by Lisa Smedman
Karrell stared at the approaching boat. “Is it dangerous?”
It took Arvin a moment to realize she was talking about the eagle. “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he said. “They wouldn’t use a bird that wasn’t tame. They probably raised it from a hatchling.”
Karrell seemed unconvinced. As the riverboat drew up to them, dropping anchor next to the island, she took a step back. The eagle—taller than a human and looming even larger from its perch on the bowsprit—flapped its massive wings in agitation, stirring up ripples in the water on either side of the boat. It must have sensed Karrell’s uneasiness, for it snapped its beak in her direction. The driver—a human with close-cropped brown hair—gave the reins a quick yank, jerking the bird’s head back. He stood on the bow, just behind the bowsprit.
“Sorry,” he called out. “She usually isn’t this skittish.”
Arvin’s mind was on other things. By now, the elf would have told everyone at Riverboat Landing about their narrow escape from the naga—and the role that “Vin” had played in it. The chances were slight that the sailor would have mentioned Arvin’s pack and the “strange-looking rope” that had spilled from it. But if he had, and Zelia had overheard….
Arvin glanced quickly over the boat’s open deck. Besides the driver, the crew included two sailors—one working the tiller at the rear of the boat and one amidships—and two guards. As before, they were stationed at rail-mounted crossbows on either side of the boat. Their eyes ranged warily over the river.
Zelia wasn’t on board. Arvin breathed a sigh of relief.
The sailor lifted a gangplank over the side of the boat; Arvin caught the end of it and placed it firmly on the island’s rocky shore. Then he made his way across it. Karrell followed, keeping him between her and the eagle. “Don’t worry,” Arvin said over his shoulder. “I’m sure the driver will hold it in check.”
The eagle turned, keeping a baleful eye on Karrell as she approached the boat.
Arvin climbed aboard and turned to help Karrell, but the sailor was there first, handing her a woolen blanket. She took it but ignored his urgings that she wrap it around her shoulders. Arvin, whose clothes were also still sodden, wasn’t offered a blanket.
“Will we be continuing to Ormpetarr?” Arvin asked.
The sailor—a man with calloused hands and uncombed hair—shook his head. “Nope. Back to Riverboat Landing to finish loading.” His eyes lingered appreciatively on Karrell.
Arvin fought down his uneasiness. “But I need to get to Ormpetarr quickly,” he protested. “I have important business there that mustn’t be delayed.”
The sailor grunted. “Where we go next depends on how much coin you’ve got. Speak to the captain.” He jerked his head in the direction of the man on the bow. Then, together with the second sailor, he crossed the gangplank to the island and surveyed the five bodies Karrell and Arvin had recovered from the river. Karrell had laid them out in a neat row, arranging their arms at their sides and closing their eyes before the bodies stiffened.
Arvin approached the captain. The eagle had settled down, allowing him to slacken the reins. Arvin repeated his plea to journey directly to Ormpetarr, but the captain shook his head.
“She’s only half loaded,” he said, nodding at the deck beneath his feet. He glanced at the two sailors, who were carrying the first of the bodies to the ship. “It’s not worth my while, unless….”
Arvin took the hint. He dug his coin pouch out of his boot and jingled it. “How much?”
The captain gave the pouch a brief glance then shook his head. “More than that can hold, even if every coin in it is a plume.”
Arvin lowered his pouch. Normally, he’d have manifested a charm to help things along, but he’d expended every bit of energy his muladhara could provide. Not until after tomorrow morning’s meditations and asanas would he be able to manifest his powers. “When we reach Ormpetarr, I’ll be meeting with Dmetrio Extaminos, prince of Hlondeth and ambassador to Sespech. He will reimburse you for your losses.”
The captain thought about this. “I’d need some sort of security. Something of value. Do you have any magical devices?”
Arvin hesitated. He’d no sooner give up his glove, bracelet, or knife than he would another fingertip, and while he did have magical ropes, he didn’t want word of them reaching Zelia’s ears. If she was still at Riverboat Landing when this crew returned in a few days’ time, she’d quickly realize who “Vin” was.
The captain grew impatient. He glanced at the sailors, who were struggling to lift the last of the bodies on board—that of the husband. The headless corpse was as stiff as a beam of wood. They angled it down through a hatch and into the hold, on top of the other bodies, then closed the hatch and hauled up the rope ladder.
“Bodies stowed,” one of the sailors reported. “We’re ready to go.”
“Right,” the captain said, gathering up his reins. “Back to Riverboat Landing, then.”
Arvin decided to take the chance. “I do have a magical device,” he said, shrugging the pack from his shoulders. The captain of a riverboat would surely recognize the value of the trollgut rope. “It’s a valuable one. Here, let me show you.”
“Sure you do,” the captain scoffed.
Karrell touched Arvin’s arm, startling him—she’d come quietly up behind him during the conversation. “Allow me,” she murmured. She said something in her own language then turned to the captain, making a pleading gesture. “I, too, must reach Ormpetarr quickly,” she told him. “My mother is ill, and I have magic that can cure her. If I am delayed even one day….”
Arvin was impressed with the quaver she managed to inject into her voice.
The captain gave a hesitant frown. “I don’t know. I—”
“I can compensate you for your losses,” Karrell said. She reached into the pouch at her belt and pulled from it a grape-sized, multifaceted gem the color of new grass. Normally, Arvin wouldn’t have had the first idea of what it was—or its value. But a little of the knowledge he’d gleaned from Zelia’s mind seed remained—enough to tell him it was a spinel, and valuable due to its unusual color.
“Please,” Karrell continued. “Won’t you accept this? It is all I have left—it cost me everything else I had to get this far. But if this will help me to reach my mother before it is too late, I will gladly give it to you.”
“Keep it,” the captain said gruffly. “You’ll need it.” He turned to Arvin and held out a hand. “You, on the other hand, can pay for your passage. Twenty plumes.”
It was more than twice the amount normally charged, but Arvin handed over the coins without complaint.
The captain shouted down to his crew. “Make ready. We’re making for Ormpetarr.”
When the riverboat was underway, Arvin walked with Karrell to the stern, where they seated themselves on a raised hatch. “Nicely done,” he said, nodding in the direction of the captain. “You’re handy with a charm spell.”
Karrell tilted her head. “As are you. But I would advise you not to cast one on me a second time.”
“What makes you think I charmed you?” Arvin asked, feigning innocence.
Karrell just stared at him.
Arvin shrugged. “Well, you charmed me first, so that makes us even.”
Karrell tossed her head. “I never—”
Arvin raised a finger. “Yes, you did. I wouldn’t have … made such a fool of myself, otherwise.”
“All men are fools,” she said. Then, as Arvin drew himself up to protest, she smiled. “And so are some women, at times.”
Arvin nodded. To a woman as beautiful as Karrell, the men constantly gaping at her must indeed seem fools. Drawn by the eagle, the riverboat traveled swiftly. The wind of its passage swept through Karrell’s hair, drawing it back and revealing her jade earring and the smooth curve of her neck. Even without the charm spell, Arvin felt a rush of longing for her.
She leaned toward him. “When we get to Ormpetarr—”
“I know
,” Arvin said. “You want me to introduce you to Ambassador Extaminos.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me why you want to meet him so badly. The real reason. Is it connected with whatever it is you’re looking for?”
Karrell was silent for several moments. The only sounds were the steady whup-whup of the eagle’s wings and the creak of the hull timbers.
“Yes,” she answered at last. “Dmetrio Extaminos may know where it is. I simply want to ask him a few questions.”
“That’s all?” Arvin asked.
Karrell met his eye. “That is all. I do not intend harm to the ambassador.”
“I see.” Arvin wanted to believe Karrell, but everything pointed to her being a rogue, out to steal something of Dmetrio’s. A rogue armed with clerical magic, as well as natural beauty—but even so, she needed someone to help her earn Dmetrio’s trust, to get her inside. Arvin sighed, wondering if he would ever be free of rogues and their schemes.
“You’re going to charm Dmetrio,” he said. It was an easy enough guess—that was the tactic Arvin had planned to use. “And get him to give you … whatever it is you’re looking for.”
Karrell’s silence was answer enough.
Arvin pictured her luring the ambassador into her bed—once there, any man would gladly give her whatever it was she wanted. The image of the ambassador’s scaly body coiled around hers repulsed Arvin.
“How about this,” he offered. “I’ll be meeting with the ambassador in his residence. Just tell me what it is you’re looking for, and I’ll try to find out where it is. I’m … pretty good at spotting things.”
Karrell tilted her head. “You are asking me to trust you.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What is it you are looking for? Or rather … who?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Karrell stared at him, waiting.
Arvin sighed. “Point taken.”
Karrell shifted her gaze to the captain. “I am helping you to reach Ormpetarr—and to avoid the woman you so fear. Without my assistance….”
“Fine,” Arvin sputtered. “I’ll introduce you to the ambassador. But not until after my business in Ormpetarr is concluded.”
He was hedging, of course. The last thing he needed was a member of House Extaminos’s royal family linking him with a theft. One yuan-ti wanting him dead was trouble enough. But Karrell seemed to accept his offer; after giving him a long, measuring look, she nodded.
“In the meantime, no more charm spells,” Arvin insisted. “Agreed?”
“Agreed.” She touched a hand to her heart and looked sincere, but Arvin vowed to be careful, even so.
The rest of the journey passed too swiftly—and too slowly—for Arvin’s liking. Too swiftly, because once they reached Ormpetarr, he would probably never see Karrell again. Too slowly, because, despite his best efforts to pass the time in conversation, he kept saying things that irritated her—that made him wish the journey were already over. When the riverboat stopped for the night at Halfway Station, a hamlet even smaller than Riverboat Landing, he’d struck up a conversation about Hlondeth over dinner, telling her how pleased he was to be away from the city of serpents. He cautioned her that the yuan-ti were a devious and cruel race that cared little for humans. It was merely intended as a warning that the members of House Extaminos were dangerous folk to anger, but she seemed to take this to imply that she couldn’t take care of herself. After the meal, she curtly declined Arvin’s offer of a mug of mulled wine and his invitation to linger at their table beside the fire, and turned in to bed.
The next day, when their journey resumed, she spoke little. She stared over the rail, watching the riverbank slide by. Arvin tried once more to engage her in conversation, asking if it ever snowed in the Chultan Peninsula, but though she smiled at him as they chatted, the smile never quite reached her eyes. After a while, he gave up on conversation and instead stared at the passing scenery, watching as the riverboat left the river behind and slid out onto a broad, open lake.
It was well after sunset before they caught sight of their destination. Like the other cities of the Vilhon Reach, Ormpetarr had been built centuries ago and had long since outgrown its walls. A scattering of buildings spread for some distance up and down the lake. Most appeared to be connected with the fishing industry; the small amount of moonlight that penetrated the clouds gave Arvin a view of racks used for drying fish, and a number of boats that had been drawn out of the water for the winter. The buildings themselves were little more than blocks of darkness from which squares of light shone—windows, Arvin realized after a moment, square, rather than round.
As the riverboat drew closer to the city proper, these squares of light became numerous and clustered closer together.
At last Ormpetarr’s harbor came into view. The city was walled even on the side that fronted the lake; the stout stonework was punctuated by a series of heavy wooden gates, each lined up with a pier that ran out into the river. More than a dozen riverboats were tied up there. Most were empty, their sails furled, but a few were disembarking passengers and unloading freight.
The city seemed dark to Arvin, who was used to the constant glow of Hlondeth’s magically quarried stone, but somehow he found that comforting. In Ormpetarr there would be plenty of shadows, plenty of places to hide from Zelia. And what light there was—the glow of street lanterns and the light that shone out of the windows—was warm and yellow and welcoming, rather than an eerie green.
The riverboat drew up to one of the piers. Once the sailors had tied the boat fast, Arvin gathered up his pack and climbed down onto the pier. Karrell immediately followed. The planks underfoot were treacherous with half-melted ice; at one point she slipped, and he caught her arm. She smiled her thanks to him and continued to cling to his arm as they walked up the pier.
“Which inn are you staying at?” she asked.
Arvin gave her a wry look. Was she going to suggest they share a room? “I won’t be staying at an inn,” he told her. “I have accommodation elsewhere.”
“At the ambassador’s home?” Karrell guessed. “Or perhaps at the palace?”
They reached the small group of people who were passing through the gate at the end of the pier. On either side of the gate was a watchful soldier. Each wore a brightly polished steel breastplate, embossed with the eye of Helm, over a padded leather coat that hung to his knees. Unlike the clerics in Mimph, these soldiers carried visible weapons—maces with knobbed heads. Their open-faced helms were decorated with purple plumes.
Each person passing through the gate was asked his or her business in Ormpetarr. Arvin and Karrell repeated the stories they’d told each other earlier: he saying he was a rope merchant’s agent; she claiming to be an artist.
When they were through the gate, Arvin plucked Karrell’s hand from his arm. “Well, goodnight,” he told her.
Karrell raised an eyebrow. “Surely you do not think to be rid of me so easily?”
“I’m not trying to get rid of you,” Arvin told her. “When my business here is done, I’ll send for you. I’ll introduce you to the ambassador then.”
Karrell snorted. “You have not even asked what inn I am staying at.”
“I was just about to.”
“No you were not.”
Arvin sighed in exasperation. “Goodnight,” he said firmly. He strode up the street. The shops on either side were closing for the night, their merchants busy shuttering windows and locking doors. The roads ran in straight lines and were hundreds of paces long—a far cry from the mazelike streets of Hlondeth—and were illuminated along their length by lanterns. It would be more difficult to hide here—or to lose someone who was following you—than he’d expected.
He glanced over his shoulder. Karrell was a few paces behind him, following like a shadow.
Arvin picked up his pace, sidestepping around the other people on the street.
Karrell did the same.
After several blocks, Arvin realized t
he futility of trying to leave her behind. He could hardly run through the streets. She’d only chase after him—and gods only knew what the local folk would think of that. At the middle of a wide square dominated by one of the silver gauntlet statues, he rounded on her. “Look,” he said, irritated. “You’ll just have to trust me, and wait until I send for you. Unless you back off, I’m going to warn the ambassador about you—tell him not to meet with you.”
Karrell’s eyes narrowed. “You think you can threaten me?” she asked. “That dagger cuts both ways. What if I were to tell that woman at Riverboat Landing about you?”
Arvin felt his face grow pale. With an effort, he steadied himself. “Riverboat Landing is two days downriver. By the time a message got there—”
Karrell smiled. “A spell can always be used to speed a message on its way.”
Arvin shivered. She might be bluffing, but he didn’t want to take the chance. “It seems we’ve reached a stalemate.”
Karrell started to whisper something in her own language. Before she could finish, Arvin slapped a hand onto the gauntlet. The cold metal chilled his bare fingers, making him shiver. “Don’t try to charm me,” he warned her. “It won’t work. Not here. This statue is magical. It will turn the charm back on you, instead.”
He had no idea, of course, if the statue’s magic would even protect him from a spell that did no actual injury. But presumably, neither did Karrell.
She stared at him. “You will not stand here all night.”
“I will if I have to,” Arvin said.
“So will I.”
They stared at each other for several moments. Then Arvin heard footsteps behind him. He turned—his hand still on the gauntlet—and saw one of the red-cloaked clerics approaching. The man hadn’t been there a moment ago; the gauntlet seemed to have summoned him.
“Is there a problem?” the cleric asked, his eyes on Karrell. “Did this woman threaten you?”
Arvin let his hand fall away from the gauntlet and raised it to his lips, blowing on it to ward off the metal’s chill. For a moment, he considered answering yes. Having Karrell detained was a tempting thought—it would keep her out of the way until he’d accomplished his mission. But subjecting her to the magical punishments the innkeeper in Mimph had described was something Arvin just couldn’t do. He shook his head.