“What amuses you so?” Epron said in a stony voice. He moved to sit beside Rubina, who did not resist his putting his arm across her shoulder.
“I was thinking that if you turned into a minotaur, you would probably crack one of the roof beams and bring this whole house down on our-”
He broke off, because Rubina had begun to cry. It needed no command from Birak Epron’s hard eyes for Pirvan and Haimya to rise and walk together out into the night.
* * * * *
Gildas Aurhinius climbed the swaying ladder from the fishing boat to the deck of his bannership, Winged Lady, with as much dignity as anyone could. He was fit and agile under the layers of fine clothing and good living, and he had never been seasick in his life.
The other captains accompanying him to sea were less fortunate. None of them fell into the sea, but two had to be hauled up in a net. Another, who had survived thus far, promptly knelt in the scuppers and spewed.
“There is a wizard aboard the Karthayan Pride of the Mountains who makes potions that work against seasickness,” the captain said. “Shall we signal him to come over?”
“Where is the Karthayan?”
The captain pointed. On the remotest horizon, silhouetted against the sunset, Aurhinius made out a three-masted ship with the yellow foresail that Karthayans commonly sported.
“My thanks, but I think we can leave the wizard in peace.”
It was an answer Aurhinius gave reluctantly, but with the knowledge that it was the right one. Bringing the wizard aboard might allow a private conversation, in which Aurhinius could inquire about priests of Zeboim and other such matters.
It might also drown the wizard on the way, or make him as seasick as those he came to heal, or put him in such a temper that he would be slow to answer questions put to him by a god. Also, he might be in league with the servants of Zeboim.
Aurhinius disliked situations in which he could not carry the fight to the enemy, pushing him off balance and forcing him to respond to Aurhinius’s moves. However, he had the patience to endure waiting if he must, and had won several battles and at least one campaign thus.
Neither did one have much choice, patience or no, if one did not know how many enemies one faced or where half of them were!
* * * * *
Darin swept the crumbs of hard bread from his lap. The mice in the walls promptly scurried out and began feeding. Waydol smiled and emptied his plate for his furry little tenants.
“Is there anything we have not settled to your satisfaction?” the Minotaur asked.
Darin wished he could say, “No,” but this was not the time to begin telling Waydol even the smallest lies.
“Yes. What if we win?”
“If they yield-”
“No. I mean, if they die.”
“I think we can manage to avoid killing them without too great a risk of losing the fight. Certainly if one is crippled, the other will most likely yield to save him or her.”
Darin thought of asking whether he and Waydol would follow the same rule, as he wished. But that would be treading too close to the border of a dishonor that no minotaur would ever accept.
“But if the worst happens-?”
“If the worst happens, then we will have killed a Knight of Solamnia. I will take the oath of peace from that sell-sword captain, Birak Epron, to settle the matter of the men. They will then be no danger to us, even if they do not join our ranks.
“Meanwhile, the Knights of Solamnia will be taking the field to avenge one of their own. They will end the war far more swiftly than those Istarians, who seem to be trying to fight the cheapest rather than the best war. Also, the knights are disciplined and well supplied, will not loot the country or mistreat the villagers, and will take prisoners and treat them with honor.
“To them, you may yield the band with some confidence that the men will at least be spared. If there is danger of the knights wanting your head, you may join me in the boat north-though I would trust the knights more than my own folk, given a choice.”
“I see.” At least Darin thought he did. The idea of arranging a fight so that defeat could be turned into victory, or the reverse, and with equal ease, would have been difficult to understand coming from a human captain. From a minotaur, even from Waydol, one had to force oneself at first to believe that neither the minotaur nor oneself had gone mad.
“There is something else that you did not see,” Waydol continued. His voice was harsher now. “No more than you saw the planning of treachery against Pedoon.”
“I cannot be everywhere, and spying on the men-can I have honor, and still trust men with none, even if I need them?”
“A dilemma, to be sure,” Waydol said, with infuriating blandness.
“Not one easily solved, when I have so much to do,” Darin snapped.
“I know that there is five times the work for a leader than there was before, and that you do nine parts in ten of it,” Waydol said reassuringly. “But that means you must spend some of your time training new underchiefs. Kindro and Fertig Temperer will not be enough if you are to lead the men after I am gone.”
“I will seek them after the fight. But what is the other thing that I did not see?” Darin was as close to anger with Waydol as he had been in many years, and knew that weariness was only part of it.
“Forgive me. I think you did not see it, because you were not in the right place. I could see more clearly how Pirvan and Haimya fought. It was as if one mind were controlling four arms and four legs.
“You and I have fought as partners in a few practice bouts, but never in real strife. I would wager that the knight and his lady have fought together for their lives more times than we have practiced. So our victory will be honorably earned, and by other than their deaths.”
“The way you put it, they might even win!” Darin exclaimed.
“Yes,” was Waydol’s only reply.
* * * * *
Sir Marod’s pen left a small blot on the parchment as he finished the letter. But the sand dried it along with the rest of the ink, and he was shortly able to read back over the letter with satisfaction.
Dargaard Keep
Fourth Holmswelt
Sir Niebar:
You are hereby directed and commanded to take three trusted knights and study the matter of a kender named Gesussum Trapspringer, unlawfully held captive at the Inn of the Chained Ogre, just west of the town of Bisel.
If you determine that you may need more men, you may draw on the men-at-arms at Tiradot Manor. You are not to communicate with the local kender community until you have freed Trapspringer and discussed the circumstances of his captivity with the innkeeper of the Chained Ogre.
I appreciate that this is the sort of work we commonly leave to Sir Pirvan. However, he has other tasks in hand, which he cannot leave. However, I command this action on the basis of letters from him, so you may know the information is reliable.
By the Oath and the Measure,
Marod of Ellersford
Knight of the Rose
The old knight folded and sealed the letter, then summoned a messenger to take it, as well as a servant to remove the remains of his dinner. He was eating alone in his chambers more often than he ought to of late, and less than even his aging body needed.
Yet there was so cursed much to be done, so little time to do it, and now nothing heard from Pirvan in so long that one had to prepare for the possibility of his death. Jemar the Fair was reported well and offshore, but he had scant power to affect anything happening on land.
Marod decided to keep a vigil on his arms tonight. He would have ill rest in any case. A vigil once a month was a requirement for Knights of the Rose, and perhaps it would even ease his mind as it was supposed to, according to the Measure.