The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1) by CA Morgan Page B

kinds of lacquered tables, and velvet upholstered chairs and divans. On the dining table stood a crystal decanter full of red wine and a silver tray laden with fresh fruit from the local gardens. On the opposite side of the room a glass-paned door opened out onto a small balcony from which one could peer over the palace walls.
    Eris stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the wrought-iron railing. He studied the layout of the palace grounds and the streets surrounding it. He heard Raga step out behind him.
    “If I can manage to find my way to those rear gardens, then I should have a good chance of escaping. The real problem I see is that they had to put this palace right in the center of town. Soldiers will appear from every rat hole along those streets leading to the northern gates if we’re forced to leave on the run,” Eris said.
    “I have the uneasy feeling that will be the case. But then, that’s what I’m here for,” Raga said. He put a friendly hand on Eris’ shoulder, but Eris shied away from the touch. In spite of the warm sun upon his face, he felt a cold shiver ripple through him.
    “I think I’ll go downstairs and see if I can find something to eat,” Eris said, stepping back into the dim light and coolness of the room.
    “You don’t have to do that. How about a feast like we almost had in Rennas Bay?” Raga suggested, following him back inside.
    “I knew my mind wasn’t playing tricks back at the Black Mare. I need to trust myself first around you,” Eris said angrily, as now he knew for sure that Raga, and magic, had been responsible for it. He slammed the door as he went out.
    It was late afternoon, when Raga returned from his palace visit. He found Eris still in the tavern. He was leaning up against a wall with his legs stretched out on the bench on which he was sitting. A half a dozen cups, all drained to the bottom, sat on the table next to him. Another, he held in his hand and slowly sloshed the contents. He watched the comings and goings of the people in the inn with an aloof, cynical detachment.
    “How was your lunch?” Raga asked, as he sat down on the bench opposite Eris.
    “Passable. So, when do I prostitute myself before the leering eyes of the Sultan’s court?” Eris asked, sounding surprisingly indifferent.
    Raga sighed. The amount of ale Eris had consumed had but taken the edge off of his intemperance. It was going to be a long night.
    “We’ll go to the palace tomorrow toward late afternoon,” Raga answered. “Tonight, if you wouldn’t mind, I want you to change yourself so we can fit you with a costume. You'll be one of the last to be presented, so we need to devise something as exquisite as what you become.”
    “So, then what do I do? Meet with the Sultan and exchange meaningless pleasantries with him? Flatter him with even more undeserved drivel?” Eris mocked, with a flutter of his fingers as he pretended a sarcastic bow
    Charra-Tir be damned to the Seventh Hell , Raga thought suddenly looking into Eris’ darkly violet, challenging eyes. Someday you will pay for your tricks . Had he a choice in the matter, not even all the gems hidden in the sand would have been enough to coerce him into saying what he was about to say.
    “It involves a little more than that,” Raga said uncomfortably. Why did the witch have to curse this man, who possessed so little patience and reminded him of a cold, winter wind? Or worse, a mountain panther lying in wait to pounce and tear the throat out of its unsuspecting prey. Why did the fates choose to throw them together into such an impossible situation? Raga felt Eris’ alcohol-tempered gaze on him and realized that he hadn’t spoken for several minutes.
    “You are going to have to . . . how can I put this better . . .you have to dance for him.”
    Eris smirked. He looked at Raga as though it was he who was drunk and jabbered nonsense. He made a snort of laughter, drank his half-full cup to the dregs, and would have