“Why didn’t we send Snowshale?” Zed asked, looking up from his pipe. “He’s lighter.”
“Are you kidding?” Gerith asked. “Climbing something like that is insane.”
Seren looked at the halfling, then at the flying dinosaur he rode. Gerith shrugged.
“How long will that glue hold, tinker?” Pherris asked, ignoring their discussion.
“Three or four days at most,” Tristam said.
“Cragwar isn’t too far from here,” Pherris said. “We can put in for repairs.”
“Can’t you use your dragonmark to fix the damage?” Eraina asked.
“I cannot,” Dalan said. “I exhausted my rather limited talents fixing the ladder, and even had I not done so, I am wary about mixing magics-especially where the survival of everyone on board is concerned.” He glared at Eraina. “Now could someone perhaps explain why a Deneith Sentinel Marshal is on my ship?”
“I might as well ask you why you fly a ship unmarked with any symbols of house or nation,” Eraina said.
“A fair question,” Dalan said. “But the fact remains this is my ship, and that I have saved your life by allowing you to board it. What are you doing here?”
Seren was surprised that Eraina did not reply that she had saved Tristam’s life and possibly her own as well. The marshal only looked away.
“Marshal d’Deneith is one of my contacts,” Zed said, stepping between Dalan and Eraina. “I was meeting her when those Cyran mercenaries attacked. I assure you, we both appreciate the rescue.”
“My pleasure,” Dalan said graciously, as if it were all his doing. Though his tone was polite, his eyes were shrewd. “A pity we cannot risk returning you to your home in Black Pit. Cragwar will have to do. Of course you are welcome to stay with the crew if you like, Arthen. Your insights are much appreciated, assuming you remember your place. As for you, Marshal, I would be pleased to deposit you in Cragwar as long as you remain locked in one of the lower cabins until then.”
“I’m to be imprisoned?” she asked. “Is this the hospitality of House Cannith?”
“As you expertly pointed out, this is not a Cannith ship,” Dalan said. “If my proposed arrangement does not interest you,” he added, and stepped to his left, gesturing at the deck rail with a flourish, “there is your alternate exit. Feel free to utilize it. Surely your goddess will bear you safely to the ground.”
Eraina glared at Dalan in silent hatred but did not rise to his barbs. “I would appreciate a ride to Cragwar,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Excellent,” Dalan said. “Omax, escort the good Marshal to her cabin.”
The warforged nodded and stood beside the ladder leading below decks. Eraina offered Dalan a final scathing look and followed him below.
“Tristam, you are excused to your studies,” Dalan said. “I would like to discuss what just occurred privately with Zed and Seren.” Dalan returned to his cabin and stepped inside, not even offering Tristam a second glance.
Tristam blinked in surprise. “What?” he shot back. “You’re just sending me off to my room? Do you even realize that Marth’s ship …”
“Tristam,” Zed interrupted, fixing the artificer with a meaningful look.
Tristam glared at Zed, shrugged, and stormed off below deck. Seren watched the exchange with a curious expression, wondering what had just passed between them.
“What happened down there, Arthen?” Dalan asked as Seren and Zed entered his cabin. The old dog, Gunther, snored noisily on Dalan’s bed. Somehow it had managed to sleep through the entire escape from Black Pit.
“When I first saw that lens you gave me, it reminded me of something from Ashrem’s work long ago,” Zed said. “But I wasn’t sure. Eraina is a colleague of mine and has been conducting an investigation on a related matter, so I sent her a speaker post to get her insight. She agreed to meet me privately and booked the first Lyrandar ship, but she refused to meet me in the village. Some people just don’t trust me, I guess.” He smiled faintly at Seren.
“And you followed him?” Dalan asked, looking at Seren.
“Yes,” she answered. “We saw Eraina meet with Zed. The Cyrans attacked only a few moments afterward.”
“The soldiers wanted to take me alive,” Zed added. “When that didn’t work, the whole damned ship came after us. They might have killed Tristam if it wasn’t for the Marshal.”
“Interesting,” Dalan said. “And you saw their ship, Seren? Was there anything notable?”
“Not really,” Zed said, interrupting her.
Seren looked at Zed in confusion. “The ship looked like some kind of military vessel,” she said, looking back at Dalan. “Large and silver. I saw the Cyran crest, too. Just like the soldiers we fought before.”
“That seems rather distinctive,” Dalan said, brows rising. “Strange that an inquisitive missed all of that.”
“I didn’t get a good look at it,” Zed said. “I was running.”
Dalan grunted, unconvinced. He looked back at Seren. “Is that all you noticed of interest?”
“Other than getting attacked by some monster from the pit, yes,” she said. “But why question me about this? Tristam knows more about what’s going on than I do. I think he even recognized the …”
“Dalan is ignoring Tristam because the boy disobeyed orders,” Zed said, interrupting her again. “It was Tristam’s idea to follow me, wasn’t it? I’m guessing you were just looking out for him.” He reached into his pocket, took out the lens and a small book, setting them both on Dalan’s desk. “Incidentally, you can have these back, Dalan.”
“Thank you, Arthen,” Dalan said, plucking up the lens and examining it briefly for any damage. He placed it into one of his desk drawers, then tucked the book into a shelf. “He is precisely right, Seren. Tristam is an intelligent young man, but when he behaves in such a childish way I must treat him accordingly. He is too headstrong for his own good. On a ship like this, responsibilities are clearly delineated. To step outside one’s bounds, to disobey orders, is to risk all that we have worked for. If one cannot respect the chain of command, then one must either learn respect or leave.” He looked at Zed briefly.
“But if we hadn’t followed them, Zed and Eraina would have died,” Seren said.
“Wrong on two counts,” Dalan countered. “First, their lives are not our concern. No offense intended, Arthen.”
“None taken,” Zed said with a cynical chuckle.
“Second,” Dalan said, “you don’t know they were in danger. Any number of things might have occurred differently. The Cyrans did not wish Arthen to die. Perhaps they were only watching, saw you approach, mistakenly believed you intended to attack him and sought to capture him alive. Perhaps the Cyrans followed you-and you led them to Arthen. Perhaps your presence was irrelevant, but Arthen had contingencies in mind. After all,” Dalan pointed to the sword hilt protruding above the inquisitive’s shoulder, “he did attend the meeting armed.”
Seren looked at him. “Did you have a way out of there?”
“I had an escape tunnel prepared in that clearing,” Zed admitted. “I could have dashed out and brought it down behind me, but Omax never would have fit inside. I wouldn’t leave the big guy behind.” He gave a quick smile.
Seren nodded quietly. She suddenly felt very foolish.
“How noble,” Dalan said dryly. “Perhaps you retained some of your Thrane honor along with your Thrane steel.”
“You’re very funny, Dalan,” Zed said. “I’m laughing.”
“So how did you come to know this Sentinel Marshal?” Dalan asked.
“My contacts are confidential,” Zed said.
“As long as she is on my ship, she is my business,” Dalan said. “If you wish to retain her anonymity, I will gladly deposit her in the woods. On foot it should take her only five days to reach Cragwar, assuming she can forage for her own food and water.”
“Fine,” Zed said. “She’s a colleague, like I said. She’s an investigator for the Sentinel Marshals. We’ve met professionally a time or two and kept in touch through speaker posts. If you want more, just ask her yourself. She won’t lie to you. She can’t. She’s a paladin of the Host, for Khyber’s sake. We can trust her.”