Margaret Weis - Love and War

"What about him?" asked Radiz.

"Kill him," said Artavash with a shrug.

"No!" cried Sturm. He ducked under a hedge of javelins and dashed to the sergeant. "Please do not harm him!"

"And why not?" demanded Artavash. "He is a man-at arms, and dangerous. I cannot take him aboard the Sea Raven as a guest."

"He is my f-friend," Sturm pleaded.

Artavash went to where the five Kernaffi held the far bigger Soren immobilized. The sergeant was the only man present tall enough to look her in the eye.

"Give me your oath," she said, "that you will be peaceful, and I will let you live."

Sturm looked up at him and his eyes said, "Please, Soren!"

"Don't do it, man!" Captain Graff shouted. "Don't trust that bloody sea witch!"

Artavash whirled and flung her knife at the old captain. It buried to the hilt in his chest. The soldier holding him let Graff sag to the deck. Sturm stared in shock at the growing stain of red soaking through the captain's coat.

Artavash stood over the dying man. "Do you think I am to be trifled with, old fool? Mine is the power of life and death here." She flung her unmailed hand at Soren. "Will you give your oath?"

"I cannot," said Soren. "While I live, I cannot willingly allow my lady or my lord to enter anyone's captivity."

Artavash smiled again. The effect on Sturm was near magic, for, in spite of her violent acts, he was charmed.

"Good, good," she said. "That's what I wanted to hear. Sir Radiz! Strip this man of his arms and armor. Set him to an oar on the SEA RAVEN, and mind you, double-chain him. It would not do to have him loose among the other slaves."

The Kernaffi hauled the belligerent sergeant to the bridge. Lady Ilys and Carin waited until the men surged by. Artavash went to Graff and rolled his limp form over with the toe of her boot. She freed her blade and wiped it clean on the captain's sleeve.

Lady Ilys and her maid started for the bridge. Sturm moved in behind his mother. Just as he was about to step up, a hand grabbed his ankle. He almost cried out in surprise, for it was the captain who held him.

"Boy," Graff whispered.

Sturm knelt. He swallowed hard and said, "Yes, sir?"

"Take…" Graff's leathery fingers were twined in the wind cord. "Take…" he gasped again. "Ver' strong…" Dry rasping filled the old man's throat, and the captain breathed his last.

Sturm stared at the dead man until a voice broke his trance.

"What have you got there?" said Radiz. Sturm showed him, his heart pounding for fear he might be punished. Radiz looked uncomprehendingly at the strip of rawhide. He rolled it between his fingers and gave it back to Sturm. "Come along," he said.

From the forecastle of the Sea Raven, Skelter seemed small and forlorn. The impact of the ram had been a glancing one, and the hull was crushed rather than torn open. The surviving Thelite sailors lined the rail as the galley backed away.

"What will happen to them?" asked Sturm.

"With luck, they can bring her in," said Radiz. "If they sink, it will be the sea god's fault, not ours."

Even at his young age, Sturm found that hard to believe.

The stern of the Sea Raven was covered by a luxurious pavilion. Walls of rosewood and cedar rose from the oak deck. Overhead was a cloth of gold canopy, and tinkling brass chimes hung from ivory ridge posts inside.

Artavash swept in and bade Lady Ilys and Sturm to sit. She unbuckled her armor and tossed the segments in an ebony chest whose hasp and hinges were of silver. A steward appeared, dressed in red velvet vest and billowing silk pantaloons.

"Wine, Dubai," Artavash said. She scratched her sides where the armor chafed, just like Sturm's father always had, and settled onto a heap of plush pillows.

Sturm strained his neck taking in the opulence of the pavilion. When Dubai returned with a silver ewer and three goblets, he had to ask, "Is this your ship, Lady?"

"Mine? No. It belongs to the Lord of the Sea. I'm not even its captain; Sir Radiz sees to our progress over the water."

The steward poured three measures of dark red wine. Artavash sipped, nodded, and allowed Dubai to offer the other two goblets to Lady Ilys and Sturm. Sturm's mother refused for the both of them.

"You offend my hospitality," Artavash said darkly.

"I would prefer to be recognized as a prisoner, rather than a guest," Lady Ilys said. Artavash sent the wine to Mistress Carin. She too declined to drink.

"Pah! Why are you northerners so haughty? Could your noble Order of knights prevent the Cataclysm? Has your devotion to Paladine brought you glory? You mystify me. Wealth and power belong to the strong. If you cling to your outdated ideals, you will all vanish like the ancient deities you serve." Artavash took a long drink, then waved for Dubai to refill her cup.

"What is to become of us?" asked Lady Ilys.

"That is for the Lord of the Sea to decide."

"We cannot be ransomed. Lord Brightblade will not pay one copper to you."

"Your knight's money means nothing to my master. Gold runs from his fingertips, and his tears are purest silver."

"If not for vulgar money, why did you take us?" Lady Ilys demanded.

Artavash leaned back, reaching out to idly stroke Sturm's hair. "My master will have a use for you, never fear."

Another measure of wine disappeared down Artavash's throat. Dubai filled her goblet automatically.

"If you do not drink with me, I shall finish the wine alone," she said.

"Drunkenness is a common fault of barbarians," said Lady Ilys.

Artavash glared and flung the silver cup at Sturm's mother. Lady Ilys closed her eyes but did not cower. The goblet hit the rosewood panel behind them, and wine splattered over them like scarlet rain. A single drop ran to the corner of Sturm's mouth. It tasted sweet and hot.

"I will not be insulted on my own ship!" Artavash declared. "Guard! Guard!" Two armed Kernaffi entered the front flap. "Escort this LADY and her servant to a cabin below. Put a watch on the door." She stood, to get the benefit of her commanding height. "Now, begone!"

Lady Ilys rose and put out a hand to her son. Sturm rose also, defiant.

"He will remain," said Artavash. Sturm could feel the tension between the two strong-willed women. This time his mother did not press her point, and instead, drew him close and kissed his forehead.

"Be wise," she said in a confidential voice. "And remember who and what you are."

Artavash sent the steward out so she and Sturm would be alone. "You are a brave boy," she said. "You might have been killed on the roundship, yet you defended your mother and friends courageously."

"Tomorrow is too late to be brave, my father says," Sturm replied.

"Hmm, just so. Your father is a wise man. Is he a great warrior as well?"

"He is a Solamnic Knight." That said it all.

Artavash held out her hand. "Come, sit by me. I wish to know you better." Sturm half-knelt in the pile of cushions by her right hand. She said, "You are educated, are you not?"

"I know my letters, and have studied the Chronicles of Huma."

"Huma? Who is that?"

"You don't know? Huma was the greatest hero of Krynn." Sturm cleared his throat and recited:

Thus Huma, Knight of Solamnia,

Lightbringer, first lancer,

Followed his light to the foot of the Khalkist Mountains,

To the stone feet of the Gods,

To the crouched silence of their temple.

He called down the lancemakers, he took on

Their unspeakable power to crush the unspeakable evil,

To thrust the coiling darkness

Back down the tunnel of the dragon's throat.

Sturm finished the canto. Artavash was smiling again. Very quietly she said, "And this demigod, this Huma; you are a descendant of his?"

"From olden times, yes," Sturm said with pride.