by Roland Green
He was about to use private and personal knowledge about someone to whom his only ties were old friendship, not the Oath and the Measure, to advance the cause of the knights. Also of the knights' allies, and many others, the minotaurs probably included. But his honor would have been as much engaged if only one person was to be saved, as if it were a multitude. The Measure of the Knights of the Rose distinguished between public and private obligations; Pirvan himself had not grown accustomed to doing so.
"Now, my wife has old sell-sword comrades aboard nearly every ship in the fleet," Pirvan said. "All but those who worship the kingpriest in place of the gods will speak to her. They will also speak to the old fighters and sailors of Torvik's father Jemar the Fair.
"Haimya learned that Torvik's sister Chuina has been promoted to sergeant of archers aboard Windmaster's Gift. She sent Chuina a generous purse—from our own funds—celebrating that promotion. She also sent a letter, saying how worried we were about Torvik, as friends of his mother, his father, and his stepfather. Unless Chuina is a witling—"
"Or enemy to Torvik," Hawkbrother said. "As the last of four brothers, I can assure you that kin are not always friends."
"Chuina has never had Threehand's reasons to quarrel with you," Pirvan admonished the young knight. "But I am grateful for the reminder. Another time, we should think on it."
Hawkbrother looked gratefully at his wife's father, for sparing him embarrassment over interrupting with something the older knights knew perfectly well. Pirvan's reply was a grin. Young Eskaia had chosen well, even if she'd wed in haste; he would not have unmade her choice if he could.
"Sister spying on brother?" Sir Niebar said, frowning.
"Sister taking counsel with brother," Pirvan replied. "Knowing Torvik, who is no more a witling than his sister, he would not be silent unless he held a secret that was not his to reveal.
"But everyone possessed of such a secret needs to unburden himself to someone he trusts, to see if he must truly bear that burden. I do it with Haimya. Torvik has no wife, but I judge him to be willing to speak to Chuina and to hear her as well."
"But she is even younger than—" Hawkbrother began.
"—you?" Pirvan said. "Yes. And no older than your wife, my daughter Eskaia. I hope that does not mean you doubt Eskaia's wisdom."
Hawkbrother suddenly took on the air of one staring at a loaded and cocked crossbow ready to fling a bolt into his chest. His mouth opened.
Sir Niebar laughed, and then spoke quickly, to save the young knight further embarrassment. "Sisters can be positive oracles, if the secret involves a woman. I know. I was the youngest of five, and the elder four were all girls."
"No wonder you joined the knights," Pirvan said.
The sun had just begun to swell to the vast orange ball that would float on the horizon for a while before sinking into the sea when Zeskuk heard two sets of minotaur footsteps on the deck behind him.
He turned to see, instead, one minotaur and one human. Although the error was not surprising; the human was Sir Darin, who could look at least a third of Cleaver's crew in the eye. Zeskuk was enough taller than Darin that the knight had to look up at the minotaur. When the minotaur looked down, he saw something that he did not enjoy.
Darin wore no armor, but he wore sword and dagger. He also wore all his marks of rank as a Knight of the Sword, over a sleeveless jerkin in the minotaur style. This left his massive arms bare but for minotaur-work arm rings. Waydol's gifts.
The minotaur was Lujimar. In spite of the heat, he wore his full priestly robes, red with the spiked yellow borders, broad studded leather belt, dragon-wing bracelets, and white paint on his horns. All of this gave Zeskuk such a sense of foreboding that it was almost painful. The dreams of the fleet's perishing on the reef had not made him half so uneasy.
Being of a warrior race taught to triumph over pain, he let none of this show on his face. Instead he took the most formal stance, arms crossed on his chest. To use any other, he suspected, would be taken as suspecting treachery—and then he would be questioning Darin's honor, instead of the other way around.
Darin raised both arms, hands held with fingers spread to show that they were empty. "By the Oath and the Measure," the knight called, "declaring me Knight of the Sword in the Knights of Solamnia. By my prowess as a warrior. By my fostering by Waydol, a minotaur warrior of unequaled honor.
"Zeskuk," he continued, "chief over the minotaur fleet at Suivinari Island, wishes to depart and leave evil possessing the island save for what humans may do.
"That to do this is a wish that evil triumph.
"That to wish this, if one is not oneself evil, is a betrayal of the true gods of both men and minotaurs, of those sailors, both men and minotaurs, who may come to the island in the future, and to all those whom evil magecraft may put in danger, be they men, minotaurs, or any other race upon the face of Krynn.
"By wishing this, Zeskuk has betrayed his own honor. I call challenge upon him, that he may prove with his own arm and by his own blood his unimpaired honor."
Zeskuk doubted that he could learn anything by looking further at Darin or Lujimar. He would have given ten years off his life to be able to speak to them, but the laws bound him too tightly for that.
He could not inquire what Lujimar might have told Darin without first meeting Darin's challenge. Otherwise his honor would be in question for refusing a lawful challenge, and that would be handing the fleet over to Thenvor.
He would also have to defeat Darin. Otherwise the charge against him would stand, and Lujimar would have the right to refuse to answer any of his questions, or to appoint a champion if Zeskuk was foolish enough to question the minotaur mage's honor. Zeskuk had the sense of having been outmaneuvered and surrounded with sublime skill, on the deck of his own flagship. He looked around, wondering how the audience for this little drama was taking it.
He had never seen so many minotaurs so silent or so still aboard a ship, not since he first stepped aboard one when he was seven. He tried to calm himself with steady breathing, knowing that his reply would reach not only Thenvor's ears (which he could endure) but would be read by minotaurs for five generations to come.
Minotaurs, ha! "Men, minotaurs, or any other race upon the face of Krynn," or at least any who could read and knew war and honor. The thought of the scrutiny of that much posterity nearly clogged Zeskuk's throat. He waited until he could speak clearly before replying.
"I accept the challenge of Sir Darin, Knight of the Sword and fosterling of Waydol, to prove my honor unimpaired, with my own arm and my own blood.
"Those who speak for us shall set a time and a place, not farther from here than one hour's sailing from the shores of Suivinari Island and not later than four sunsets from this time. I further swear that if it is the judgment of this duel that my honor is flawed, I shall remain at Suivinari Island until my death or the defeat of the enemy. I shall also invite all sworn to me to remain with me, and do battle at my side."
He had thought of promising more, but even the most honorable and knightly minotaur-fostered human deserved only so much. Also, he could hardly have promised more in good faith. To try to bind Thenvor, for example, would have made challenges and mutinies sprout about him like weeds in an untended tomb-field, and would have undone any good that came from the match.
When he saw the tightness in Darin's face and stance, Zeskuk almost laughed. The knight was as little at ease over this challenge as he was.
"One sign that this fight is honorable, I think all can see," Zeskuk said. He raised his voice to be heard or at least to break the silence on deck before it played further havoc with his peace of mind. "Sir Darin is minotaur-sized, and taught to fight by a minotaur who was not the least warrior of his day. So I acquit Sir Darin of any intent to make me look as ridiculous as a minotaur usually does, fighting a human."
Darin actually smiled, which made Lujimar frown. "In time, perhaps, you should hear the full story of the fight between me and Waydol on the one han
d, and Sir Pirvan and his lady Haimya on the other," he said. "I assure you that no one and nothing in the fight was ludicrous, and it was only by the gods' favor that we all lived to fight again."
"Then let us hope for such favor this time as well, whoever stands first," Zeskuk said. He knew that was close to binding himself not to carry the fight to the death, but that was his firm intent anyway. The more people who knew this, the better.
The fewer people who knew why, however, also the better. And accidents could claim the most accomplished duelists. Zeskuk hoped Fulvura would understand it all, and not mourn in any unseemly fashion if his luck was out. He also hoped that the humans would attempt no treachery against her if the minotaurs did sail, but did not expect to need to avenge her.
By the time Fulvura went down, there would be such a pile of human dead atop her that the little ones would need to dig out her body before they could take her horns for trophies!
The flute and drums from Red Elf floated over the water, out past long bowshot to the boat where Torvik sat facing his sister Chuina.
She was a year younger than he and had not spent as much time afloat, but somehow looked older. Perhaps it was just her new sergeancy, that the flutes and drums (and the wine and the ale, the fish, the pickles, and the cakes, all bought with Lady Haimya's bounty) were celebrating aboard both Red Elf and Windmaster's Gift.
Certainly she had grown since he last saw her. If she had any more growing to do, she would be taller than he, with long arms well made for archery. She was also darker, and her hair grew in tight curls that she had now tied up with red and silver threads that did not quite match her heavy dwarven-work gold earrings.
"Those are new," Torvik said, for lack of anything else.
"A parting gift from a special friend," Chuina said, with a reminiscent smile.
Torvik frowned. She caught the change of expression. "What, brother mine? Surely you did not expect me to be a maiden after all this time?"
"Well, it has not been quite enough time to forget the little sister who wanted me to take her out in my first boat," he said. 'This reminds me of that day. Thinking of you as a grown woman comes a trifle hard."
Chuina patted his cheek. "There are rumors that thinking comes hard to you at all these days," she chided. "From some people I would believe nothing of the sort, but the tales have reached Lady Haimya. When she worries, only a fool ignores the tales."
Torvik had indeed been thinking since before dawn, but about only one thing, and that was not his sister's promotion. The message had been inscribed with a rock on a large fluted trumpet shell that he had found on his cabin deck in the pale gray of early morning. He had memorized it before the change of watch, and had not dared leave it lying about, so he had it in his belt pouch now. He silently pulled it out and as silently handed it to Chuina. She turned it over and over in her hand several times, then took a while to read the message. Torvik wondered if she doubted her eyes, needed to know the rest of the story, or could not make out Mirraleen's writing. The Dimernesti's talents did not include a fine, fair hand.
Without waiting for the question, Torvik told his sister the full tale. She listened in silence, holding the shell, then asked only: "Is this a trap, do you think?"
It was a question on which Torvik had pondered much without finding an answer. He spoke what he believed to be the truth. "There may be a trap along the course I take to her, but I do not think it will be she who sets it."
"Have you lain with her?"
This time Torvik was ready for his sister's frankness. "No, and not because I have not thought of it," he told her. "In elven guise she is very fair, although rather taller than I."
"That was not idle curiosity," Chuina persisted. "If rumor got about that you had—"
"I know what rumor will say," he cut her off, "and what those who listen might do. I am unclean, have lost my virtue to a lesser breed, and on and on like that to no purpose. Would you have me afraid of small-minded rattle-jaws and arrant witlings?"
"No, but you cannot keep me from being afraid for you." She licked her lips and said, "Could I come with you, to guard your back and summon help if a trap does spring?"
Torvik pondered again, then shook his head. "Mirraleen would suspect betrayal. She would also suspect it if I did not come, and consider what she offers."
"A way into the mage's stronghold, outflanking all his magic and monsters," Chuina said. "Yes. That is precious, if only to keep common folly from setting men and minotaurs at odds to no purpose."
"Then we agree, and you can help. Stay at your party, be seen by everybody, and hide as best you can the fact that I am gone. Lady Haimya doubtless thought she was doing us a service with that purse—"
"I saw you eat five helpings of the clams pickled in onion juice," Chuina joked. "You're a fine one to talk!"
"—but she made sure that both of us would be much sought-after. So you have to do the work of both of us," he finished.
"Well and good. I've always wanted to dance on the capstan."
"Dance on the capstan or the bowsprit. Dance in armor or starlight. Dance where and how you please, but keep everyone ignorant that your brother Torvik is—"
He broke off. From seaward, the breeze had carried to his ears the barking of sea otters.
Zeskuk hurried to Cleaver's aftercastle, and the crew made way for him without turning their eyes from the sea.
He followed where they were pointing and saw at least twenty, perhaps twice that, sea otters swimming rapidly eastward. They were staying just out of harpoon range of the ships, and Zeskuk sent a message to hail the few boats in the water, reminding them against any otter hunting.
He had warned the fleet on the matter after Torvik's tale reached him, but there were always fools who forgot the taste of the first drink by the time they ordered the fourth. He did not want to have to clap too many minotaurs in irons for the rest of the voyage, especially not any of Thenvor's folk.
Moreover, he was sure of one thing: If Torvik had any secrets the minotaurs needed to know, their killing sea otters would close the young human captain's mouth as thoroughly as if he were dead.
The sea otters swam out of sight and out to sea as the swift darkness of a tropical night came down on Suivinari Island.
Chapter 14
The humans had not only put the tent in a clearing deep in the forest, they had tied down the edges all around it, except for the front, which was guarded. So Horimpsot Elderdrake went in from the back of the tent, using a sharp knife. He did not cut the canvas because it was tough and this was his best knife. Also, the cut would show. Instead, he cut the ropes and vines tying down the edge of the tent, then lifted the canvas and crawled in. If he could get out again before anyone came by, he would pull the canvas, ropes, and vines back into place. Then nobody would see anything until daylight, when he would be far away.
The opening in the front of the tent let in enough light for Elderdrake to see that the guard was on duty but did not have his mind on it. He and a local farm girl seemed to be much more interested in each other than the guard was in watching the tent.
So Elderdrake could wander around the tent the way he sometimes wandered around a potter's shop in town, at least until the potter saw him and chased him out. He found every kind of horse gear, including saddles, bridles, and even some horse armor. There were helmets and breastplates for more men than the kender wanted to think about, also swords, knives, waterskins, boots, belts, and bandages. He found crates of hard bread, salted meat, and dried fruit, barrels of wine and ale, and even a few bottles of dwarf spirits.
Whoever had put all this here was obviously putting together a private army. Elderdrake could recognize the House Dirivan marking, and saw it on the crates and barrels. But why put the supplies here when the men were somewhere else?
Down here to the south of Tirabot, there were fewer eyes to see. If they saw the supplies with no men about—well, crates and barrels without men didn't make an army. If they saw the men c
oming, unarmed and walking, that also would not look like an army. Only when the men reached the tent would Tirabot Manor's enemies have an army. By then it would be too late for the manor.
Quite ingenious, for humans. In fact, Elderdrake was growing more impressed by the ingenuity of humans every day. Not their judgment—they were using all this ingenuity in a cause that no kender would have thought worth a cup of the cheapest wine—but their ingenuity.
A kender can be noisier than a dozen minotaurs or more silent than falling snow. Elderdrake was the latter, as he slipped out of the tent, covered his tracks, and hurried off to warn his friends.
Torvik had taken the smallest boat from those tied up around Red Elf. It was still intended for two pairs of oars, and muffling the one pair he was using made it slower still.
The only other choices would have been company, when he'd rejected even his sister's, or swimming. The second course didn't risk betraying Mirraleen so much as it risked his not reaching her at all. She had assured him that Wilthur's Creation would not strike near the fleet, but there was plenty of empty water between the fleet and where he was to meet her.
Also, Wilthur's pet might not be the only thing with a taste for human flesh swimming around in these dark waters. Sharks, giant eels, nagas, and dwarf kraken could all have appeared by now, drawn by curiosity about the noise the offal regularly flung into the water by the sailors.
The oars made only the faintest of thumps as the boat slipped across the smooth water. From time to time Torvik halted to tighten the sweat band that kept his eyes clear and to look over his shoulder for the landmarks.
Mirraleen had given him marks to steer by, whether the night was dark or clear. Tonight it was clear, but Nuitari was the highest of the moons, with Solinari only a faint glow from behind the Smoker. He had more light from a vent on the Smoker's flank, which every few minutes glowed yellow. By the yellow glow, he could see ash, steam, and hot gas spewing into the air.