Even if they’d been farther from the enemy, Pirvan had nothing to say that wouldn’t sound ludicrous or insult Haimya’s intelligence. If he could not lighten any of her other burdens, he could at least not add those.
They sat there under the tree until the campfire glowed more brightly, in a sinister twilight as clouds crept over the jungle. No rain fell, and Haimya finally spoke.
“Pirvan-”
“I will hear it if you must say it. You owe me nothing.”
She stroked his cheek. “On the contrary. I owe you much for your silence. You-you did not judge me.”
“Keeping my tongue out of other people’s troubles seems to be the one lawful skill I have,” Pirvan said with a shrug. “Also, we need not assume the worst about Gerik until we know the truth from his own mouth.”
“How are we to do that? The dragon-”
“Hipparan or the black?”
“The black dragon-he will strike at Hipparan the moment our friend appears. But without his aid, how are we to reach Gerik and take him with us, if he has gone over to evil?”
“Synsaga may not be wholly evil-”
“Synsaga is not Gerik’s new master, if the men are to be believed.” Haimya realized that she’d raised her voice, took a deep breath, and continued in a whisper.
“If he follows the mage, I cannot imagine him leaving the man to return with us. Even if he wished to, the mage would not allow it. He would summon the black dragon and make an end to all three of us.”
To Pirvan, this did not seem to suggest any particular course of action, other than continuing to do without Hipparan. Haimya did not seem likely to welcome a statement of the obvious, however.
After a long silence, Haimya shook her head and finger-combed her hair. That made it look more rather than less chaotic, but the gesture seemed to give her strength.
“I will not abandon Gerik over what pirates mutter around a campfire. I will trust his honor, to speak the truth and allow us to go free, insofar as that is in his power. If the mage proves treacherous, then we summon Hipparan.”
“That means penetrating the mage’s stronghold, I would say.”
“Of course. Remember, we have the second task, of learning what powers Synsaga’s mage may command.”
This left unspoken the matter of living to pass on what they learned to others. However, it seemed that one had to quest as one lived-one day at a time, giving tomorrow enough thought for prudence but not forgetting the present while contemplating the future.
They were helping each other to their feet when a harsh scream rent the twilight. It seemed to come from far above, and as Pirvan listened he could hear that the screamer was moving swiftly. They listened, clasped in each other’s arms, until the scream died and only the common sounds of the jungle twilight were audible.
Pirvan’s feet itched with the urge to put as much distance as possible between himself and what had screamed out from the sky. He admonished himself for his lack of courage and honor and forced himself into movement. Behind him, Haimya tested the draw of her sword, lifted her staff, and followed.
* * * * *
The minotaurs took so long in rallying for their second attack that some aboard Golden Cup began to hope the enemy had given up the struggle. Grimsoar ruthlessly trod on those hopes, knowing that defenders unmanned by dashed hopes would not hold against minotaurs or indeed less formidable foes.
“The only way they’ll not be back is if the two chiefs or captains or whatever they’re calling themselves have a quarrel. Then they’ll have to go off and settle it by a duel to the death, before one leader’s warriors will follow the others. But even then, they’ll be back. They might even be back before other minotaurs or Synsaga’s pirates find us.”
That was a long speech for Grimsoar, particularly when he expected to need all his breath for fighting before he was more than hours older. At least the breath he’d put into it wasn’t wasted; the “Maybe it’s over” mutterings fell, and the scrape of whetstones sharpening blades rose.
Kurulus was none too hopeful, either, about the minotaurs’ fleeing or Golden Cup’s chances of meeting the next assault. “We’re more than half out of arrows,” he whispered, “and a good half our blades need more of an edge than we can give them aboard ship. You’d think any sailor who ever ate ship’s biscuit would keep himself a blade tough enough for minotaur hide. But, no, they pay half a month’s wages to some chandler who wouldn’t know a good blade when it sliced off his nose!”
The mate of the top went off, muttering into his beard. A bellow from the aftercastle reminded Grimsoar of another problem-the healing potions were nearly gone, and Tarothin’s strength seemed likely to be the next thing to vanish. The ship’s own healer had no skills to equal Tarothin’s, but was doing his best on the minotaurs and the less gravely hurt humans. Grimsoar could only hope that the man’s best would be good enough, if not to save the minotaurs, then at least to meet their comrades’ standards of honor.
Off to port, the minotaur ship that had rammed Golden Cup was now well down by the bow. At its stern, a steady stream of minotaurs was crossing a gangway to the undamaged ship. One ship going down was likely to mean bad blood between the two leaders, with the leader of the sunken ship fighting to keep his position.
It was too much to hope for that the quarrel would break out in time to save Golden Cup. So the big man kept his sword handy when he stretched out on the least bloody piece of deck he could find.
Some time later, Grimsoar awoke with a headache from the sun, nausea from the uncleaned-barn smell of minotaur bodies, and a thirst fit to empty a small lake. It did empty a whole jug of water-they weren’t going to die of thirst today, whatever else might kill them-and after that he felt nearly recovered.
He felt still better when he saw that his sword was still fighting-fit, and best of all when Lady Eskaia came down amidships to thank him. She even kissed him, though she had to stand on tiptoe to do it, and he was greatly tempted to pick her up again and let her do the job properly-until he saw that his hands were caked halfway up his arms with dried blood.
Before he could wash them, the lookouts shouted what every man on deck could see with his own eyes, that the minotaurs were coming in again. Grimsoar pointed at the aftercastle, and to his surprise and relief a white-faced Lady Eskaia actually ran for shelter!
The only problem was, she ran toward the forecastle.
“If I’m no use on deck, I can still help the wounded,” she shouted. “Most of them are still forward, aren’t they?”
“Yes, but-”
“Thank you, Grimsoar. I am more grateful to you than ever!”
She vanished, leaving Grimsoar wondering if the simplest solution to his problems wouldn’t be flinging himself overboard straight away. Then he decided that even if he was going to do such a thing, he should do it after the minotaurs had laid alongside again.
After all, he was heavy enough, falling from a height, to crush even the largest minotaur.
* * * * *
Night had come to the jungle and sleep to Haimya when Pirvan heard the warbling above. It seemed just above the treetops, as if whoever made it wanted to stay low. It also seemed stationary, as if the warbler had found a rock outcropping or a treetop and perched there while calling.
Pirvan looked at Haimya, whose breath rasped in a way he did not like. For all the hardiness she’d learned as a soldier, she had been out of the field for a good long while, living on the bounty of House Encuintras. She was bearing up well, but lung fever could strike down anyone after such an ordeal.
Lung fever, and the nearest healer in Synsaga’s pay, and evil in his own right as well.
Pirvan had given some thought to wounds, but none to this. He was reproaching himself when branches crackled above and a lighter patch of darkness descended before him.