say?’
‘where do I sign?’ Emban’s expression was eager. ‘A carriage that large is
expensive, your Grace, Sparhawk warned him. ‘i’d pawn the Basilica itself
if it’d keep me out of that saddle.’
‘you see?’ Sparhawk said to Bevier as they walked away. ‘That wasn’t hard
at all, was it?’
‘How did you know he’d agree so quickly?’
‘Timing, Bevier, timing. Later
on, he might have objected to the price. You need to ask that sort of
question while the man you’re asking is still in pain.’
‘You’re a cruel fellow, Sparhawk,’ Bevier laughed. ‘All sorts of people
have said that to me from time to time,’ Sparhawk replied blandly.
‘My people will finish loading the supplies for your voyage today,
Sparhawk,’ Marquis Lycien said as they rode toward the riverside village
and its wharves on the edge of his estate. ‘You’ll be able to sail with the
morning tide.
‘You’re a true friend, my lord,’ Sparhawk told him. ‘You’re always
here when we need you.’
‘You’re exaggerating my benevolence, Sir Sparhawk,’ Lycien laughed. ‘i’m
making a very handsome profit by outfitting your vessels.’
‘I like to see friends get on in the world.’ Lycien looked back over his
shoulder at the Queen of Elenia, who rode a grey palfrey some distance to
the rear. ‘You’re the luckiest man in the world, Sparhawk,’ he observed.
‘Your wife is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’
‘i’ll tell her you said that, Marquis Lycien. I’m sure she’ll be pleased.’
Ehlana and Emban had deCided to accompany them as they rode down to the
Marquis’ enclave on the river, Ehlana to inspect the accommodations aboard
ship, and Emban to have a look at the carriage he had just purchased. The
flotilla moored to Lycien’s wharves consisted of a dozen large, well-fitted
vessels, ships which made the merchantmen moored nearby look scruffy by
comparison. Lycien led the way through the village which had grown up
around the wharves toward the river, which sparkled in the morning sun.
‘Master Cluff!’ the voice was not unlike a fog-horn. Sparhawk turned in his
saddle. ‘Well strike me down if it isn’t Captain Sorgi!’ he said with
genuine pleasure. He liked the blunt, silvery-haired sea captain with whom
he had spent so many hours. He swung down from Faran’s back and warmly
clasped his friend’s hand. ‘I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age, Master
Cluff,’ Sorgi said expansively. ‘Are you still running from those cousins?’
Sparhawk pulled a long face and sighed mournfully. It was just too good an
opportunity to pass up. ‘No,’ he replied in a ‘broken voice, ‘not any more,
I’m afraid. I made the mistake of staying in an ale-house in Apalia up in
northern Pelosia for one last tankard. The cousins caught up with me
there.’
‘Were you able to escape?’ Sorgi’s face mirrored his concern.
‘There were a dozen of them, Captain, and they were on me before I could
even move. They clapped me in irons and took me to the estate of the ugly
heiress I told you about.’ They didn’t force you to marry her, did they?’
Sorgi asked, sounding shocked. . ‘i’m afraid so, my friend,’ Sparhawk said
in a tragic voice. ‘That’s my wife on that grey horse there.’ He pointed at
the radiant Queen of Elenia. Captain Sorgi stared, his eyes growing wider
and his mouth gaping open. ‘Horrible, isn’t it?’ Sparhawk said with a
brokenhearted catch in his voice.
CHAPTER 8
Baroness Melidere was a pretty girl with hair the colour of honey and eyes
as blue as a summer sky. She did not have a brain in her head – at least
that was what she wanted people to believe. In actuality, the Baroness was
probably more clever than most of the people in Ehlana’s court, but she
had learned early in life that people with limited intelligence feel
threatened by pretty, clever young women, and she had perfected a vapid,
empty-headed smile, a look of blank incomprehension and a silly giggle.
She erected these defenses as the situation required and kept her own
counsel. Queen Ehlana saw through the subterfuge and even encouraged it.
Melidere was very observant and had excellent hearing. People tend not to
pay much attention to brainless girls, and they say things in their
presence they might not ordinarily say. Melidere always reported these
conversational lapses back to the queen, and so Ehlana found the Baroness
useful to have around. Melidere, however, drove Stragen absolutely wild.
He knew with complete certainty that she could not be as stupid as she
appeared, but he could never catch her off Guard. Alcan, the queen’s maid,
was quite another matter. Her mind was very ordinary, but her nature was
such that people automatically loved her. She was sweet, gentle and very
loving. She had brown hair and enormous, soft brown eyes. She was shy and
modest and seldom spoke. Kalten looked upon her as his natural prey, much
as the wolf looks upon deer with a proprietary sense of ownership. Kalten
was fond of maids. they did not usually threaten him, and he could
normally proceed with them without any particular fear of failure. The
ship in which they sailed from Madel that spring was well-appointed. It
belonged to the Church and it had been built to convey high-ranking
churchmen and their servants to various parts of Eosia. There is a certain
neat, cosy quality about ship cabins. They are uniformly constructed of
dark-stained wood, the oily stain being a necessary protection for wood
which is perpetually exposed to excessive humidity. The furniture is
stationary, resisting all efforts to rearrange it, since it is customarily
bolted to the floor to prevent its migration from one part of the cabin to
another in rough weather. Since the ceiling of a ship’s cabin is in
reality the underside of the deck overhead where the sailors are working,
the dark supporting beams are subStantial. In the particular vessel upon
which the Queen’ of Elenia and her entourage sailed, there was a large
cabin in the stern with a broad window running across the back of the
ship. It was a sort of floating audience chamber, and it was ideally
suited for gatherings. Because of the window at the back, the cabin was
light and airy, and, since the vessel was moved by her sails, the wind
always came from astern, and it efficiently carried the smell of the
bilges forward for the crew to enjoy in their cramped quarters in the
forecastle. On the second day out, Sparhawk and Ehlana dressed themselves
in plain, utilitarian garments and went up to what had come to be called
‘the throne-room’ from their private cabin just below. Alcan was preparing
Princess Danae’s breakfast over a cunning little utensil which was part
lamp and part stove. Alcan prepared most of Danae’s meals, since she
accepted the child’s dietary prejudices without question. There was a
polite knock, and then Kalten and Stragen entered. Kalten bore himself
strangely, half crouched, twisted off to one side and quite obviously in
pain. ‘What happened to you?’ Sparhawk asked him. ‘I tried to sleep in a
hammock,’ Kalten groaned. ‘Since we’re at sea, I thought it was the thing
to do. I think I’ve ruined myself, Sparhawk.’ Mirtai rose from her chair
near the door. ‘Stand still,’ she peremptorily ordered the blond man.
‘What are you doing?’ he demanded suspiciously. ‘Be quiet.’ She ran one
hand up his back, gently probing with her fingertips. ‘Lie down on the
floor,’ she commanded, ‘on your stomach.’
‘Not very likely.’
‘Do you want me to kick your feet out from under you?’
Grumbling, he painfully lowered himself to the deck.
‘is this going to hurt?’ he asked. ‘It won’t hurt me a bit,’ she assured
him, removing her sandals. ‘Try to relax.’ Then she started to walk on him.
There were crackling noises and loud pops. There were also gasps and cries
of pain as Kalten writhed under her feet. She finally paused, thoughtfully
probing at a stubborn spot between his shoulder blades with her toes. Then
she rose up on her toes and came down quite firmly. Kalten’s shriek was
strangled as his breath whooshed
out, and the noise that came from his back was very loud, much like the
sound which might come from a tree trunk being snapped in two. He lay face
down, gasping and groaning. ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ Mirtai told him
heartlessly. ‘Get up.’
‘I can’t. You’ve killed me.’ She picked him up by one arm and set him on
his feet. ‘Walk around,’ she commanded him. ‘Walk? I can’t even breathe.’
She drew one of her daggers. ‘All right. All right. Don’t get excited. I’m
walking.’
‘Swing your arms back and forth.’
‘Why?’
‘just do it, Kalten. You’ve got to loosen up those muscles.’ He walked back
and forth, swinging his arms and gingerly turning his head back and forth.
‘You know, I hate to admit it, but I do feel better – much better