Pherris gave her an incredulous look. “Bone hardly seems the hardiest of building materials,” he said.
“The Karrnathi military relies heavily on necromancy,” Eraina said grimly. “I can’t say that I approve, but death magic has quite efficiently protected our people for generations. The fortifications worked surprisingly well, and the improvised defenses held off all attacks until reinforcements arrived and the enemy departed, seeking easier pickings. Since then, it has become tradition. Any time the fort is attacked, the bones of any slain enemies are added to its defenses.”
“A grim sort of folktale,” Pherris said.
“It’s no folktale,” Eraina said. “It is a true story. The Karrn are a fierce, stubborn, and unforgiving people. We are prone to making dramatic examples of our enemies, so that others will be loath to challenge us. I find it barbaric, but it is our way.”
“What you call barbaric I find admirable,” Dalan said as he emerged from his cabin. His face was still faintly bruised, but he wore a freshly pressed black suit and appeared entirely refreshed from his ordeal. “Dramatic examples defeat future enemies before a battle even begins. It is an extraordinarily humane way to conduct a nation’s defense. Those bones, after all, weren’t being put to any other use.”
Eraina looked at Dalan and sighed.
“Pherris,” Dalan continued, ignoring the paladin, “please pull in as close as you can to the village. The lightning rail station may have a proper sky tower of some sort. Eraina, if you would be so kind, I request your presence. The locals will react suspiciously to an unexpected foreign airship docking in their town. The presence of a countryman, especially one who bears the mark of the Hearthmother, may ease my attempts at diplomacy.”
“Of course,” she said, eyeing Dalan with her usual caution.
“And Tristam?” Dalan peered about, seeing no sign of the artificer. He sighed. “If anyone sees Master Xain, tell him to perform only the minimum labor necessary so that we might travel on to Korth safely. I can arrange the rest of the repairs there for lesser expense. The merchants of Vulyar are accustomed to charging inflated prices to their curious halfling visitors, and I would prefer to avoid their greed. In the meantime, I have business in Korth that can be attended while the ship is repaired there.”
“Eager to check in with Baron Zorlan?” Zed said.
Dalan nodded gravely.
“You plan to face the master of your own House, Dalan?” Eraina asked.
Dalan snorted.
“Zorlan is not the master of House Cannith,” Dalan said. “The Cannith patriarch died on the Day of Mourning. Since then, the leadership of my House has been split by petty political squabbles. I respect all of the so-called lords of my House but acknowledge none of them.”
“Petty politics, in your family?” Zed asked dryly.
“Surprising, I know,” Dalan said. “Zorlan is one of the leading contenders for leadership, but he holds no authority over me. If I were to acknowledge any Cannith as the new patriarch, it would be Baron Merrix.”
“Assuming you didn’t just make a bid for control yourself,” Zed said.
Dalan laughed lightly. “Politics can be unpredictable,” he said. “But my own ambitions are not our concern. If what the Ghost Talons told us is true, Zorlan d’Cannith-or, more likely, someone claiming his authority-knows a great deal more about Marth’s activities than he ever divulged. Our own progress, such as it is, is also likely known to them. I despise being kept in the dark. I intend to discover if I have been manipulated by my superiors.” He sneered at Zed. “You may now make some biting comment regarding the irony of this moment. I am waiting.”
Zed only smiled. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said. “I’m just wondering how you’re going to handle the baron. He’s not a kind man, if rumor serves.”
“I shall handle him as I handle all my affairs,” Dalan said. “Cautiously and indirectly.”
“Riders incoming,” Pherris said, pointing at the city gates. The Karia Naille slowed to a smooth hover above the Vulyar lightning rail station. A squad of mounted horsemen in grim black armor were already galloping toward the sky tower.
“Why is it every time we go somewhere new, we’re always met by armed guards?” Dalan mused.
“Unmarked airships do not inspire trust,” Eraina said. “Why do you fly your ship with no marks of nation or house, d’Cannith? You must admit it looks terribly suspicious.”
“Because of the weight such colors carry,” he said, stepping to the edge of the deck as Omax secured the ship to the tower. “All nations have enemies, as do all Houses. Even worse, they all have allies-allies who may presume that I have come to aid them, or who would seek to ingratiate themselves to us. I haven’t the time for such nonsense.”
“You would prefer to appear suspicious to everyone you meet?”
“Quite so,” Dalan said. “I can deal with suspicion. It can almost invariably be allayed via diplomacy or bribery. At the very least I always know where I stand.”
Dalan stepped onto the tower bridge and climbed down the stairs. Eraina followed. Dalan smoothed one hand over the breast of his suit as he stepped out onto the street. The riders surrounded them. They held crossbows at the ready, half of them keeping a wary eye on the hovering airship.
“Speak your name and business,” the captain demanded.
“We are here on an official investigation on behalf of the Sentinel Marshals,” Eraina said, emerging beside Dalan. She snapped open a metal case, displaying her official seal. “We wish to purchase supplies so that we can repair our vessel and continue on to Korth.”
The captain stared at the seal for nearly a minute, with the air of a man who isn’t quite sure if he’s looking at an official document, and doesn’t know if it’s worth making a fuss about. “Marshal Eraina Deneith, eh?”
“My commanding officer is Marshal Kirin Galas, currently stationed in Korth,” she said. “You may contact him for verification.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” the captain said with a bored sigh. He peered up at the airship again, studying the vehicle cautiously. “As long as you move on quickly.”
“Expediency is our primary goal, I assure you of that, Captain,” Dalan said smoothly. “Now, if I might trouble you, could you please point me in the direction of a local carpenter or lumber mill? I wish to make a few substantial purchases.” He dug into his jacket pocket. “If it helps, I have a precisely detailed list …”
Dalan strode away with the captain in tow, grinning broadly as he discussed business. Eraina remained behind, noting that two of the Karrnathi soldiers remained behind at a respectful distance, watching the ship.
“That was unexpected,” said a gruff voice. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Eraina.”
Eraina glanced back as Zed Arthen stepped out of the tower beside her. He was wearing his long, shabby coat but had left his sword behind. He clenched a thin pipe between his teeth, drifting a plume of smoke over one shoulder.
“What are you talking about, Arthen?” she asked stiffly.
“Your vow of honesty,” he said, keeping his voice soft enough that the remaining soldiers would not hear. He nodded at them amiably.
Eraina glared at him coldly.
“Oh you didn’t lie, sure,” he said, “but you didn’t tell them the whole truth, either. I thought your vows were a little less flexible than that.”
“I told them precisely what they needed to know, and no more,” she said. “Do not question my dedication to my goddess.”
“A hair is a fine thing to split,” Zed said, “but it gets easier with practice. Be careful, Eraina.”
“Or what?” she said with a bitter laugh. “Am I to endure lessons in maintaining my vows from a knight who could not uphold his own?”
“Why not?” he asked, spitting a puff of smoke at her. “Nobody knows the way down better than me.” He straightened his heavy coat over his shoulders and headed off into the city.