Dark Sun: Prism Pentad 4 - Obsidian Oracle Read Online Free PDF Page B

eyes on the noble. “Maybe Fylo and Agis could be friends?”
    “Perhaps, when we have more time to spend together,” the noble allowed. “But right now, I
     must catch Tithian-before he hurts someone else.”
    Fylo smiled, then reached down and laid an open palm in front of the noble's kank. “Let
     Fylo carry you,” he said. “Catch Tithian together.”

Chapter Two: Chamber of Patricians
    Tithian stood in the anteroom of the White Palace, peering through a casement, counting
     the number of ships in Balk's harbor. The port lay at the edge of the city, where a haze
     of silvery dust lingered over the bay, drifting as far inland as the inns surrounding the
     dock area. Still, the Tyrian king found the task an easy one, for the masts rose out of
     the murk like the charred boles of a burned forest.
    “What's your interest in King Andropinis's armada?” inquired Tithian's escort, a young man
     wrapped in the cream-colored toga of a Balican templar. He had a haughty chin, an upturned
     nose, and short hair as white as his robe. “Surely, at Tyr's distance from the Silt Sea,
     you've no reason to worry about our navy.”
    “I've no particular interest in the fleet,” lied Tithian, continuing with his silent
     count. “But I had not imagined your port would
    
    
     be so
    
    
     crowded. How many craft does your king have?”
    “That's not something we discuss with strangers,” replied the templar, taking Tithian by
     the arm. “Nor do we allow them to count our sails.”
    Tithian jerked his arm free of the young man's grasp. “In my city, you'd be flogged for
     such impudence!”
    The templar showed no sign of concern. “We are not in your city, and you are not a king in
     Balic,” he replied. “Now, step away from the window.”
    “I will-when King Andropinis is ready to receive me,” said Tithian, struggling to keep his
     temper under control. “If you touch me again, I'll kill you- and I assure you, Andropinis
     will do nothing about it.” He slipped his hand into the satchel hanging from his shoulder.
    The templar's guards, a pair of flabby half-giants standing almost as high as the ceiling,
     leveled their wooden spears at the Tyrian's chest. Dressed in leather corselets with white
     capes pinned over their stooped shoulders, the hairy brutes had slack-jawed expressions
     that did little to belie their slow wits. Tithian gave them a contemptuous sneer, then
     returned his attention to his escort.
    “Give this to your master,” said Tithian. He withdrew a small medallion of copper that had
     been molded into an eight-pointed star. It was the crest of Kalak, the sorcerer-king from
     whom Tithian had usurped the throne of Tyr. “Tell him I have grown tired of waiting.”
    The templar remained unimpressed. “I'll relay your message-and you shall wish I hadn't.”
    With that, the man spun on his heel and left, leaving his charge in the custody of the
     half-giants.
    “You made a big mistake, Tyr-king,” said one of the brutes. “That was Maurus, Chamberlain
     to His Majesty.”
    Tithian gave the guard a wry smile. “I think Maurus is the one who made the mistake.”
    The king returned his attention to the masts. From what he could tell through the haze,
     the harbor seemed unusually full, with no empty dock space available and dozens of craft
     moored offshore. To fulfill his needs, he would require only a small portion of the armada
     gathered in the bay.
    Now that he felt certain he'd be able to procure enough troops and ships, Tithian allowed
     his gaze to wander over the rest of Balic. The city shimmered with a pearly light, for its
     blocky buildings were faced in blond marble and its avenues paved with pale limestone.
     Encircling the White Palace's fortified bluff were the pillared emporiums of the
     Merchants' Quarter, as striking in their size as in the clean lines of their architecture.
     Beyond this district lay the dingy warrens of the Elven Market, the