Knights of the Sword by Roland Green

Author:Roland Green [Green, Roland]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-7869-6337-9
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2012-06-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Tarothin had nearly the complete run of Pride of the Mountains after his potion put the new recruits back on their feet. The captain was grateful, the Karthayan leaders were grateful, and the men themselves were grateful.

The only one not grateful was the man who’d offered Tarothin the place aboard Pride to begin with. But then, expecting gratitude from an agent of the kingpriest was like expecting charity from a moneylender.

As the fleet beat its way out of the Bay of Istar and westward toward the meeting with Aurhinius, Tarothin found himself doing other work besides healing. The first money he’d ever earned was for dealing with unruly drunkards in a local tavern, and from that he had progressed to learning the quarterstaff. Except for one year of his training as a wizard, when the work had been too physically demanding and his teachers too strict, he had kept up that skill ever since.

So he was able to serve as an extra instructor at drill for the new recruits, at least when the deck wasn’t at an impossible angle. Walking among the new recruits by day and among the sailors in the evening, he was able to listen a great deal without saying much or drinking anything at all. He thought that it would have been cheaper to buy honest vinegar, rather than pay the price charged for what the vintner had passed off as wine.

One thing he heard about was a good many nightmares similar to his vision of Zeboim and Habbakuk. Nobody was sure what they meant, but rumors of priests of Zeboim being aboard the fleet were rife enough to make some of the mates frown.

Tarothin tried to reassure anyone who seemed seriously alarmed that the priests of Zeboim were as devoted to the balance as anyone. Furthermore, the kingpriest would hardly be so lawless or foolish as to favor one kind of priest to the point of endangering the balance, even if the priests themselves might be less than honest.

The replies to that notion were eloquent, even blasphemous. They made it clear that even Karthayans who favored the rule of Istar did not thereby also favor the rule of the kingpriest.

Long days led to Tarothin sometimes taking a nap in the afternoon, though he no longer needed to prepare himself for long nights with Rubina. It was during one of those afternoon naps that his own nightmare came to him.

A circle of priests wearing the fanged-turtle masks of Zeboim’s devotees was conjuring storm clouds over a mountain. The clouds poured down rain, streams swelled rivers, rivers rose, and men downstream from the mountain were swept away without warning. He thought some of the men were soldiers, but he awoke too soon and with too muzzy a head to be sure.

He was not too muzzyheaded to know that he should keep this dream to himself.

Pirvan’s first decision was to leave his own steel sheathed. He then ordered all the armed men to do the same, including the two sentries who had led the whole procession.

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