Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 2 - Samarkand Solution Read Free Page B

had both magickal devices and a sixth sense to give warning of such observation, something akin to Setae's own ability. Inhetep had looked away immediately upon recognizing Yakeem, blanked his upper mind, and only watched the sharp-featured Dahlikil from the corner of his eye. It was a trick of detecting motion and position. By watching only the feet, it was possible not to alert a professional such as the ebon-skinned killer. Inhetep attuned his ears to the sound of Yakeem's footfalls and listened for Ms voice. The words weren't distinct, but the man said something brief to a broad-shouldered fellow, then moved down the bar and left. As soon as the assassin had gone, Inhetep placed a pair of bronze dinars on the stained wood of his table, examining the man to whom he was sure Yakeem had spoken in passing. He was a Scythian or Median; the magister couldn't tell which at that distance. There was no time to move nearer and listen to hear his speech, either. As the priest-wizard arose from his chair, he staggered a little, made a show of draining the last dregs from his clay pot, and then lurched out. The broad-shouldered confederate of Yakeem hardly glanced at Inhetep as he left, thinking Mm merely a tipsy clerk or merchant from one of the nearby factories or warehouses.
    It was twilight, and there was near gloom in the narrow streets, bet Inhetep didn't need mag-ick to locate the direction Yakeem had taken. Towards the east, the way was fairly straight, and in the time between the lanky assassin's departure from the tavern and Ms own, the priest-wizard knew that Yakeem could not have traversed the length of it. Unless the Dahlikil had entered another of the shabby buildings around the place, Inhetep reasoned, the man was headed west, following the corkscrew street towards the commercial docks. Without seeming to hurry, Inhetep moved with long strides in the direction of the river. Once out of sight of the tavern's entrance, he broke into a rapid lope. After about half a minute, Inhetep then stopped still and listened.
    No sound came from behind, but ahead he heard a confusion of noise. There was some busy street ahead, perhaps a little market as well. He would have to risk being seen, or else the assassin might lose himself in the crowd. Walking again with long strides, Inhetep rounded a nearby dogleg and found himself in a broader way with a scattering of little stalls and carts lining its walls. Torches were being lit here and there against the gathering darkness. Witchlight globes and other magickal illumination devices glowed more brightly as night descended. The ruddy flare of the brands and pale washes of greenish or violet-hued foxfires enspelled by amateur local practitioners gave the scene an air between that of a gaily colored festival and some nightmare glimpse of hell.
    "Poppy wine, Aisthentes?" quarried a Levantine from his doorway.
    "Come here to Amrahet's stall! Every amulet and talisman I have is guaranteed potent. No need to fear the sting of scorpions, the pox! Am-rahet has charms against all ills!" sang a vendor as the tall wizard-priest moved rapidly past the man.
    To the left, Inhetep saw booths selling food. Skewers of meat and vegetables toasted over lit-tie charcoal braziers, pots of soup and stew simmered, and whole fowls roasted on spits. The odor was actually enticing, each aroma combining somehow to make the mouth water, and a dozen voices cajoled passersby to eat. Yakeem wasn't to be seen there, so the magister scanned the street to the left: more peddlars, shops, and a gathering of folk emerging into the cooler evening after being inside during the hot afternoon, but the Dahlikil wasn't there either. Directly ahead was a narrow lane, a street of joy, as was evident from the wall glyphs and signs clearly visible in the light of fiery cresset or multi-hued witchlight. More money was spent here; the magicka! illuminations were skillfully cast so that sultry purples, hot reds, lilacs, pinks, and