She had her answers now. She could go back to Solamnia, find the knights, warn them of the dark knighthood's resurgence, and go back to her village and her home. She would not have to face horaxes or drunken knights or megalomaniacal generals ever again.
Of course, she would have to leave Cobalt behind. She could never realistically hide him for long around Connersby. She would have to leave the squires in the Sixth Talon, too. But they were adults; they could make up their own minds. They would probably be horrified to know she wanted something else for them.
So why couldn't she leave? All she had to do was get to her feet and start walking. If the dragons caught her or a patrol stopped her, she could always claim dementia from her concussion. The going would be difficult without Cobalt, but she could make it. She simply had to move-if she wanted to.
Instead, she remained on the ground, her ankle throbbing, her head aching, and her body getting colder by the minute.
Sara sighed and said wistfully to herself, "This would be a good time for a god or a goddess to send a sign, a vision, perhaps, or a spiritual enlightenment, something to help me decide what I should do!" It was a shame they had gone and left the poor mortals to slog through the mires of indecision alone.
It was all so confusing. She couldn't see into the future to guide her path. There was no one she could talk to, no way she could tell if staying in Neraka would do any good. All she had was a deep well of tenacity, a stubborn pride, and the very quiet voice of her heart.
Be still, whispered the tiny voice in her mind. Listen.
She knelt in the vast solitude while the wind soared around her and the great arch of the sky slowly darkened toward an early twilight.
At last she put her hands on the ground and pushed herself to her feet. Her knees refused to unbend at first, and she had to work the joints loose from their stiffened position. Blood flowed back into her feet, making them tingle. Slowly she stood upright, turned around, and walked back to Neraka.
Her heart had known what to do all along.
16
Sara found Fewmet eventually just outside one of the taverns not far from the ramshackle huts of the little Aghar colony and the mountainous city dump. The tavern's location was not auspicious for human business, but draconians and ogres did not seem to mind the constant low-level stench or the occasional ox-stunning odor that drifted over from the dump when the wind was right.
The stumpy gully dwarf was sitting on a wooden sidewalk, humming softly to himself and gnawing on a bone. When he saw Sara, he bobbed his head and offered her a shy smile, at the same time stuffing his bone out of sight in the rags of his shirt.
She squatted down beside him. "I've been looking for you," she said lightly.
He gazed at her in amazement. "Was I lost?"
"No," she chuckled. "I just didn't know where to find you."
He suddenly clutched his bone and glared at her suspiciously. "Why you look for Fewmet? No one look for gully dwarf."
"I just wanted to thank you for helping me the other night. That was very brave of you."
Fewmet's wrinkled face beamed. "Knight woman nice. Should not feed to horaxes."
Sara laughed. "No, I was very glad to get out of there."
The gully dwarf hunkered down and glanced both ways before he said, "I hear you fight mean knight who kicks gully dwarves."
"News certainly travels fast around here," Sara observed. "Yes, I challenged him."
"Good. I no like. You remember this: Knight have bad knee. 1 see sometimes. He go to many taverns in city."
Sara's brow drew together in a frown. "I've never noticed that Massard had a limp."
"Not always. He try to walk straight. But knee is weak. Remember when you fight." He wagged a filthy finger at her.
Sara thoughtfully tucked that piece of information away. She expected Massard would choose swords for weapons, which meant she would have little opportunity to exploit the gully dwarf's information. But one never knew when such a tidbit could come in handy.
Ignoring the nasty looks and rude remarks of the draconian customers, she went into the tavern and ordered a bowl of stew, a wedge of cheese, and a honey cake. The barman, when he heard what she was going to do with the food, insisted she pay for the utensils, too. Sara shrugged and paid, then carried the food outside to the gully dwarf. The barman flatly refused to let him eat inside.
Fewmet was delighted. He never got to eat an entire hot meal all by himself. Sara stayed with him, her sword close to her hand, just to ensure no one tried to interfere with his repast. Other gully dwarves gathered close by to watch enviously, but they dared not bother him while the quiet woman stayed beside him.
He shoveled in his food with both hands, licked every utensil clean, and ate the honey cake in three crumbly bites. Watching him, Sara guessed he could probably get a second meal just by combing his beard. She presented the bowl and plate to him as a gift and solemnly shook his hand.
When she left, he was busy stuffing his new dishes into his bag and humming the same tuneless song.
The appointed day of the duel came with the first clear sky Neraka had seen in weeks. The sun climbed into a flawless sky, and for the first time in days, the cold eased to a bearable cool. By noon, the weather was positively balmy for Neraka in late winter, which brought the crowds to the Arena of Death in droves.
Challenges among the knights had been rare lately due to the scarcity of officers, so a duel between two of the older knights was cause for much anticipation. The fact that one was a man and the other was a woman just made it more interesting. Betting grew heavy the morning of the duel, and by noon, Massard was favored two-to-one.
In the tents of the Red Quarter, the members of the Sixth Talon hovered around their junior officer until Sara wanted to scream. She appreciated their solicitous efforts to feed her and advise her and prepare her for battle, but all she really wanted was a little distance and some quiet to settle her nervousness. Instead, Derrick insisted he should polish and sharpen her sword. Saunder had found a mail shirt that fit her and was repairing a broken link. Marika fussed over her tea and toasted bread; Kelena polished her boots, and Jacson paced back and forth, demonstrating defensive moves she already knew.
Sara tried to smile and be gracious, but it became so difficult, she finally took her food and her weapons into her tent and firmly fastened the flap shut behind her. The five knights-in-training exchanged mournful glances and counted the minutes until noon.
In her tent, Sara drank a cup of her tonic for headaches and lay down on her cot to rest her head.
Knight Officer Massard appeared shortly thereafter, blowing in like a thunderstorm. He stamped around the tents and shouted, "On your feet, you yellow-backed spawn of gully dwarves. You have work to do." He sneered as they jumped to attention. "Yaufre, put that thing down. Conby won't be needing it. Put out that fire! Clean up this mess! What do you think this is, a latrine?"
Sara, still in her tent, decided wisely to stay out of sight. Sometimes discretion was the better part of valor. From his overly loud voice and ugly behavior, she got the impression he was trying to lure her out into the open. But this was neither the time nor the place to pick a fight with Massard.
Massard charged around, snapped orders like bolts of lightning, and punctuated his demands with furious insults. When he was satisfied at last with the order of the camp, he lined the recruits up before his tent.