Knights of the Sword

Chapter 8

Their cabin was small and sparsely furnished, and Pirvan realized that if their baggage ever did catch up with them, most of it would have to go into the hold. However, of most concern right now was that they were out of the wind and the rain, together, and alone.

They were just drifting off to sleep in a bunk barely large enough for one and distinctly cramped for two, when a fearful din from above jerked them both back to full wakefulness. To Pirvan it sounded as if the Servants of Silence might have followed them and were now trying to carry Windsword by boarding.

He leaped out of bed, snatched for his clothes and sword with one hand, and with the other tried to gather up decent garb and adequate weapons for Haimya. He ended by thrusting both of his legs into one leg of his breeches and falling on his face hard enough to cut his lip when he tried to leap for the ladder.

When he rose, all he could see of Haimya was bare shoulders, one bare arm holding a sword, and a face rapidly turning bright red from holding in laughter. About that time, Pirvan also recognized Kurulus’s voice, cheerfully reporting the arrival of everybody’s baggage and a few new hands.

Pirvan was curious about that last item, but not so curious that this time he failed to dress properly and appear on deck like a knight, complete to weapons and low boots. He nearly tripped again, over a line on which several sailors were hauling, but leaped over it as a chest he recognized as his and Haimya’s spare armor swung into view.

The clatter and clang of loading made conversation impossible; Pirvan went to the side to be out of the way. It was then that he saw Grimsoar One-Eye’s Sea Leopard close to port, and equally close to starboard a ship he didn’t know but which flew the Encuintras banner at two mastheads and the aftercastle. That, he supposed, was Kurulus’s ship.

And here came Kurulus himself, grinning rather like a kender who’s just made off with a whole crock of piping-hot biscuits and somebody’s wedding cake from a baker.

“All well?” Pirvan asked.

Kurulus laughed aloud. “Oh, we’ll be telling our grandchildren about this night. We got to the inn in fine style, hiring a few porters on the way with that purse of Jemar’s.

“It took more than the key to prove we had the right to enter your room. Also, a few of the servants seemed ready to slip out and tell someone-I’ll name no names-about us.

“So we had to climb the stairs as if the water were rising at our heels. We entered the chambers, picked up everything we could carry-”

“Not being too careful whether it belonged to us or the inn?” Pirvan interrupted.

“Sailors in a hurry don’t much care to read badges, if they can read at all. Anyway, we got clear, and with a little help from a carter we persuaded to go out of his way-”

“Did you steal his cart, or just force him to drive it down to the harbor?”

“Ask no questions and you’ll hear no sea stories,” Kurulus said, so piously that Pirvan burst out laughing.

“And then?”

“Well, the four of my lads who’d taken you down to Jemar’s boat then launched ours, and warned my own Thunderlaugh. We put our launch over the side, then hoisted anchor and drifted down to join you. I reckoned that three sea barbarian ships and the Encuintras flag is enough protection from anything the kingpriest is likely to send after us.

“If he whistles up the whole Istarian fleet, we’re fish food, but I’d wager all the wine aboard that he’ll do no such thing. There’s plenty in Istar who think virtue means honoring the gods instead of just a man who thinks he’s one.”

Drums began thudding, calling the hands to make sail, and Pirvan stepped aside as men swarmed toward the ratlines to go aloft and toward the sheets to work from the deck. Kurulus gave Pirvan a bone-crushing handshake, then swung over the side into his launch.

Lunitari was shining again, though veiled by clouds, and Pirvan saw, one by one, the sails shaken out and swelling with the wind. Then the drums and pipes beat for the capstan hands to raise anchor, and Pirvan himself ran forward to push on the bars, smoothed by many years of sailors’ hands.

It was not knight’s work, but at this moment Pirvan would have mucked out pigsties to speed his departure from Istar.

* * * * *

They had a slow but easy voyage to Karthay, with many fluky or contrary winds, but no storms. By the second day Haimya had her sea legs, and although she still looked pale, she could sway with the motion of the ship and lock one arm around the standing rigging as if she’d been at sea half her life.

They passed so far offshore of the Flower Rocks that Pirvan had to climb to the maintop to get a glimpse of them, dark and low above the sun-dappled water. There he, Haimya, and Tarothin had helped save Golden Cup, at the price of narrowly escaping drowning and a sea naga.

Now the sea sparkled and danced so that it was hard to believe it could hold anything dangerous. Rainbows of spray rose as the four ships sliced through the little waves, sails flapped and filled alternately with drum cracks, and gradually the coast of the Bay of Istar fell behind them.

Three days brought them into sight of the mountains beyond Karthay, without bringing any sign of pursuit. Pirvan wondered aloud at this, and his curiosity was hardly idle. He had much to do in Karthay, whether they went seeking the Minotaur’s outlaws or not. He could do it faster if he did not have to slip through the shadows of the city, to avoid its own rulers or the Servants of Silence.

Jemar tried to put him at ease. “To my mind, the danger of pursuit ended at the waterfront. The Istarian fleet’s mostly commanded by the merchant families. They’ll not take kindly to chasing a ship of House Encuintras.

“Nor will they be too happy over the Servants of Silence. Custom has been for the temple guards to stay in the temple precincts. Sending sworn killers roaming about the streets could bring down the kingpriest, or at least leave him with no power except to decide when he should go to the privy!”

Pirvan could only hope that Jemar was right. The sea barbarian chief believed in little except his own strength and shrewdness, for all that he professed to honor Habbakuk, Lord of Mariners. He did not know how corrupting it could be to tell a man that he is virtuous above all others.

At least the Knights of Solamnia required that one practice the virtues-and made their practice so demanding that one had no time to sit and think how wonderful one was. Without that discipline in their followers, the kingpriests were threatening to sow corruption in the name of virtue.

* * * * *

On the fourth day, they found themselves off an anchorage on the western shore of the bay. On the charts it bore the name “Istariku.” In a dialect so ancient that only a handful of scholars and clerics knew more than a few words of it, this meant “Eye of Istar.”

What that eye had been meant to watch in the days when the anchorage gained its name, no one knew. Today it plainly was meant to watch Karthay and the mouth of the bay, neither more than a day’s good sailing from the anchorage.

There were also ruins on the hills that suggested Istariku might once have been a considerable town, but of more interest to the travelers was a small village of tents on the shore. Also on the shore, drawn up on the beach, were a dozen light galleys, and anchored in deeper water were several heavier ships, some clearly merchant vessels, but others flying the banners of the Istarian fleet.

Kurulus volunteered to take his Thunderlaugh in to see if he could find buyers for some of his cargo. Even more important, he would seek out captains who might grow loose-tongued after enough wine.

“Everybody expects the worst of sea barbarians when it comes to a drinking bout,” he said. “They’ll have suspicion close to their hearts and their hands close to their steel. But House Encuintras will be my shield and my staff.”

Jemar could not but agree. He also could not help cautioning Kurulus not to presume too much on his house flag. “From what I have heard, old Josclyn Encuintras is not what he was, and may not be here to help us much longer.”

Kurulus lowered his voice so that only Jemar, Pirvan, and Haimya could hear him.

“That’s what he wants the world to think. I’d wager the price of one of those galleys that he’ll see out another ten years. He might even welcome a good brawl with the kingpriest while he’s young enough to enjoy it. He’ll enjoy even more finding out who in his house will kiss the kingpriest’s arse, and turning them into fish food.”

As Josclyn Encuintras would not see seventy again (Eskaia was the last child of his third wife and the only survivor out of four they had borne him), Kurulus’s tribute made Pirvan briefly jealous. At barely half the old man’s age, he thought as often of the pleasures of hearth and home as the honor of smiting foes.

But then, he had Haimya, which Josclyn Encuintras did not.

* * * * *

Kurulus took Thunderlaugh into Istariku at midmorning, while Jemar’s three ships began their beat offshore to Karthay. Kurulus might have departed sooner, save for an argument begun by Rubina, who thought that she might well learn much that was useful if allowed to accompany Kurulus.

Tarothin not only looked displeased but said more than he should have, in Pirvan’s opinion. Rubina looked displeased in return, but said nothing.

Jemar played peacemaker. “My lady, I doubt not that your power to make men babble exceeds that of the finest wine. Nor do I question your right to use whatever powers you see fit to loosen their tongues.” This last was said with a sharp look at Tarothin.

“But merely by going aboard Thunderlaugh you will reveal more than you learn. Our enemies will learn, sooner rather than later, that a Black Robe accompanies us, a Black Robe of Karthay. Consider that this might arouse suspicion enough to make some captain willing to defy the might of House Encuintras to make trouble for us.”

Rubina nodded slowly. “True enough. I am one of those weapons best brought out only at dire need. Also, the more help I can give Sir Pirvan in making the best use of his time in Karthay, the better for us all.”

Pirvan hoped she was referring to their plans to recruit mercenaries, with or without the help of the rulers of Karthay and the eyes and ears of the Solamnic Knights in the city.

The Black Robe then rose slightly on tiptoe and brushed her lips against Tarothin’s ear. “Also, I would be depriving myself of your company. It would take a greater prize than anything I could learn from the Istarians to make that worthwhile.”

Her tone almost oozed sincerity, and Pirvan understood clearly the impulse that he had read on the faces of a good many of his fellow voyagers:

Throw this wench overboard and her black bedgowns after her. Nothing she can do for us is worth listening to her in the meanwhile.

But a knight was sworn to both honor and prudence, and disposing of Rubina at this point in the quest would show neither. Also, they were going to need all the help they could obtain to muster enough men to carry out their plans.

So Rubina stood with Tarothin on the aftercastle of Windsword and waved farewell to Kurulus as he turned Thunderlaugh in toward the anchorage, from which boats were already putting out to greet him.

* * * * *

The Boatsteerer was a fair-sized inn of moderate comfort and with a discreet landlord, in the West Port quarter of Karthay. Even if the landlord had not had a reputation for discretion, according to the knights’ watcher in the city, he had prudence enough to develop that gift when dealing with Jemar the Fair.

The sea barbarian had never had the name of a bloody-handed killer for pleasure. He did have the name of one with a long memory for indiscretion or betrayal, and a short way of dealing with the indiscreet or treacherous when he caught up with them.

From a back room in the Boatsteerer, Pirvan and Jemar set out to recruit a band of warriors sufficiently numerous and redoubtable for their purposes. Haimya offered what help she could, but she was years past her sell-sword days, and more than a few of her old comrades were retired or dead, as were all but a few distant kin.

Grimsoar went about the streets, picking up the odd sailor or craftsman through his knowledge of both the seafarers and those who practiced night work, not to mention a few old friends from his days as a wrestler. He was also the one charged with procuring weapons, as the lords of Karthay might well grow uneasy if they saw the same men both recruiting soldiers and assembling armory.

Pirvan was not, to his dying day, sure whether Rubina helped or hindered. It took him equally long to forget one evening at the Boatsteerer, when Rubina chose to join him and Jemar in discussing the hire of fifty men through one Birak Epron.

Epron was a sell-sword of some reputation, so short and wiry that one might suspect kender blood in him, save for the fact that at first he was about as talkative as one of the inn’s tables. He sat on his bench opposite the three questers, sipped from a single large cup of ale, answered questions with single words or grunts, and asked only two questions during the whole earlier part of the evening.

One was “What is the bounty on Waydol’s head?”

“That depends on how many other heads we bring in besides Waydol’s,” Pirvan said. “There are ten towers a man for everyone in the expedition that brings down Waydol, and much honor besides. If we bring down the rest of his band as well-why should generals with golden helmets to protect empty heads garner it all?”

“Because Aurhinius’s head is not empty,” Epron said, which was the longest speech he’d made thus far.

Pirvan decided that he would not again try to persuade a seasoned sell-sword that the quest would be easy.

The second question came later, and was “Have you healers with you?”

Rubina answered that, before either of the men could speak. “Of course we do. Any wizard of my stature can command healing spells, perhaps not of the highest order, but sufficient to keep alive many who would otherwise be dead.

“I am no follower of Mishakal, but if you will offer a pain to my healing, I think I will prove satisfactory.”

A cunning look came to Birak Epron’s face, and he found his tongue. “If you must lay hands on what most needs healing, this room is no place for it. It’s against my nature to remove my breeches save behind a closed door.”

“Then by all means let us repair to a room with a door that can be closed,” Rubina said. She rested a hand on Epron’s shoulder, and Pirvan would have sworn that he actually floated several fingers clear of the bench before his boots touched the floor.

Rubina had her head on his shoulder, and he had his arm around her waist, by the time they reached the foot of the stairs to the sleeping chambers. It did not help that it was at that same moment that Tarothin entered the room.

He looked at Rubina disappearing up the stairs with another man, and his face turned the same color as his robes. He looked about to burst into furious oaths-or cast a spell to make the inn burst into flames.

Before he could do either, Jemar rose, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Tarothin, leave be! You are too old not to know a lightskirt, even if her skirts be black. You are too young to let one make a fool of you. And by Habbakuk and Kiri-Jolith, you are too wise to know that a lightskirt will not change her ways for your charms, such as they may be!”

For a moment, Pirvan thought he was going to need to step between the sailor and the wizard, lest they come to blows. Certainly that fear was on the face of everyone within earshot, which probably included everyone in the Boatsteerer and in the street outside!

Tarothin at last took a deep breath, forced his hands down to his sides, and licked his lips.

“Pirvan, make my apologies to your lady, and to others whom you think deserve it. I find that I cannot continue on this quest. Rubina commands all the magic you will need, even if she cannot command herself any better than Jemar.”

The sea barbarian took on the look of a bull walrus about to attack. “I command both myself and my ships. And I say that if you think otherwise, then you can spare yourself ever setting foot aboard any vessel of mine!”

“That will be a pleasure I did not anticipate,” Tarothin nearly snarled, and he strode out so furiously that he collided with a serving boy and brought down both boy and a tray of dishes with a resounding crash.

“This does not seem to have been the best-spent evening since we met,” Jemar said, somewhat later. It had taken some while for the men to pay the landlord for the damages and for Haimya to use her old field-nursing skills to patch up the boy. He would hurt more on the morrow than if Rubina had healed him, but no one was prepared to seek out the Black Robe and interrupt her “healing” of Birak Epron.

Pirvan shortly thereafter declared himself exhausted and strode off for the chamber he shared with Haimya. He was not in the least sleepy, but the need for sleep would serve well enough as an excuse to avoid others until his own temper healed.

He would not have believed Tarothin capable of such folly as that jealous rage. He did not believe Rubina would prove any kind of an adequate replacement for Tarothin, for Karthayan or kender, for she was a Black Robe and therefore a servant of Takhisis. The Dark Queen stood for all that Paladine, patron of the Knights of Solamnia, opposed.

He even wondered if it was lawful, let alone prudent, for him to continue on the quest.

The one consolation he found before he blew out the candle was that he had actually grown sleepy while washing himself and pulling on his nightshirt.

* * * * *

There was someone in the room with Pirvan, and he had his dagger out from under the pillow the moment after he realized this. Then he lay perfectly still-until, by the smell and sound of breathing, by the sound of clothes being removed and boots being slipped off, he recognized Haimya.

He needed no further recognition, but he had it anyway as she slipped into the bed and threw her arms around him from behind. Her warm breath was soft and soothing on the back of his neck. He slipped the dagger back under the pillow and lay still.

“Kurulus has returned,” Haimya said at length. “He says it would be well to make haste, to set our plans afoot. More ships-twenty at least, and soldiers in proportion-are gathering in Istar, to join those already here.”

Pirvan frowned. The plan was simple enough: Jemar would carry Pirvan and some two hundred mercenary soldiers across the bay and land them secretly. They would then march overland, toward the region where Waydol the Minotaur held sway.

Meanwhile, Jemar would sail out of the Bay of Istar, carrying another hundred hired swords, and proceed westward, to meet his remaining ships and men. He would bring them to the coast where Waydol’s stronghold was believed to lie, at the same time as the marching column reached its landward side. Then, having no need to collect Waydol’s head or anyone else’s in order to accomplish their plan, the companions would offer Waydol and even his band safe passage beyond the reach of Istar’s fleets and armies.

If Istar was going to send further strength for sea and land into the north, however, it was now a race. It was not only a race of the companions to reach Waydol’s stronghold before Aurhinius did. It was also a race of the companions against Istar’s preventing Jemar from sailing or the sell-swords from marching.

Also, there was the danger that the Istarians, in their arrogance, might do this by blockading Karthay or landing soldiers in territory that the Karthayans considered they ruled directly, rather than Istar. Either could make the breach between Istar and Karthay open. Preventing that open breach was the whole purpose of Pirvan and Haimya assembling their companions and resources and leaving hearth and home at the behest of the Knights of Solamnia!

Even Haimya’s warmth against him did not ease Pirvan.

She felt that tautness and unease in him and drew him harder against herself. “What troubles you, my lord and love?”

He told her of his thoughts and added his disgust with Tarothin. “I do not know if a man is ever too old to make a fool of himself over a woman. But Tarothin is far too old to throw a tantrum like that, and to endanger sworn companions by it.”

He felt Haimya shaking then, and started to roll over, wanting to hug her and kiss away the tears that would be falling in the next moment.

What happened in the next moment, instead, was her teeth nearly meeting in the lobe of his left ear. The pillow fortunately stifled his yell, and by the time the pain had faded he realized that Haimya was not weeping but quite the reverse.

“My lady,” he whispered. “You can have a pillow to stifle your laughter. But if you do not tell me the jest afterward, I shall stifle you.”

Slowly, Haimya sobered. “I wish we could have told you before,” she began, “but we knew-”

“We?”

“Jemar, Tarothin, and myself. I believe Grimsoar guessed, but he can hold his tongue and countenance.”

“You are adding to the mystery, rather than dispelling it,” Pirvan said, wearily. “Please go on.”

“Simply enough, the quarrel was feigned. Tarothin remains behind, his loyalty to Istar and the kingpriest apparently restored. With a trifle of luck and a few bribes, for which Jemar has provided the silver, Tarothin will be able to sail with the Istarian fleet. This gives us eyes, ears, and magic among our enemies-or at least those who may become so.”

Pirvan shifted position. The warmth of Haimya beside him was so comfortable that he would have gone back to sleep if his mind had not still been whirling like a carnival dancer.

“Did you not trust me?”

“Your honor, yes. Your face, no.”

“My face?”

“It would have been a scroll on which enemies might read what they ought not to. I suppose you were too honest as a thief to be a good actor, and of course you have been a Knight of Solamnia for ten good years-”

It was a while longer before Haimya finally persuaded Pirvan of the truth of the matter. When at last she did, his first reply was to laugh softly into her hair.

Then he took her in his arms.

“Well, I may not be the actor Tarothin is, but I have one blessing for the rest of this quest that he lacks.”

“And that is?”

“He must remain celibate for the remainder of this journey. I, on the other hand-”

Haimya ended the conversation with her lips.