“Maybe she and I can start a fashion.”
Yhelbruna turned in a rustle of robes, and for an instant, Aoth thought she’d overheard and taken offense at the levity. But, stern and formal once more, she said, “Thank you for your service, Captain, and for your generosity as well.”
Aoth grinned. “I’m not that generous. Watch.” He turned and tramped through the snow to where he could address Bez’s sellswords without shouting. His companions trailed along behind him.
“As even my rival Vandar concedes,” he told the Halruaans, “I earned the wild griffons. Because I’m only taking half of them, I’m collecting the rest of my pay in another form: the Storm of Vengeance.”
The sellswords stared back at him in consternation. Then the wizened, bitter-looking old wizard who was one of Bez’s surviving officers said, “You promised that if we helped fight the undead, we’d go free.”
“I didn’t promise to return the ship.”
“Do you know how to fly her?”
“No,” Aoth replied, “so I’ll make you an offer. You men can swear allegiance to the Brotherhood of the Griffon and crew the Storm for me as you did for Bez. My sergeant Orgurth will come aboard as my eyes and voice, at least until such time as you’ve earned my trust.”
Glowering, a plump man with a scraggy, goatish beard and a bronze sickle hanging at his side asked, “What if we say no?”
“Then I’ll burn the cursed ship and leave you stranded in a country where folk despise you.”
The elderly wizard gave a grim little chuckle. “In that case, Captain, I gladly pledge my fealty.”
Glowering, his comrades mumbled to the same effect.
Yhelbruna said, “In the Wychlaran’s name, Captain, I invite you and yours back to Immilmar to partake of our hospitality. Even these scoundrels, now that they’ve proclaimed you their leader.”
Aoth smiled. “Thank you, learned sister. I’m sure they’ll prefer it to sleeping out in the cold, and I won’t mind a couple days of warm beds and good food either.”
“Only ‘a couple days’? You’re welcome to bide until spring if you like.”
“Thank you, but I have to check on the rest of my men. Cera needs to prepare for a grand conclave of Amaunator’s clergy.” He glanced at Jhesrhi standing alone, her war boots and the butt of her staff planted in a puddle of melted snow. “And we all have a problem to solve.”