayskull -- in all her feathered glory -- sitting in a seedy tavern with winos, sailors, and roughnecks. It's not what you're thinking, The Sorceress corrected telepathically. I'm what you might call … undercover.
Teela breathed a sigh of relief. "The Rusty Anchor, huh? I know where THAT is." Teela paused. "I'm on my way."
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"So when I get there, you three will jump her, pistol whip her, drag her into the bushes, and then slit her throat," said Lysia as she went over her plan with her henchmen. By now, the barmaid had served all four of them a single tankard of wine. "Understood?"
"Yes, Lysia," said one henchman.
"Good," said Lysia curtly.
The henchman took a sip of wine. "You know, this is good wine," he said, taking another sip … and then another. "You know … has anyone ever told you … how beautiful you are?" he said drunkenly.
Lysia stared at the henchman coldly. "WHAT did you say?"
"S-s-something … about the way … your hair … catches … the light," he slurred, now thoroughly plastered.
"C'mon, baby … let's go back to MY place," slurred the second henchman, now as drunk as the first. "How bout giving me some lovin'?" he said. "How's bout a kiss?" he added, leaning in towards Lysia and puckering his lips in anticipation.
Lysia stared at the two henchmen in horror. What in the name of the Ancients is going ON here? "Do any of you remember ANYTHING I've just said?"
"Eh … what?" said the third henchman, now as thoroughly drunk as the first two.
"The MISSION!" Lysia screamed in frustration.
"What mission?" said the second henchman.
"I don't remember a mission," said the first henchman. "You know … you have such beautiful eyes," he added, making a drunken pass at Lysia.
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The Sorceress/The Sailor smiled a quiet smile of satisfaction as he watched the scene unfold from his table near the front of the tavern. There go three henchmen she can no longer send after Teela, he thought as he sipped a tankard of water.
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Lysia stared at her tankard in horror. Are we drinking the same WINE? she thought. This … after only ONE DRINK! She stood up as realization finally dawned on her. "This wine is BEWITCHED!" she bellowed, slamming her tankard down onto the floor.
Now, Lysia, chided The Sorceress telepathically in Lysia's mind. If you wish to surrender, you're going to have to do it alone. She then added, in the tone of a parent admonishing a child, You can't bring any friends along.
Lysia drew her sword. "WHERE ARE YOU?" she roared. "Show yourself, you feathered freak!"
You know what they say about sticks and stones, The Sorceress quipped telepathically, unable to resist the opening.
Lysia hissed, sheathed her sword in its scabbard, and stormed out of the tavern. The Sailor tossed three gold pieces onto the table as a tip for the barmaid. Let the Games begin, he thought as he disappeared into thin air.