“Hard-tack?
Really?” Karrick grumped.
“It’s a little taste of home,”
Thanos shrugged. He selected a blocky
lump of ship’s bread from the basin and inspected it closely. Years of experience with military fare
surged to the fore. He tapped the thing
gently against the surface of the table.
Karrick, grimacing, followed suit.
“What on earth are you doing?” Joraz
asked, staring at the pair as if they had each suddenly sprouted a second head.
Karrick held up the biscuit. There was a small hole in one side of
it. From that hole peeked a fat white
grub with two black spots for eyes.
The monk pursed his lips. He very carefully placed his own biscuit back
in the bowl.
Thanos sighed. “We’ve only just left a city-port, and he
feeds us months-old waybread. Our good
captain pays close heed to his purse-strings.”
“It’s my bow-string he ought to be
worrying about,” Breygon growled. “This
is revolting.” He tossed his own biscuit
after Joraz’s. “What’s next? Maggoty beef?”
“Hopefully not,” Thanos
replied. “But if I know ship’s chandlers
- and I do - I’d bet on pork salted to woodenness. And pease porridge.” He pushed his plate away. “I’ve eaten better during a siege.”
“Nothing quite like a nice, fat,
biscuit-fed rat, spit-roasted to perfection!” Karrick laughed.
Valaista, who had been staring at
the bread-bowl with utter revulsion, turned a remarkable shade of grey.
“He’s joking, child,” Thanos said
quickly, patting her hand.
“Hmm, yeah,” the shield-bearer
nodded. “Stewed’s better.”
The five companions were seated
around the small table that occupied most of the deck-space in the
wardroom. Eight low doors lined the room
– three on each side, leading to the tiny individual cabins occupied by the
passengers, and two forward, one leading to a grubby water closet, and the
other to the gangway that opened onto the main-deck. The windows overlooking the stern gallery had
been flung open, and the freshening sea breeze was doing its part to alleviate
the stench of bilge-water and cheese that permeated the chamber.
They were alone. Akhir – who apparently had no problem with
boats, but did not like crowded spaces – was curled up on the fo’csle, near the
foremast. Myaszæron had not left her
cabin since boarding the ship. And the
only other passenger – the short, talkative fellow that they had not yet
formally met – was still on deck, speaking with Captain Fall. They had the wardroom to themselves, and were
talking of inconsequential things, deep in thought about all that they had seen
and done, and wondering – or worrying – about what would happen next.
At that moment, the door swung open,
and Dame Amorda swept into the already crowded wardroom, followed closely by
her hand-maiden. The four men stood, the
humans ducking their heads to avoid cracking them on the deck-beams above.
In the few hours they’d been under
weigh, the elf-woman had already managed to change clothing. Instead of the elaborate gown she’d worn when
boarding the ship, she now sported an almost mannish costume, consisting of
shirt, doublet, hose and boots. On her
figure, though, topped off with expert cosmetics and her usual elaborate
coiffure, the result was anything but masculine.
“Hallelujah!” Karrick muttered.
Amorda dimpled at the
compliment. “I thought I’d play the
pirate tonight.” She swivelled her hips
gracefully, allowing the company to see that she had traded her pugio for a long, slender rapier,
basket-hilted and encrusted with stones that glimmered too brightly in the
lantern-light to be simple crystals. The
manoeuvre also gave everyone a better view of her shapely backside. Valaista snorted lightly, and Joraz covered a
smile with one hand.
“Good evening, lady,” Thanos said,
keeping his eyes on her face and bowing carefully in the restricted space. He glanced around at the limited furnishings,
then offered her his chair. “Please,
join us. I can’t vouch for the food, but
the company shouldn’t be too objectionable.”
“Thank you, Colonel.” She sat. Reticia took up station behind her, shrinking
into inconspicuousness against the forward bulkhead.
Thanos resumed his seat. “It’s ‘lieutenant-colonel’, actually, madam. Prochiliarch, in your tongue.”
“Really?” She raised an
eyebrow. “That’s not what I heard.”
Thanos frowned, not sure how to
respond.
Karrick leaned forward, proffering
the bread-bowl. “Biscuit?”
“Thank you, no,” the lady replied,
smiling to take the edge off her refusal.
Turning back to Thanos, she said, “I’ve made use of Ekhani shipping
before. No offence to your countrymen,
sir, but their expertise in architecture and ship-building seems to have been
won at the expense of the culinary arts.”
“No argument there,” Thanos
agreed. “But it’s a week or more to the
capital, isn’t it? That’s a long time to
fast.” He found a relatively clean cup
and filled it from a battered pewter pitcher.
“Wine’s drinkable, at least,” he added.
Amorda nodded her thanks. “It’s only two days to Newport . ‘Novaposticum’,
I mean,” she clarified when they looked at her blankly. “My apologies. When I speak the traveling tongue, I tend to
translate everything.
“In any case, Fall tells me that
he’s planned a two-day lay-over to exchange cargos. Newport is the
crossroads of the southern sea-lanes, and boasts many acceptable inns and
eateries. I plan to spend the lay-over
sleeping ashore.” She took a sip from
her glass and grimaced. “And gorging
like a new-hatched wyrmling, ‘gainst the trip up-river.”
“ ‘Gorging’?” Valaista said, her
voice rising dangerously.
“Figure of speech, primagenitrix,” Amorda said
soothingly. “I meant no offence.”
The dragon-girl said nothing.
“ ‘None taken’,” Thanos muttered
under his breath.
“None taken,” Valaista grated.
Amorda smiled and nodded. She turned back to Thanos. “That reminds me. I’ve a proposal for you, sir.”
Joraz shot a surreptitious glance at
Breygon. The half-elf was watching the
conversation with apparent disinterest…except that his ear-tips were pink, and
twitching slightly.
Thanos was about to say ‘I’m all
ears’, but decided at the last instant that it would be impolitic. “Unfold, madam,” he said instead.
“I understand that the young…ahh,
lady,” she began, nodding at Valaista, “is apprenticed to you.”
Thanos nodded. “I’m teaching her my craft at her parents’
request.”
“She couldn’t find a better teacher
for the ars arcana, I’m sure,” Amorda
said smoothly. “But seeing as how we’ve
a week or more to spend together, perhaps I could assist her in mastering some
of the gentler arts.”
Five pairs of eyebrows, including
Valaista’s, rose simultaneously.
“What?” the dragon-girl said, taken aback.
“Your hair looks like a stirge’s
nest, dear,” Amorda clucked, shaking her head.
“If you’re going to wear that shape, you need to learn how to do it
credit. And while you won’t need make-up
for a few decades…”
“Millennia,” Valaista growled.
“…millennia, then,” Amorda
corrected, still smiling, “knowledge gained is never lost. Someday you’ll be grateful for a little rouge
and kohl.”
She turned back to Thanos. “What do you say, Colonel? I can make a lady of her for you.”
“A generous offer,” the warmage
mused. “I can’t imagine how I’d repay
you.”
“You misunderstand,” the lady
laughed. “I’m repaying you!
All of you. You’re a breath of
fresh air. Joyous Light has seen more
excitement in the last seven days than in the last seven centuries!”
“Vampires, tree-monsters,” Joraz
murmured. “It’s been a little dangerous,
too.”
“Danger is life’s spice,” the
elf-woman said. There was a hard glint
in her eye as she spoke. Joraz wondered
whether any of his comrades had noticed that.
Thanos shot a glance at Karrick. “What do you think?”
The warrior shrugged.
“When a sword-master offers to show you a few tricks,” he replied, “you
don’t set conditions. You just say
‘thanks’.”
The warmage laughed.
“Thanks,” he said to Amorda. “We
accept.”
“What?” Valaista shrieked.
Thanos regarded her coolly. “I’ll presume that was an expression of
gratified surprise, apprentice,” he said carefully, “and not an objection to
your master’s command. Yes?”
The dragon-girl leaned back in her chair, crossing her
arms and looking rebellious.
The warmage sighed.
“Let me put it a different way,” he said. “In the last week, you’ve managed to
compromise your disguise half a dozen times.
Some of these have been excusable, but not all of them. You may look
like a young lady of the First House, child, but you don’t act like one.” He nodded at
Amorda. “She’s offering to show you
how. It could save us a lot of trouble.”
Valaista scowled.
“I’m not asking,” Thanos added sternly. “I’m telling you. Do we have an accord? Or do I send you back to Elder Delvin and
your parents?”
“You wouldn’t!” the dragon-girl snorted. “It hurts too much to lose a familiar. You’d never do it.”
“If you think I wouldn’t shed blood to rid myself of a
troublesome subordinate, then you haven’t been paying attention,” the warmage
said coldly. “Or if you prefer, I could
have Karrick put you over his knee.”
Karrick beamed at this. An instant later his look of glee changed to
one of alarm as he visualized trying to paddle four hundred-weight of
dagger-fanged, tail-whipping, fire-snorting dragon. “Leave me out of this, boss,” he said,
holding up his hands in mock surrender.
Amorda rolled her eyes. “Men!” she snapped. “Trust you lot to make a production out of
nothing.” Abandoning her chair, she
edged her way around the table until she stood behind Valaista. Gathering the girl’s unruly mass of
silver-grey locks, she twisted, knotted, bent and shoved like a veteran
rope-maker, working the errant strands into a coherent pattern, then finally
coiling the lot into an intricate, carefully-constructed edifice atop the
girl’s head.
She reached into her own coiffure,
selected a silver pin the length of her hand, eyed her handiwork carefully,
then wedged the pin to the coiled braids, locking the whole structure together.
“Shake your head,” she commanded.
Valaista did so, putting up a hand
to contain the expected collapse.
Nothing moved.
Karrick uttered a low whistle and
began clapping. Joraz and Thanos joined
in a moment later.
Valaista blushed, her cheeks
purpling. “What?” she muttered.
Amorda put her lips to the girl’s
ear. “You look like a lady ready for a
night on the town,” she said. “Or you
would, if you were wearing silk instead of steel, and carrying an aluta instead of a meat-cleaver and a
shield.”
The dragon-girl put a hand to her
new coiffure. “How…how do I get it
down?”
“Pull out the pin,” Amorda replied.
Valaista hesitated.
“Do it!”
The girl grasped the pin and pulled
it out. Instantly, the coiled mass of
curls tumbled down around her shoulders, smooth and untangled.
“Now look at the pin,” the lady
said.
Valaista did so. “It’s sharp!” she said, amazed.
Amorda nodded. Taking the hairpin from the girl, she put her
thumb over the jewelled end, then stabbed it through one of the tin plates on
the table. “Mithral-steel. Designed to penetrate mail,” she said,
wriggling the pin to free it from the wood and tin, and holding it up for
closer inspection. “This is what it is
to be a lady in the Fair Realm.” She
handed the pin to Valaista. “That was lesson number one.”
To Thanos, she said, “What say you, Colonel? Give me a week, and I’ll give you back a
different apprentice.”
The warmage turned to his adjutant, grinning. “Well?”
“I thought it was a good idea before,” Karrick
replied. “Now I think I’m in love.” He
was staring at Amorda, a beatific smile on his lips. She smiled back and dropped a quick curtsey.
Thanos turned back to the elf-woman. “Done.
She’s yours, lady. Until we dock
in Astrapratum, or otherwise part ways.”
“Excellent. Sunrise tomorrow, then, sweetling,” Amorda said, giving
Valaista an affectionate pat on the cheek.
Glancing up at Reticia, she added, “We’ll start by doing something about
these bugbear eyebrows.”
“I’ll sharpen the hatchet,” Reticia muttered.
“What’s wrong with my eyebrows?” Valaista asked,
nettled.
“You’re supposed to have two, dear. Now hush,” Amorda said, returning to her
seat. Retrieving her cup, she said, “Beck,
my dear fellow. You’ve been quiet.”
“When the subject is hairstyles,” the half-elf replied
stiffly, “I have little to contribute.
Eyebrows, likewise.”
The lady leaned towards Thanos. “Is he always so serious?” she
stage-whispered.
“It’s an admirable quality,” the warmage replied.
“In moderation,” Amorda qualified. “Let me guess: he’s obsessing over the
mysteries you’ve not yet solved. The
vine-creature at Rykki’s funeral. The lamiatae in Kalena’s quarters. The fate of Auranitoris. The whereabouts
of the Summer-Queen. Yes?”
The five companions stared at the elf-woman in stunned
silence. At last Thanos, in strangled
tones, said, “You’re very well-informed.”
“I keep my ear to the ground,” Amorda shrugged. “And I spoke to Kaltas earlier today. He’s
asked a few favours of me.”
“I wasn’t aware you were that close,” Breygon
murmured.
The lady arched a narrow brow. “The list of things I wouldn’t do for Kaltas
Aiyellohax is very, very short.” She
thought about that for a moment, then said, “Well…it’s a little longer, now,
seeing as how he’s married again.”
Karrick chortled.
“If you’ve any insights into any of those mysteries,
as you called them,” Thanos said gravely, “then we would be most grateful to
hear them.”
“Not about the attacks you’ve had to deal with,”
Amorda shrugged. “Blood and death are
your province, not mine. But I think the
disappearance of the Summer-Queen and the obliteration of Auranitoris might be linked.
Have you ever heard the tale of Prex
Æstiva?”
“ ‘The Curse of Summer’?” Thanos translated. He glanced at Breygon and Joraz.
“No,” Joraz replied.
The ranger simply shook his head.
“Well, then,” Amorda said brightly, “As my harp is
packed, I hope you don’t mind a capella.” Glancing over her shoulder at her
hand-maiden, she said, “Feel free to join in for the counterpoint.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Reticia sighed.
♦♦♦
Prex
Aestiva - The Curse of Summer
Fallen the Mighty, and fallen Usurper
Tîor, Xîardath are both gone to wind
Black eyes and white-hair, ill-born
Bîardath
The master of shadow and demon-wrought
magic
Supreme and unchallenged, triumphant,
chagrined
For all of his wisdom and all of his
power
Avail him naught ‘gainst the might of
the green
The heart of the forest bends not to his
majesty
Spurning his spellcraft and
darkness-spawned messengers
Thriving as ever, apart and unseen
In thrall, Astrapratum is shadowed and
terrible
Lifewater laps at the banks of despair
On the Filigree Throne a lascivious
spectacle
Shannyra the temptress, the fiend
incandescent
Whose touch drives her victims all good
to forswear
And beyond the black walls lies the
withering majesty
Nature resplendent surrenders to woe
As the stench of corruption and
darkness-wrought misery
Weighs on the woodlands of Fair Harad’s majesty
And feasts on the green like a carrion
crow
The woe of the woodlands calls unto
kesatuan
Summoning forth the protector of all
Regina
Æstiva, the fair Queen of Summer
The great Forest
Mother’s most radiant servant
The ruin of the forests to fight and
forestall
From the green came she forth clad in
fair verdant splendour
The light of the Lantern pierced
lowering clouds
And the flowers sprang up in her
life-giving footsteps
And blossomed in glory all ‘round and
about her
And mighty morbannons in majesty bowed
The green glowing heart of the uplifted
woodland
Caught Shannyra’s eye as she lounged on
her throne
And she raced to the window in
transports of fury
Enraged at this challenge to Dark
Ender’s mastery
From origin strange, and of powers
unknown
She called to her plaything, demanding
Bîardath
Attend her, assist her in facing this
foe
But her mate answered not; he was deep
in his mysteries
Forging his Wand; engineering his
travesties
Alone she descended to forests below
Amid the morbannons, enrobed in dark
splendour
She calls to the power she sensed in the
green
“Come forth, worthy sister; I feel your
presence
“Your lifebeat I taste; its delectable
luxury
“Calls to me - feeds my desires obscene”
So forth from the flesh of the tallest
morbannon
Regina
Æstiva in majesty stepped
And confronted the demoness standing
before her
Her beauty bound up with a soul born of
darkness
Her exquisite gorgeousness chained to
profanity
Heart-shorn and sorrowful, Summer Queen
wept
“Weep not, verdant sister,” the demoness
gloated
“My power and might make me first of
this land
“I sit on the throne wrought by Tîor the
Mighty
“And whisper my words to the ear of his
grandson
“That grandson I hold in the palm of my
hand
“My decrees all the elven-folk hasten to
answer
“They answer to me as their sovereign
queen
“So too must the forest my glory
acknowledge
“Bowing down to the power that Bardan
has granted me
“Kneeling to me as the new Summer Queen”
At these words did the Summer Queen
smile in sadness
And opened her heart to the daughter of
blight
Through the touch of kesatuan, knew she
her enemy
Fiend-fell, soulless, and reft of all
sympathy
Jealous of beauty, and hating the light
“The Dark Ender’s power avails you
nothing
“Shannyra, thou daughter of darkness and
pain
“The forests are ruled by the might of
the Unity
“The sun and the wind and the bark of
the thunder
“The life of the earth, and the
sweet-falling rain
“I beseech thee, leave off with thine
orders and blandishments
“To that thou defamest, abase thee and
yield
“The might that thou bringeth is naught
to kesatuan
“For all spirits bend to the strength of
the Unity
“Such is the power the nature-queens
wield”
“My spirit?” the demoness snarled in
stark hatred
“My spirit was forged by the Ender’s
black hand!
“I bow not to leaf-lords; your simpering
Unity
“Quails at the might of the Shadow’s
eternity
“Knell! For I am the lord of this land”
And with that, did she open a portal in
Evertime
Straight ‘twixt the woods and the fires
below
And through it flew fiends in numbers
uncountable
Blazing with lust and with fires
abominable
Fangs wet with venom, and fell eyes
aglow
“Dost thou now understand?” quoth
Shannyra in victory
A thousand stark minions arrayed at her
side
“My soldiers will wither the heart of
your Unity
“Burning the forests and blighting their
dignity
“Cowing the green to the Dark Ender’s
majesty
“Such is the might Bardan grants to his
bride”
Surrounded by shadows, encircled by
enmity
Summer-Queen wept, and she raised up her
hand
And the slavering horde born of fire and
darkness
Fell at once stiff and silent, their
shrieking abated
And rooted themselves to the earth of
the land
Great legs grew together; scaled hide
turned to tree-bark
Vast shoulders to branches, and talons
to leaves
Verdant beauty sprang up from the filth
of their passing
New life blossomed forth from the
horrors of darkness
And a welcoming wind shook the new
forest’s eaves
Reft of her minions, surrounded by
greenery
The fiend-whore trembled in deepest
dismay
And she quailed in fear at the Summer
Queen’s power
The might of the green and ubiquitous
Unity
Power and power on savage display
Regina
Æstiva, stern and implacable
Spoke to the cowering fiend: “Thy might
“Matters not to the Unity’s unrivalled
splendour
“The heart of the green is its own
sovereign master
“Acknowledging neither the dark nor the
light”
The Summer Queen strode to the
fiend-born maiden
Laid hand on her breast; on her black,
poisoned heart
And she said, “Thou mayest also be one
with the Unity
“One with the green and the forest’s
great majesty
“No longer standing alone and apart”
But the fiend of desire at that touch
shrieked in terror
And fled from the site of her army’s
demise
And never again did she challenge the
Unity
Nor dare the despite of the forest’s
great majesty
Until she and Bîardath, at Mærglyn’s
black treachery
Fell before daughter’s treason and met
their demise
And what of her army, that Summer-Queen
sundered
It stands still in glory near
Starmeadow’s wall
In name it is called ‘Hortum Elanadiria’
Flowers and vines - and in glorious
splendour
A thousand morbannon trees, mighty and
tall
♦♦♦
