Fortunately Linsha did not have to face the test of his eyes at that moment, for the four riders were too busy guiding their horses across the busy parade ground and camp toward the East Gate.
“I apologize for my abruptness earlier,” Durne said. “We are constantly bombarded by requests for service in His Excellency’s name, and not all of the petitioners are motivated by altruism.”
His tone was light and casual, but Linsha sensed the steel behind the velvet. She snorted indelicately, like a crude mercenary with few social skills. She had toned down Lynn’s wild and crude character the past few months to make her persona more acceptable in the guards, but it didn’t hurt to maintain some of the appearance. “Petitioners like me, you mean. Cheap self-seekers looking for an extra coin, or an infiltrator from the Knights of Takhisis who’d sell his own parents for the job.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her and began to tick off more names on his gloved hand. “Not to mention those pesky Legionnaires, the infuriating Solamnics, the minions of the black dragon, Sable, the ogres of Blöde…”
She suddenly laughed and finished the list for him. “As well as spies, pirates, con men, thieves, assassins, and snitches who would love to replace or depose or kill Lord Bight.”
“Working for Lord Bight isn’t easy. He demands courage, skill, and complete loyalty.”
“I see that. But keep me in mind anyway.”
“Why?” he demanded to know.
Linsha hesitated, searching for just the right words that would not sound too arrogant or false. She waved her hand at the city around them. “I like what he has done here. I want to see it continue.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. We will keep your offer in mind, Lynn of Gateway.”
And that, says he, is that, Linsha thought to herself. Oh, well. It was worth a try. She wiped her sweating forehead again and realized for the first time that morning how tired she was. It had been a long night on patrol. She sighed and wished she didn’t have to sit so straight on horseback. She would have liked to relax, but Commander Durne rode beside her, arrow-straight from the waist up. He was a natural rider, one of those born to sit in a saddle, and she would be fried alive before she would allow this officer to prove himself her superior on horseback.
They rode quietly for a while through the gate and into the city proper. It was midday and already growing quite hot.
“Were you born in Gateway? Or did you just take the name?” Durne asked suddenly.
Linsha’s heart skipped a beat. It was a casual question, but coming from Commander Durne, it could hold a hundred pitfalls. Assuming a casual air, she yawned and waved nonchalantly toward the north. “I was born there. Didn’t stay long, though. I felt the itch to travel. Caergoth. All around the Newsea. Khuri-Khan. Spent some time in Neraka.”
“Neraka,” he repeated. “I assumed you didn’t like the Dark Knights.”
She shrugged. “I don’t. Too many rules. Too intent on their dark goddess. If you ask me, a goddess who abandons her minions in the middle of a deadly war is not worth the spit it takes to polish her altar. No, I didn’t stay in Neraka for long.”
The commander’s mild tone continued. “How long have you been here?”
“I came over with a caravan from Khur about eight years ago.” Which was the exact truth. Linsha had learned early that the best lies were those intertwined with as much truth as possible. She cast a sideways glance at Durne’s profile and asked, “So where are you from?” She already knew from the meager Solamnic profiles on him, but she had also learned that it was safer to listen than continue to lie.
His cool blue eyes continued to scan the road ahead as he answered cryptically, “Port Balifor, before the war.”
Linsha saw a spasm of anger flit across his face. It seemed the iron commander harbored some feelings within his controlled exterior. Not that there wasn’t good reason. Durne had seen more than thirty-five years, so he was old enough to remember Port Balifor, before the Chaos War and the coming of the great dragons, when it was a peaceful, thriving port on the Bay of Balifor. The arrival of the red dragon, Malystryx, had changed all that, and now the remains of Port Balifor scraped out a poor existence under the merciless claws of the dragon overlord. She considered asking him more about it, if he had lost family or fortune in Port Balifor, but the chill of his eyes and the bitter set of his face persuaded her not to. She didn’t want to alienate the commander at this particular moment.
She was about to change the subject when the warehouses and buildings around them opened out into the teeming wharves and the shimmering smooth waters of Sanction Harbor. Activity on the waterfront had increased with the coming of midmorning, and in spite of the collision at the southern pier, several new ships had arrived and tied up at the smaller northern piers.
One, Linsha recognized, was a galley carrying passengers from various ports in the Newsea. She knew some of the people would most likely be refugees fleeing the depredations of the great dragons and seeking new lives in the comparative freedom of Lord Bight’s domain. Refugees had been flowing into Sanction for years, forming one of the most diverse populations on Krynn. The other two ships flew the flag of Solamnia and probably carried foodstuffs to exchange for Sanction’s widely acclaimed cheeses, volcanic products, and wool.
At the southern pier, the crowd of gawkers beside the runaway and her hapless victim had grown, impeding the work of the dock laborers and blocking Lord Bight’s progress. Fortunately, Sergeant Amwold had anticipated this difficulty and called for reinforcements. A signaler stood at the head of the pier, and at the first sight of Lord Bight and his party, he lifted a small horn to his lips and blew a single clear note. Heads turned and people quickly moved aside to make way for the lord governor. A second patrol moved in and formed up at the head of the governor’s party to escort him to the ship. The riders dismounted, leaving their horses with the signaler.
Linsha fell in behind Commander Durne and followed the men down the pier, past the curious onlookers. She noted the respectful demeanor of the mixed crowd and the way people watched Lord Bight avidly. Even minotaurs and kender tended to pay attention when Lord Bight was near.
As soon as the lord governor reached the ships, the captain of the Whydah, the first mate, and the harbormaster hurried to meet him. Agitated and fearful, the captain had his say first, punctuated by broad gestures and an overly loud voice. Lord Bight listened patiently. When the captain was finished, the harbormaster led the governor aboard the Whydah and described what he had seen so far on the runaway.
After a brief nod to Sergeant Amwold, Commander Durne and Captain Dewald hurried after Lord Bight. Linsha fell in at their heels. Nobody had bidden her to attend, but they hadn’t dismissed her yet either, and she was eager to stay in Lord Bight’s sight as long as possible.
In a group, the governor, the harbormaster, the first mate, and the three guards climbed over the splintered wreckage of the ship’s railing and rigging and onto the deck of the merchantman. The Whydah’s captain stayed behind.
Linsha gazed around at the empty deck, her eyes wide. Already the heat of the day had increased the stench rising from the dead in the holds to a nearly unbearable level. She clamped a hand over her nose and tried to breathe only through her mouth. To still the stirrings of nausea in her stomach, she walked to the broken foremast and leaned against the fallen timber.
“I’ve sent for a healer to examine these bodies,” she heard the harbormaster say as he climbed up to the upper deck. “This sickness that has afflicted them is unlike any I have seen.” She turned and saw him lift the shroud from Captain Southack’s body to show the men the ravages of the disease.
Lord Bight’s expression was unreadable, yet his voice became oddly gentle. “They died hard. It is a fate I do not wish on any man.”