“-as fine as yourself,” Eskaia finished for him. This had the desired effect of rendering Jemar speechless, and even making him flush until he was almost as dark of face as was normal among sea barbarians.
Under Eskaia’s and Kurulus’s ministrations, Tarothin regained his senses before Jemar regained his speech. The wizard sat up, removed a piece of carrot from his beard, and contemplated the others with a not easily describable look on his round face. It seemed to mingle surprise, amusement, and dismay in roughly equal proportions.
When he spoke, his voice conveyed the same mixture. “My lady, this is not well done. Whatever will your father say?”
“My father is not here,” Eskaia replied. “I am. So is Jemar. So are the ships and men who must sail south to rescue our comrades, or era-or abandon them, without need.”
“My lady, they may well prevail on their own,” Jemar said. “I am not as wise about dragons as our friendly wizard here, but Pirvan and Haimya seemed folk of uncommon shrewdness and strength.”
Eskaia’s look made Jemar actually refuse to meet her eyes. “Good chief,” she said, with ice crackling in her voice. “I hope this continuing to argue does not mean that you refuse my offer.”
A long silence ensued, in which Tarothin seemed to be staring at the ceiling and moving his lips silently. Kurulus made ready to knock him down if he reached for his staff and began a spell, but no magic flowed around them.
“I have prayed,” the wizard said, finally. “I have prayed more like a cleric than a wizard. I cannot find it in me to bless this-this offering of the lady’s self, for such a small-”
“It is not a small purpose,” Jemar said, and his voice was now as chill as Eskaia’s. He held Tarothin’s eyes for a moment, until the wizard looked away. “It is a perilous one, but not small, and highly honorable.
“My lady. I accept your bargain.”
“But-blessing-the law-” Tarothin stammered.
“The law is satisfied by my being of age,” Eskaia said. “I have been of age to be married with my father’s consent since I was fifteen, and without it since last year.
“As for a blessing-I cannot imagine that among five sea barbarian ships, there are no clerics whatever. Who is your priest of Habbakuk?”
“She’s actually a priestess,” Jemar said. “I am sure she will not make any great objections, once we satisfy her that this is a free agreement between two lawful persons-”
“No, and by the time we rescue our friends, Tarothin may have come around to a wiser point of view,” Eskaia said.
Everyone stared again. She laughed. “Jemar-we wed after our friends are rescued, or I know their fate. I will not demand that we succeed, only that we try.”
Jemar once again seemed deprived of speech.
“Jemar, I would not tempt you to steal my-to steal the bait without springing the trap. And as for fearing treachery-whatever you are, it is not the kind of fool who would do something that surely would bring the wrath of House Encuintras, all its friends, and perhaps even Synsaga himself on you. Your own people would have long since dropped you overboard with shackles at your feet, were you such a fool. So I trust you.”
Jemar’s first sound was laughter. When he regained his breath, he shook his head.
“My lady. Is there perhaps sea barbarian blood in House Encuintras? You know us as if you had been reared among us from a babe.”
“It is only three generations since we sailed our own ships,” Eskaia said. “Even today, some of our highest officers began in the forecastle. So the sea and those who voyage upon it are not a bound and sealed scroll to us. Far from it.”
They summoned Grimsoar One-Eye to put Tarothin to bed, relying alike on his strength and his discretion. Jemar gave Eskaia the betrothal gift of a single black pearl from the band that circled his left forearm.
Then they settled down to finish the wine and the plans for the voyage south.
* * * * *
From where Hipparan had landed them, Pirvan and Haimya had an easy route to the ruined castle. Two visible moons rode the night, and the patchwork of clouds let much of their light through. Also, the tower rose high, and last of all, a blue glow from its base made a mark that a one-eyed man could have followed.
Pirvan thought he felt a trickle of breeze colder than any jungle ought to spawn, blowing from the tower. Of course, they were climbing up out of the rank, steaming lowlands as they approached the castle. Perhaps he only felt a mountain breeze, after so long in the jungle that he had forgotten what coolness felt like.
And perhaps not.
It also eased their way that the girdle of outposts around the castle seemed slighter than they had expected. One camp appeared all but abandoned, and there were gaps in the sentry line wide enough to allow a troop of mounted knights to ride through.
The guards’ sloth was no small relief to Pirvan. He had it in him to cast the Spell of Seeing the Expected perhaps once more, and that not for long. If they could reach the tower without exhausting that resource, he would be grateful.
“We could have used a little more such sloth this morning,” Haimya whispered.
“Let’s not rejoice until we know the reason for the sloth,” Pirvan reminded her.
“Fear of the mage?”
Pirvan shrugged.
“Then I will not rejoice. I will not halt either.”
The thief touched her cheek. It seemed hotter than usual, but not hot enough to account for such a witling’s remark. He hoped it was only some sickness that responded to healing, not some living creature of the jungle devouring her from within.
Hoping was as futile as halting. They moved on. Presently they were at the base of the castle’s wall.
“There are ruined portions farther around to the right,” Pirvan said, “but they are most likely to be guarded. Also, from unruined battlements, we can see the whole inside at a glance.”
“Why not just ask if I’m fit to climb?” Haimya snapped.
“I assumed you were,” Pirvan said. “If you are not-”
Haimya shook her head. “I think so.”
“If you fall because you’ve overtaxed your strength, I’ll spit on your grave,” Pirvan said, with a light punch to her shoulder. “Ho, for a little healthy night work.”
Haimya sounded other than healthy by the time they were on the battlements, but her breathing had eased and her pallor likewise before Pirvan finished hauling up their gear. Then they turned to study the castle.
The blue glow no longer flickered from the base of the tower, but a campfire showed one band of sentries at a gate on the far side of the courtyard. Much of the wall to their right was ruined, and at the far end was a dim, hulking shape.
“The dragon?” Haimya whispered.
Pirvan’s night-sight groped through the darkness, and he shook his head. “Too big. More likely his northern lair. Remember, Hipparan said he had two.”
The next moment, a shift of the night breeze made the identification certain. “Either a dragon’s lair or a slaughterhouse,” Pirvan added, after he was done gagging. “But no dragon, or I think Hipparan would have mentioned him.”
“Unless he was as frightened as I am now, and forgot,” Haimya said.
“I hope you and Gerik have a swarm of children, and you teach true courage to them all,” Pirvan said.
She seemed bemused.
“True courage,” he added, “is going on when you know all the dangers. The other is ignorance or folly. Teach them or breed it into them. The world needs it.”
He had meant to ease her mind with an assurance that he would not stand between her and Gerik if they wished to remain betrothed. Now he wondered if he had chosen the right time, place, or words. Perhaps this eerie place was unsettling his wits, or at least tangling his tongue.
“I will fret myself about children when I know who their father will be,” Haimya replied, and now it was Pirvan’s turn to stand mute. Before he regained speech, Haimya had pulled up the rope and lowered herself over the inner side of the wall.