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“You did, and one of them was me. My heart was in my mouth every moment you were ‘taking the air.’ Also, you were not as far along as you are now.”

“Very well. I shall be most docile and withdrawn, on one condition.”

Jemar sighed. Eskaia was not the daughter of a master bargainer for nothing, as he had learned to his cost-and as rivals and enemies had also learned, to a much greater cost. There were times when he thought that Eskaia would have made a much better adviser than wife, but those times had grown rare as the years passed.

“What is that?”

“You shall be honey-sweet to Delia. And if she smites any of the crew who look at her unlawfully, let it pass. Otherwise you shall have a sour midwife, which may not harm the babe but will surely put me out of temper.”

Jemar did not sigh again. Instead, he grinned, though somewhat ruefully. Living with Eskaia had taught him much, including when there was nothing to do but gracefully accept defeat.

* * * * *

The forest shrouded Pirvan in utter darkness outside, and there was more darkness within. This journey seemed to be taking him very far afield from what it had been intended to do, as well as from a knight’s honorable course.

His honor he would leave to Paladine and his fellow knights to judge, after he had done his best. But he could not leave to future judgments the very essence of his purpose in this land, which was to end the Minotaur’s threat before Istar did so by means that unleashed war. As far as he could see, he and his men had covered a great deal of country with their bootprints without taking more than a few steps toward that goal.

Now he heard the footsteps he had been waiting for, in the darkness behind him. In a moment he knew from the heavy tread that it was not Haimya, in her right senses and come to give him counsel.

It was instead Pedoon, the other he had been hoping to see. The half-ogre shortened his stride and fell in beside the knight.

“Have you orders concerning Waydol about which you can speak to me?” Pedoon asked.

Pirvan shrugged. “There are secret details, but they do not change what I have told you.”

After a moment’s silence, Pedoon nodded. “But-is there law or custom that says you cannot accept the bounty?”

Pirvan suspected this conversation was going in a direction where, by the strict interpretation of the Measure, he could not honorably continue it. However, he was the only Solamnic Knight within many days’ march to judge honor or dishonor. Also, his own honor, as well as that of the knights, rested heavily on bringing his men to safety.

“There’s little point in dividing something one has not earned. Even scholars know that.”

“I’m no scholar, Sir Knight. Just an old outlaw you once saw fit to spare. Am I now unworthy of being even heard?”

Pedoon sounded ready to weep, and the weariness in his voice seemed genuine. Pirvan punched the hairy shoulder lightly.

“Your pardon, again. I think my wits washed down the river with my biscuit bag.”

“No matter. But I think this. If we bring our united band into Waydol’s camp, we may be the largest there. I’ve heard there’s discontent with Waydol. Who better than us to rally it? For if Waydol is overthrown by men led by a Knight of Solamnia, we’ll all have earned the bounty and pardons to boot, and no one will say aught against us.”

Pirvan’s first thought was regret that he had spared Pedoon ten years ago. His second was that this might be unjust; what did he know of living as an outlaw in a world far harsher than the streets of Istar or its empire’s towns?

His third thought was that he must find a way of turning Pedoon aside from this course without a quarrel. That took a while to accomplish; the knight sensed Pedoon’s impatience before he was done.

“I think we price the calf before the cow is brought to bull,” Pirvan said slowly. “First, we have to bring our men safely to Waydol’s camp, past outlaw bands, Istarian patrols, flooded rivers, and, for all I know, earthquakes, forest fires, and plagues of stingflies!

“Second, the discontent must be real instead of rumored. Waydol has held his band together since I was a youth. That is not the feat of a common chief. Going against him might be mere folly.

“Third, even if there is discontent, we may still find it best to stand beside him. If he wishes to negotiate from strength, and I add myself to that strength, it may be the better for us all. Had you the choice between the bounty and losing your men to Istar’s justice or starvation, which would you choose?”

“My men, of course,” Pedoon said, and Pirvan could hear no untruth in the half-ogre’s voice. “We have been in the woods a long time, Sir Knight. Too long, I think. How to end it …”

Pirvan put a hand on Pedoon’s shoulder. “Two bands, like two heads, are better than one in that, I should think. Let us return to camp and set it afoot.”

Which does not mean I shall not speak to Haimya about keeping a sharp eye on Pedoon as we draw closer to Waydol’s camp. Treachery is a snake with many heads; cut off one, and others may still bite.

* * * * *

The messenger who brought the letter to Aurhinius arrived in camp on a lathered horse. He ran from his mount to the general’s tent, and all but flung himself through the door and onto his knees before Aurhinius.

Aurhinius thanked the messenger and ordered him and his horse given proper care. He made no great haste to open the letter, however.

It was his experience that the haste with which a message was sent depended less on its importance than on the rank of the commander to whom it was being sent. A message destined for one of Aurhinius’s rank always flew as if on the wind, even if it was only an invitation to some self-important archivist’s party celebrating his new theory of the origins of the kender.

However, after a half cup of wine, Aurhinius found curiosity prickling under his tunic. So he opened the letter-and let out a long, hissing breath.

“Bad news, my lord?” his secretary inquired.

“Not trivial news, certainly, but whether good or bad remains to be seen.” Aurhinius put the letter down and smoothed it out. “It seems that Jemar the Fair’s ships have been sighted off this coast. At least eight of them, perhaps more. The report is two days old. There have been no sightings since the storm blew up.”

“Jemar,” the secretary said, musingly. “Is he the one who married-?”

“Into House Encuintras? The very same. Which means he is not commonly called enemy to Istar. Yet he is also a sea barbarian, and such as he are seldom enemies to outlaws like Waydol. Unless there is a quarrel over dividing the loot,” Aurhinius added.

The secretary laughed dutifully. “Shall I file the letter, or do you wish me to take down a reply at once?”

“File it, but I will answer it as my first task in the morning,” Aurhinius said. He rose and blew out the candle on his camp table.

In spite of the comfort of his cot, a gift from his dead wife, Aurhinius could not rest easily at first. The storm that was hiding Jemar’s ships from observers ashore would also be blowing in the face of Istar’s fleet at sea. Whether Jemar meant good or ill to Istar, he was more likely to be able to accomplish it unopposed.

Unless the opposition came from other than natural means. The rumors running about Istarian lands had long since reached the camp; Aurhinius was too skeptical of both rumors and magic to believe the half of them.

But what would happen if the campaign was to be decided by a duel of magic on the high seas? Such duels on land left havoc in their wake; Aurhinius could not recall hearing of any such at sea.

Yet Zeboim was daughter to the Dark Queen herself, by Sargonnas, the Lord of Vengeance. Call them clerics, wizards, or mages, anyone wielding untrammeled spells in Zeboim’s name was to be feared, even if they said they were on your side.