The Temple of Vishtari

A text adventure game published as a type-in game in the book "Castles & Kingdoms".

The Novice wasn't doing badly. He'd entered the Great Canyon from the desert side and passed through the Corridor of the Seven Deadly Traps without a hitch. His training in disguises allowed him to blend in with the road traffic. To the farmers and peasants on the byway he looked just like one of them. But he was not trying to escape their attentions; rather it was the guardsmen of the High Priest of Vishtari that the Novice did not want to meet. Discovery by the guards would be time-consuming and materially expensive. Better not to be noticed. The road from the wall of the Great Canyon to the outer wall of the Shrine of Vishtari was a long and dusty hike. The Novice was grateful for the training that had molded his finely-tuned athletic body. The sun overhead was merciless, as it had been when he'd crossed the Outback. There had been times when he'd believed he would not survive in the Graylock desert, but never a time when he doubted the purpose of his mission. "The first ten miles from the Canyon wall are the most dangerous," his teacher had warned him. "The wall dwellers are bandits and villains, even by Vishtarian standards. If it becomes necessary to fight, do so as quickly and with the least amount of visible skill as possible, lest you be observed and your true mission ascertained." "Good advice," the Novice mused silently, as he trudged along. The first bandits he'd encountered at the wall had to be soundly thrashed by means of kick boxing and flat hand blows that were part of his elementary training. The yelping curs had been dispatched with a minimum of skill and had not returned. He had acquired a sturdy sword from the fracas and its owner had showed no inclination to try and recover it. In the distance, the dome of the Shrine could be seen. A gate barred the road into the city and there were armed Guardsmen searching everyone. As he drew closer, the Novice could see evidence of just how careful the searches were: beside the gate lay a jumbled pile of swords, knives, chains and other weaponry that had been confiscated. In a smaller pile lay some of their owners. Drawing the bandit sword from his belt, with two hands the Novice raised it above his head, a gesture of concession to the authority of the gate guardsmen.

When he surrendered it, blade-first, to a burly gatekeeper, he was questioned: "Tell me, why have you come here?" the keeper demanded. "I am a humble minstrel," replied the Novice, "I seek a song, a tale and perhaps a ducat or two in return for my playing, which I will gladly share with the Priests of the Red Cloak in return for their indulgence and hospitality." The Novice had cleverly referred to the red-cloaked minions of the Snake by their chosen name rather than one of the more colorful titles afforded them by the families and friends of children stolen in the name of Vishtari and the Red Magics. "A strange possession for a man of word and lute," said the keeper as he took the sword. "An unfortunate loss for the bandit who owns it," replied the Novice. "I suspect that he is the worse for it being here." "Pass on," said the keeper, chuckling at the thought of so frail and weedy a lute strummer battling with a road thief for the blade. "Mind you, the penalty for misbehavior is death." "Indeed, I shall not forget." The Novice made the traditional sign of health and prosperity and strode on through the gate. The City of the Red Priests was a city of transients. There were a few taverns and inns, bu t except for those who attended the Temple, and the initiates to the Order, there was no resident population. Indeed, few Men or Graylocks possessed courage enough to remain within these walls after sundown. Those who did -who did not enjoy the protection of the Order-simply vanished. The Novice did not relish or need the protection of the Order. His purpose was the destruction of the Order, even the destruction of Vish