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Grimsoar could deal with his guilt and shame later. Right now it was most unlikely that the kingpriest would look benignly on tonight’s events: ten of the men sworn, tattooed, and trained to silence his opponents dead, against only two of their prey, and those the least important. The existence of the Servants of Silence was now known to a Knight of Solamnia and other witnesses, too many to eliminate before they talked. The knight and his companions warned of their mortal danger.

In a similar situation, Pirvan knew his curses would shatter glass and crack roof tiles.

“Very well,” he said. “We have to return to Jemar and go aboard one of his ships at once, if he will still hide us.”

“He gave oath,” Grimsoar snapped. “Do not insult him by doubting.”

“He did not give oath to be our friend after we have smitten the kingpriest with the open hand,” Haimya pointed out. “We offer no insult by giving him a chance to pick which battles he shall fight.”

“Well, I say we fight this thing through,” Kurulus said. He turned to his men. “We are all sworn to House Encuintras, and they still owe a debt to these people. I suggest we pay it by going to-where were you staying, Sir Pirvan?”

“Inn of the Four Courts.”

“Right, lads. If Sir Pirvan will give us some proof of our right, and a bit of silver to grease palms, we’ll be off to the inn and back with your baggage and servants before the live temple rats stop running.

Pirvan forced sensible words out of his mouth, as reluctant as they were to come. “Ah-we were thinking of leaving everything-”

“Leave everything,” Grimsoar said, “and we leave things the kingpriest’s minions might want to get their hands on. Not to mention that Jemar’s likely to be happier taking us aboard if he also doesn’t need to equip us from the skin out.”

“Are you sure anyone owes us enough to quarrel with the kingpriest-?” Haimya began.

“Oh, hush, Lady,” Kurulus said unceremoniously. “We’re sworn to House Encuintras, and that means more than their debts being ours. It also means that who attacks us attacks them, and satyrs will turn celibate before any tower or temple picks a quarrel with House Encuintras.”

Pirvan handed over one of the room keys and a double handful of silver towers from the sailor’s purse. Kurulus divided his men, four to stay with Pirvan and his companions and eight to go to the inn. Then he led the eight off up the street at a pace that would have done honor to minotaurs.

“Pleasant to have friends,” Haimya said. Her brittle tone said that she was trying to keep up with the night’s events, but rather wished they would slow their pace a trifle.

“More than pleasant when one has enemies like the kingpriest,” Pirvan said, drawing her close. “I would call it the difference between life and death.”

* * * * *

The clouds kept their promise of more rain. As Pirvan led his companions back to the harbor, the sky opened and unleashed a downpour that turned the gutters into streams and the streets into shallow rivers.

At least it also offered some protection. While the rain was at its height, a herd of centaurs could have trotted four abreast through any street in Istar without being noticed. By the time it began to slack off, they were in one of Windsword’s boats, beating toward the outer harbor with the lateen sail up, to take advantage of the dying storm’s wind.

They made good time at the price of nearly being seasick on the way. Haimya had to rush to a shadowed section of the railing, where darkness veiled the sights and the wind the sound. When she returned, she was pale but striding proudly.

“I do hope it doesn’t take as long as it did the last time for me to get my sea legs,” she said. Then she gripped Pirvan’s arm so hard that the knight winced, and when he saw where she was pointing with her free hand, he muttered unknightly language.

Tarothin was standing at the break of the forecastle, not quite with his arm around his companion but so close that she clearly would not have protested the gesture. The companion was a woman, nearly as tall as Haimya, with black hair flying in the breeze as well as gleaming in the lantern light.

She also wore black robes.

“Of course, that might be just her traveling clothes-” Pirvan heard himself saying.

“It seems the boat ride made me sick and you witless,” Haimya said, so sharply that her words reached Tarothin and his companion. Both turned as Haimya advanced on them with the look of being ready to heave the woman overboard and the wizard after her if he protested.

Perforce, the knight followed his lady and caught up with her as the two women stared at one another. Pirvan was reminded of two wolves deciding whether or not this was the time to fight for pack rank.

The silence was broken twice over, by Tarothin’s clearing his throat and by footsteps from behind, which turned out to belong to Jemar the Fair. The Black Robe turned her gaze on Pirvan, and he suddenly felt like a satyr faced with a woman ready to amuse herself with him.

Except that “amuse” would be the wrong word, if this woman had serious notions of bringing him to her by magic. Or by any other means, his reason added, noting the vast, dark eyes, and the gleaming, dark hair that framed everything.

I suppose once a year or so she meets a man too old or too young for her to try her wiles on. Otherwise she sees us all as prey, and that has given her bad habits.

Pirvan thanked all the gods of Krynn in a single comprehensive prayer of gratitude that Haimya was with him on this quest. Then he smiled.

“My lady. I am Sir Pirvan of Tiradot, and you may have heard of me as Pirvan the Wayward.” Then he thought, Which was not what I intended to say, and may give the lady ideas-not that she needs any help in such matters.

To Pirvan’s surprise, the woman’s smile was as grave as that of a white-robed cleric. “I am Rubina, Black Robe of Karthay. I found that what I serve and what your friend Tarothin serves are much the same. So, with the permission of Jemar the Fair, I am taking passage to Karthay aboard this ship, and as much farther as I can be useful.”

From Tarothin’s way of standing and looking at her, one of her uses was too plain to require comment. Pirvan and Haimya exchanged glances. This gave Jemar time to find his voice.

“I trust you will not presume to object to whom I may carry aboard my own ship?” It was not a question.

“Do I look like that big a fool?” Pirvan asked.

“No. A wise man as well as a knight, and the two are not always the same,” Rubina said.

Haimya giggled, which she did seldom, and which seemed to put Rubina out of countenance. The woman turned and, with regal grace, put an arm around Tarothin.

“Come, my friend. I think the wind is rising, and neither of us thrives on chills and coughs.”

When the deck was empty except for sailors carefully devoting themselves to their work, Haimya burst out laughing.

“What amuses you so, my lady?” Jemar asked.

“I was jealous at first. Then I saw that she had taken Tarothin for hers and was not seeking elsewhere. But she can hardly open her mouth to a man without saying something inviting. She must waste rather a lot of time better spent on other matters.”

Pirvan looked everywhere but at his wife, and was rewarded by her fingers slipping inside his tunic and tickling him in the short ribs. When he got his breath back, he turned to Jemar.

“Old friend, I trust your judgment, but is taking this Black Robe wise or necessary?”

“Tarothin thinks so, and I know from my own eyes and ears in Karthay that she has much influence in the towers there. Have your knights told you nothing about her?”

“Not even her name.”

“The knights will be well advised to talk more with the magic workers and less with one another in the coming years,” Jemar said.