The remark stung more than it should have. “You believe I would be attracted to a common watchman?” she asked. “You must be joking.”
“Not even a little,” Malik said. “I have seen how your eyes sparkle when he looks in your direction.”
Arietta felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “You’re misinterpreting,” she said. “I have the greatest respect for Kleef’s courage and swordsmanship. That doesn’t mean I’m interested in him romantically.”
“There’s no use denying it,” Malik insisted. “Everyone knows the Chosen can always tell a lie.”
Arietta paused, then said, “I don’t know that at all, Malik. And I am one of the Chosen.”
“You?” Malik shook his head. “I have seen nothing to suggest that.”
Arietta hid her injured pride with a smirk. “Haven’t you?” she asked. “Surely you noticed how bravely the Watch fought today?”
“Who could have missed it?” Malik replied. “Kleef and his men saved my life many times. What does that have to do with you?”
“I’m the one who inspired them,” Arietta said. “Leadership is but one aspect of my divine power.”
“Truly?” Malik looked doubtful. “And here I thought the oaf was their leader. Foolish me.”
“I’m sure Kleef does his best,” Arietta said. “But the Watch is filled with drunkards and cowards. It’s a wonder they arrived to fight at all.”
“Then the sooner I am rid of him, the better it will be for everyone,” Malik said. “You will be doing us all a great service by ordering Kleef to escort you and your … er, Grand Duchess Elira, to a safe place.”
The slip of the tongue was not lost on Arietta. “What makes you think I can give orders to a topsword of the Watch?” she asked. “Or that the grand duchess is my anything?”
“Did I not just tell you the Chosen can always tell a lie?”
“And didn’t I just tell you it’s not true?”
“So you did, but that doesn’t make you right,” Malik said. “How else would I know you aren’t the minstrel Elbertina, as you claim, but Lady Arietta Seasilver herself?”
“I see you’ve noticed how Carlton defers to me.” Arietta’s reply came instantly, for she was well trained in courtly discourse and knew better than to yield an advantage by hesitating. “But being observant is not a god-granted power.”
“Believe what you will,” Malik said. “What I know is more important than how I know it-and whether I mean to share it.”
“And why would I care if you did?”
A sly smile came to Malik’s face. “Because he would.” He glanced forward, to where Kleef and Lady Joelle were still sitting on the hatch cover. “We have both heard what he thinks of the nobility in Marsember.”
Arietta rolled her eyes. “Please,” she said. “I’ve already told you that I have no interest in him-at least not romantically.”
“So you have,” Malik said, grinning. “And I have told you twice that the Chosen can always tell a lie.”
Through his sleep, Kleef heard the familiar thump of a body hitting the floor. It was a common sound in any Watch barracks, where the residents often returned too drunk to find their own beds. But this barracks seemed to be rocking along its length, and Kleef was rolling side to side on hard planks of oiled oak.
A deck, of course.
Next came a long gasping gurgle, and a thick coppery smell that brought Kleef fully awake in an instant. He opened his eyes and saw Rathul lying in front of the Lonely Roamer’s helm, one hand clutched to his neck and a dark stain spreading across the planks beneath him. The ship’s wheel was spinning free, turning slowly starboard, and Rathul’s killer was nowhere to be seen.
Kleef found Watcher’s hilt exactly where he had expected, resting in the palm of his left hand. A blue ray shone from the agate on the crossbar, casting a pale radiance over most of the quarterdeck.
Not helpful.
Being careful to avoid moving his head, Kleef glanced toward the starboard and found a rippling band of shadow pointing across the moonlit sea, to where a brilliant full moon was just sinking below the horizon. Silhouetted in front of the moon was the tiny shape of a vessel with three lateen-rigged masts-many leagues distant but almost certainly the grand duke’s stolen galleass, the Wave Wyvern.
Kleef shifted his gaze forward and saw a trio of men lying on the main deck, swaddled beneath their capes-still asleep, by all appearances. His line of sight to the ketch’s bow was blocked by the Roamer’s helm, so it was impossible to say whether the forward lookout was alive or dead.
When he could not find any sign of Rathul’s killer, Kleef rolled once, then whipped his still-sheathed sword around in a circle. He hit nothing and rolled again, this time banging the hilt on the deck to awaken Joelle and Elbertina, who were sleeping in the cabin below. He stripped the scabbard off the blade and came up on a knee facing the Roamer’s stern, where a dusky figure with steel-colored eyes stood alone, a pace from the taffrail. In one hand he held a curved dagger, Rathul’s blood still dripping from the glassy blade.
“No one else needs to die.” The shade’s voice was soft and raspy, barely more than a whisper. “Perhaps we can trade: my grand duchess for your thieves?”
Instead of answering, Kleef took a moment to glance around and was surprised to see no other Shadovar trying to sneak up on him. He looked back to the first and stood.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I came alone, did I not?”
“And killed one of my men.”
“Two,” the shade corrected. “But only to encourage consideration. Either we trade, or you all die.”
Kleef thought for a moment, then spoke in a voice loud enough to be heard below decks. “I have another offer.” He glanced behind him again, still fearful of an attack and trying to figure out what the shade was really doing there. “Return the duchess and her household unharmed, and I’ll let you live.”
The shade smiled, showing a pair of white fangs. “Not a tempting offer, I am afraid,” he said. “But I think you know that.”
Kleef shrugged. “It’s the best I can do.”
“Not really,” the shade replied. “You could recover the Eye of Gruumsh for me.”
“And let Shar claim all of Toril?” Kleef shook his head. “Not interested.”
“You would find the Mistress of the Night grateful for your help,” the Shadovar said. “And what would you be sacrificing, really? A man who fights like you deserves more than a bunk in the Watch barracks.”
The remark struck more of a nerve with Kleef than he wanted to admit, even to himself. Only officers of the Watch were permitted to take families and live in their own homes, and the lord marshall had made it clear that Kleef would never advance beyond topsword. Had he deserved such a punishment, Kleef might have accepted the sentence without bitterness. But his only crime was being the son of Taggar Kenric, a constal descended from a long line of devoted Helm worshipers who considered it their holy duty to purge the corruption from the Marsember Watch. That Ilgrim Marduth had become the lord marshall of the Watch-just a tenday after Taggar’s death-was evidence enough that the Kenric quest was not going well.
When Kleef did not reply, the shade continued to press his case. “Shar cares nothing for ancient names or aristocratic blood. She values ability above all else, and a man like you … let us just say that when the Mistress of the Night reigns over Toril, nobles will bow to you.”
“That’s a lot to promise,” Kleef said. He didn’t believe the offer for a moment, of course … but there was a part of him that wanted to see Lord Marshall Marduth brought to the justice Kleef’s father had not lived to deliver. “And I’m from Marsember, remember? I’m not that gullible.”