“And now that Zeboim has returned, does she guard him still?”
“Day and night,” said Chemosh. “Testament to a mother’s love.”
“I have no love for traitors myself, my lord,” said Mina. “I will gladly undertake whatever task you set for me in regard to this one.”
“Good,” said Chemosh. “I want you to free him.”
“Free him, my lord?” Mina repeated, astonished.
“Help him escape Zeboim’s watch and bring him to me.”
“But why, my lord? If he is all that you describe him—”
“And more. He is shifty and cunning and sly and not to be trusted. And you must never question me, Mina. You may refuse to do this. The choice is yours, but you must not ask me why. My reasons are my own.”
Chemosh lifted his hand, stroked his fingers over Mina’s cheek. “Freeing Krell will not be an easy task. It is fraught with danger, for not only must you face the death knight, you must first deal with the vengeful goddess. If you refuse, I will understand.”
“I do not refuse my lord,” said Mina coolly. “I will do this for you. Where shall I bring him?”
“To my castle here in the Abyss. This is, for the time being, where I reside.”
“For the time being, my lord?” asked Mina.
Chemosh took hold of her hands, raised them to his lips. “Another question, Mina?”
“I am sorry, my lord.” Mina flushed. “That is a failing of mine, I fear.”
“We will work on improving it. As for your question, that is one I do not mind answering. I do not like these accommodations. I want to walk in the world, among the living. I have plans to relocate. Plans that include you, Mina.” He kissed her hands, soft, lingering kisses. “If you do not fail me.”
“I will not fail you, Lord,” she promised.
“Good,” he said briskly and dropped her hands. He turned away. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“My lord!” Mina called to him, as she began to lose sight of him in the darkness. “There is something I need—a blessed weapon or artifact or spell imbued with your holy powers.”
“Such a weapon would not avail you much against Zeboim,” Chemosh said. “She is a god, as am I, and is therefore immortal. I must warn you, Mina, that if Zeboim believes for one second you have come to rescue Krell, she will inflict upon you the same torment she inflicted on him. In which case, much as I will grieve your loss, I will be helpless to save you.”
“I understand, my lord,” said Mina steadily. “I was thinking more of the death knight, Krell.”
“You faced Soth and lived to tell of it,” Chemosh said with a shrug. “When Krell finds out that you are there to free him, he will be all eagerness to assist you.”
“The problem will be remaining alive long enough for me to convince him of that fact, my lord.”
“True,” said Chemosh thoughtfully. “The only amusement poor Krell finds in his prison is slaughtering those who happen to wash up on his rock-bound shore. Being none too bright, he is the sort to kill first and ask questions later. I could bestow upon you some amulet or charm, except …”
He let the sentence hang, studied her intently, as he carefully adjusted the lace at his wrist.
“Except that finding a way to defeat him is part of my trial,” said Mina. “I understand, my lord.”
“Anything else you want, you have only to wish for.”
He cast a glance at the bed from which she had risen, at the rumpled sheets, still warm from her body. “I look forward to your safe return,” he said and, with a graceful bow, he left her.
Mina sank down on the bed. She understood his look and felt his promise, as she felt the touch of his lips on hers. Her body ached and trembled with her longing for him, and she had to take a moment to calm herself, force herself to concentrate on the seemingly impossible task he had set for her.
“Or maybe, not so impossible,” said Mina. “Anything I want, I have only to wish for.”
She was ravenously hungry. She could not remember eating while she’d been in the prison house of her own making. She supposed she must have. She had some dim recollection of Galdar urging her to eat, but there was no memory of taste or smell or even what it was she had fed upon.
“I require food,” Mina stated, adding, by way of experiment, “I would like venison steak, lamb stew, a cottage pie, spiced wine . .”
As she spoke, the dishes appeared in front of her, materializing on a table, spread with a cloth. There was wine and ale for her to drink, and clear, pure, cold water. The food was wonderfully prepared—all she could have wished for. As she ate, she went over various plans in her mind, discarding some outright, taking up those she liked, mulling over them in her mind. She borrowed something from one, put it together with an idea from another, and at last came up with the whole. She went over it all and was satisfied.
A gesture banished the food and the table, the wine and the cloth. Mina stood a moment deep in thought to make certain she missed nothing.
“I want my armor,” she said at last. “The armor given to me by Takhisis. The armor forged of her glory on the night she pro-claimed her return to her world.”
Candlelight gleamed from the depths of shining black metal. The armor that she had worn throughout the War of Souls, the armor of a Dark Knight of Neraka, marked by her queen’s own hand, was laid out on the floor at her feet. Lifting up the breastplate, adorned with Takhisis’s symbol—the lightning-struck skull—Mina sat down on the edge of the bed and began to polish the metal, using the corner of the cambric bed sheet, until the armor shone with a high gloss.•
5
Mina’s wish took her to the lord city of Palanthas, where she paid a visit to the Great Library. She did not linger in the city once she had completed her business at the library, though she did note that there were large numbers of elves about, ragged, thin, and impoverished. She looked at them as they passed her in the street and they looked at her as if they knew her, but couldn’t remember where. Perhaps in a bad dream. She left Palanthas and wished herself next to a small fishing village on the northern shores of Abanasinia.
“You’re daft, Lady,” said the fisherman bluntly. He was standing on the dock watching as Mina loaded supplies onto the small boat. “If the waves don’t swamp you and pound the boat to bits, the wind will rip off your sail, blow you over, and drive you under. You’ll never make it. Ruin of a good boat.”
“I’ve paid you the cost of your boat twice over,” said Mina.
She stowed a leather skin filled with fresh water in the stern. Walking precariously as the craft rocked with the waves, she climbed back up the ladder to the dock. She was about to haul down the second water skin when the fisherman halted her.
“Here, Lady Knight,” he said, scowling as he held out the bag of steel coins. “Take back your money. I don’t want it. I won’t be a party to this folly of yours. I’d have your death on my conscience for the rest of my life.”
Mina picked up the waterskin and slung it over her shoulder. She walked past him to the boat, lowered the second skin down beside the first. Turning to go back for the food, she saw him still scowling, still holding out the money bag. He shook it at her, jingling the coins.
“Here! Take it!”
Mina put his hand gently aside. “You sold me a boat,” she said. “What I do with it is not your responsibility.”
“Aye, but she might not see it that way,” he said darkly, with an ominous nod of his head toward the blue-gray water.
“She? Who is this ‘she?’ ” asked Mina, climbing back down into the boat.
The fisherman cast a glance around, as if fearing they might be overheard, then leaning down, he said in a hissing, fearful whisper. “Zeboim!”
“The sea goddess.” Mina had wrapped strips of salted beef in oilskin to keep them dry, and these she packed away in a wooden crate along with a waterproof bag of biscuits. She did not take much food because—one way or another—her voyage would be a short one. She removed a map, also wrapped in oilskin, and stowed it carefully, the map being more precious than food. “Do not fear Zeboim’s wrath. I am on a holy quest. I intend to ask for her blessing.”