Yet he had heard of the Jutlander queen who seemed to be searching for a lover. And since he had never bedded a queen before, much less one as rich as she, he thought to try his hand at this game as well. Oh certainly there were whispered rumors of lovers apast, as well as rumors of her strange penchants-unbelievable tales concerning dogs and horses and other beasts-yet he himself had had lovers aplenty, and his own inclinations were sometimes exceptional, and the tales cuckolded lovers spread concerning him were just as palpably false.
And so he came to Koniginstadt with but a simple plan: to make love to the queen. Little did he know what he bargained for.
It took less than a week for him to be invited to sing before the queen, and less than a candlemark afterward she took him to her bed.
Completely exhausted by her recurrent demands, he slept as would the dead, and when he awoke he had a silver collar 'round his neck and a silver chain linked to the bracelet she wore.
Then, one night in the afterglow of lovemaking, in a whispered lover's confidence, he discovered why she was called mad: she tenderly told him that her previous hundreds of paramours had been sacrificed one after another when they had ceased to satisfy. She had personally burned each one alive amid a glorious show of grief, Gudrun weeping and calling out her father's name over and again as each of her fancy men screamed in agony while flesh was seared from bones and life was burnt away.
Yet at last she believed she had found her eternal lover, for surely Delon could and would see to her every carnal need.
Delon was horrified, and he nearly failed her at that moment, but he knew of more than one way to pleasure a woman, to the queen's delight.
As to Delon, his every need, his every want was catered to. Except for giving him his liberty, he could not have asked for more-food, wine, clothing, luxury, everything he desired. Yet he would have given it all simply to be free.
And he knew not how long he could continue to pleasure her to her satisfaction, how long he would continue to live.
"… then you four came and saved me." Delon fell silent, his tale told, what there was of it.
Aiko growled, "Why didn't you simply kill her and escape?"
Delon shook his head. "I don't know. It seemed to me that I was powerless to do anything. I was simply her thrall."
Arin frowned, then she looked at the chain and neckband dangling from Delon's hands. She canted her head and attempted to ‹see›. To her eyes a faint aura seemed to flicker upon the silver. "Hmm. I think there is a charm on thy neckband and chain and bracelet, Delon." She looked at the bard. "A charm, too, on the amulet thou dost wear."
Delon touched the polished obsidian stone on its slender golden chain. "This one I'll keep. But the other…?"
"Destroy it," said Aiko.
Egil objected. "Nay. If it compels docility, we may ultimately have a use for it on our quest."
Arin looked from one to the other but said nought.
Southerly they fared, angling slightly eastward, aiming for the Straits of Kistan. For twelve days they plied the ocean, moving into warmer waters. At times the wind was with them; at other times they had to tack into the breeze; at times it failed altogether for short periods. And it rained again on two of the days-stiff gusts blowing sweeping brooms of falling water across the rolling surface of the sea. And during this time they saw no evidence of Jutlander ships, though they did pass a Gelender ketch heading northward toward home, and a Gothonian packet bearing westerly; neither ship came close enough to hail. Twelve days along this course they fared, and on the twelfth day a waning half moon fled before the sun across the sky. Night fell, and when mid of night came, in the confined space of the decking, Arin chanted and stepped out of the ancient Dylvana rite celebrating the autumnal equinox, Aiko matched her every move, Egil and Delon mirroring, and even Alos followed part of the way.
On the eve of the sixteenth day, they sighted the Straits of Kistan and maneuvered the Brise northeasterly, toward the shallow waters along the coast of Vancha. They hoped to hug the shoreline and escape the notice of the Rovers of Kistan, whether or not these pirates yet blocked the way. For if the Rovers still picketed the opening into the Avagon Sea, then a small sloop following the shoreline might slip past them unnoticed. But even if the Rovers' blockade was broken, still the picaroons plied the straits, boarding ships, pillaging, raping, murdering, then hieing back to the safe havens of the jungle island of Kistan.
And so, through the gap and into the sapphirine waters of the Avagon Sea they fared, sailing the shallows of Vancha. Five days passed, and they saw none of the crimson lateen sails of the swift dhows of the Kistanian Rovers.
On the thirtieth day of September, in the noontide, they made port in Castilla on the southern flank of Vancha. As they sailed in among the ships anchored in the sheltered bay, they passed an Arbalinian craft, her hull blackened by the scars of fire, one of her masts broken, a hole in her hull near the waterline. Aboard this vessel, men labored to repair the damage and refit the ship. Some of these men were swathed in bandages.
"What ho?" cried Delon through cupped hands.
"Rovers" came the terse reply.
Delon turned. "It's a wonder they survived."
"No," replied Egil. "The Rovers pillage and rape, and slay most of those who resist. Sometimes they take captives for ransom; sometimes they take the ships for ransom, too; sometimes they sink them out of spite; but on the whole they set badly damaged crafts free."
"Oh?"
"Aye, so that they can be refitted and raided again."
"Damn Rovers," spat Alos, glancing back at the damaged ship now aft.
Egil stared aft as well and nodded in agreement. "Damned Rovers," he echoed.
Arin fixed Egil with her hazel gaze. "Why dost thou curse them, chier? Is that not what Fjordlander raiders also do: pillage the property of others; mayhap rape the women of the conquered; slay most of those who resist; take captives for ransom; take property for ransom, too; at times destroy things out of spite; but on the whole leave enough behind so that in subsequent years, other raids can be just as successful?"
Egil looked at her, his one blue eye glittering. "Aye, love. I have done all those things you name, and perhaps others as well. But as I pledged on the heights of the fjord where I was born: I shall raid no more. Let it begin with me, I said, and so did I mean."
Arin reached out and took his hand in hers and pulled him down beside her and kissed him. Egil smiled and stroked her hair and said, "But of course, that doesn't mean I won't steal a peacock now and again."
Arin laughed. "Borrow, chier, borrow."