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NJUBLWQNEM 24-01-2003
A Gathering of Heros
By Paul Edwin Zimmer

CHAPTER ONE
The Call
The forest-scented wind hinted at magic as it blew across the water of the bay. Above his head, Istvan
DiVega heard the sharp slap of canvas, and the shouting of the seamen as they scrambled in the rigging,
but his eyes were held by the storied shore, and his mind by memories of tales told him in youth.
Behind him, unbroken ocean reached the horizon where the twin suns sank toward his distant home,
halfway 'round the world. Their light gilded the great bay before him, gleaming on crystal towers rising
from the thick green trees, and painting little houses mystic hues. It had been more than fifteen years since
he had last walked the streets of ancient Elthar, or spoken with those eldest of all Immortals who dwell
there. Deeply as he longed to be home in Carcosa far away, after all these months of fighting on the far
eastern shores of the island continent of Y'gora, still Istvan found himself wishing that the ship could stop
longer here . . .
There was a soft whisper of displaced air at his back. Swordsman's reflexes brought him around, hand
flying to hilt: he heard men gasp on the deck. But his hand dropped away from his sword as he saw the
blue robe on the red-haired man who had appeared out of the air behind him, and recognised the broad
face and blue eyes of Aldamir Hastur.
2 Paul Edwin Zimmer
Istvan DiVega was Carcosan born and bred: his bow, though forma], bore no hint of the deference
another might have shown to one of the Guardians of the World, for to the proud nobles of Seynyor, the
House of Hastur is but one of the great families of the Land of the Lords.
"My Lord Aldamir," he murmured, and smiled at the gasps of the Nydorcans as the Hastur mirrored his
bow, the greeting of one Seynyorean nobleman to another.
"My Lord Istvan," Aldamir replied. "I understand your company has finished its term of service with the
Airarian Empire? That you are now free for hire?''
"A Hastur need never speak of hire to a DiVega," Istvan said stiffly, rebuke in his voice. "Where shall we
march? When? It will take usтАФ" he paused, thinking, sorting with his mind the gear below decksтАФ"three
hours perhaps, and we will be ready. Command us."
"It is not the company whose services we need," die Immortal said "but your own." Istvan blinked in
surprise, and ran fingers through grizzled black hair. Aldamir smiled. "It is your sword-arm we need, and
not an army." Pride rose through Istvan's confusion: trumpets played in his heart. "No army could fight its
way to where we ask you to go: your road is a path for a few. Have you ever heard ofтАФ"his voice