“To matters contained in this letter.” The junior captain handed a folded, sealed square of the best parchment to Pirvan. The knight looked at the seal. It was red, stamped with the open book of Gilean, chief god of Neutrality.
“He who sent this has dealt with all matters concerning your admission to the city as well,” the captain went on. “You will find him, I am told, at the Inn of the Four Courts.”
Pirvan’s eyebrows rose. He suspected who they were going to meet, but at one of the largest hostelries in all of Istar-and also one far from both the Tower of High Sorcery and the waterfront?
Holding up other travelers on lawful business, however, solved no riddles. Pirvan took the parchment and thrust it inside his tunic, then made the formal salute to both captains.
“You stand in favor with the knights for your honor, service, and courtesy.” At least until we find out what is going on here, he thought.
* * * * *
As Pirvan expected, it was Tarothin who met them in the sunny antechamber of a suite on the uppermost floor of the Inn of the Four Courts.
The courts were now, in fact, five, the owners having bought the whole street next door, closing it off and turning the houses into chambers that they rented to long-staying customers. Where the people in the houses had gone, Pirvan did not know, but this was not a cheap quarter of the city; he doubted that they were begging their bread in the streets.
“You are welcome, for all that you may think otherwise,” the wizard said. His beard showed more gray than the last time Pirvan had seen him, but he still stepped as lightly, and his staff looked as ready as ever to swing into use as a weapon against foes too petty to require a spell.
They did not need Tarothin’s pointing at his ear and then at the walls to be silent while they followed him to the innermost chamber of the four in the suite. It was also the smallest, and Pirvan noticed that the walls glittered slightly and the dinner of cold meat and pickles appeared to have been gnawed by rats. Wizard-sized rats, Pirvan suspected.
Tarothin shrugged at the question in Pirvan’s eyes. “I warded this chamber against all listening, magical or otherwise. The spell should last as long as you need to stay here, unless Jemar takes more persuading than I expect, to take you aboard his ships-”
The travelers stood gape-jawed. Pirvan hastily signaled the men-at-arms and servants to repair to an outer room. When the door was closed behind them, with Grimsoar standing before it, Pirvan fixed Tarothin with a look as friendly as a couched lance.
“We are staying here? Not in the guesthouse of the tower?”
“No. I mean, yes-this is where you stay, until Jemar-”
“Tarothin. This doubtlessly excellent inn is far from the harbor. It is far from the tower. It is close to several temples, including one that houses the barracks for half the kingpriests’ guards. We are here on business that the kingpriest and his minions may think dangerous to them. Does this suggest a logical course of action for you?”
Tarothin sighed. “Yes, and the same one I laid out for the hospitaler at the tower. He said that there was little danger to you, and more danger of giving offense to the priests by sheltering you. He has, however, sent silver to pay for all your wants here, up to five hundred towers-and you can buy most inns for not much more than-”
“What I want to know,” Grimsoar One-eye put in, “is why you didn’t come to me with some warning of all this, so that I could carry it to Pirvan.”
Tarothin’s face twisted in a the-gods-give-me-patience look. “Because before I knew any of what I have just told you, you had already departed. Nor would anyone tell me whither, so that I could send a messenger after you.”
“A messenger who might have sent a copy of your letter to the kingpriest,” Grimsoar snapped. “For the same reason, I did not wish anyone to know where I had gone.”
Tarothin sighed. “And I did not wish it known all over Istar that Tarothin of the Red Robes sought Grimsoar One-Eye, mate aboard a ship of Jemar the Fair. That also might have reached ears better left unsullied by the news.”
“By all means, let the priests keep their ears clean, to better listen to the voice of the gods,” Haimya said. Her tone would have eaten holes in the floor. “All of which, however, does precious little toward bringing us to Jemar the Fair.”
“It need not do so,” Tarothin said, “because he already knows of your coming. He and no one else among his men. He has promised to see you this very night, if it is your wish.”
“You may tell him that it is our wish indeed,” Pirvan said. Then he stepped forward and embraced Tarothin. “Pardon, old friend, but it seemed that you had made a bad matter worse.”
“Yes, and if you ever again give us such a fright, I will knock you down,” Haimya said.
“And I will dance in my climbing boots on you,” Pirvan added.
“And I will hang what is left from the maintop of Sea Leopard until the gales have stripped your flesh from your bones and your spirit from both,” Grimsoar concluded. “Meanwhile, I’m returning to Sea Leopard tond see about bringing a few trusted men here. I may even be able to speak to Jemar himself.”
“Is Eskaia sailing with him?” Haimya put in. “I have yet to hear her named, but it would be a pleasure to see her again.” Haimya had been Eskaia’s bodyguard and confidante when the lady was heiress to House Encuintras, and, though far apart most of the time, they found they had more in common after ten years of marriage and motherhood.
“No, and it’s pleasure that’s the cause,” Grimsoar said. “Or rather, the fruit of pleasure.”
Haimya laughed. “Is this their fourth or fifth?”
“Only four,” Grimsoar replied. “There is work to be done sometimes, after all.”
Haimya slipped an arm through her husband’s and briefly rested her chin on his shoulder. “You need not tell us about that.”
“No,” Pirvan said. “But if this wine is fit and safe-”
Tarothin muttered something rude.
“-then let us drink to Jemar and Eskaia. May their line be long and stout, and hold fast through all the storms of life.”
They drank, but Pirvan and Haimya were looking at one another as they put their cups to their lips, with the same sobering thought.
Jemar and Eskaia live far from Istar when they are ashore, and have ships that can take them to sea if storms blow from the temples. We and our line are bound by duty to stand in the path of the storm and try to turn it aside from the innocent.
Yet Pirvan also saw in Haimya’s eyes another thought that matched his own.
We would not love as we do, if either of us thought to do otherwise.
Chapter 7
They did not meet Jemar aboard his bannership Windsword, but in a chamber in the fortress-thick walls of a waterfront warehouse he owned through a discreet Istarian agent. Windsword was in the outer harbor, and Jemar would not have allowed a meeting that needed magical warding against unwanted listeners aboard the ship anyway.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, friend Tarothin,” the sea barbarian chief said. “The same for those who sailed with us to Crater Gulf. But there are plenty of new hands. They won’t be easy, trusting a wizard, and I wouldn’t be easy, trusting all of them to keep their mouths shut.
“Besides, I’ve grown a bit wary of spells taken to sea myself. There’s more magic wandering about the water than before, and if a ship bound by one spell hits a storm bound by another-well, I can think of two ships like that who sailed into such storms and never sailed out again.”
“I understand,” Tarothin said. “It’s the problem that some wizards have with their staff, when they want to use it for both magic and fighting. I remember once a Black Robe who tried to knock a sword out of someone’s hand with the end of his staff, and the sword had a spell bound into it that the staff released.”