Richard Byers - The Spectral Blaze

The scrawny woman rounded on her in a swirl of red. The voluminous folds of her garments kept swinging and flapping for another moment after her bony body had stopped moving. “And why was it true? Why would you let them escape Chessenta when it had just been proved that dragonborn were behind the Green Hand murders?”

Shala scowled. “Because, Lady Halonya, it hadn’t been proved that all dragonborn, up to and including Tarhun’s own emissaries, were guilty. I hoped not, and wanted to preserve the alliance if, in fact, it was genuine.”

“Even though I warned you what sort of treacherous, murdering scum the dragonborn are,” said Zan-akar Zeraez. The Akanulan ambassador was a stormsoul genasi. He had silvery spikes in place of hair, and a complex pattern of argent lines etching skin the same deep purple as a grape. Sparks often crawled and crackled along them, especially when he was agitated, but that wasn’t the case at the moment. Apparently he was satisfied with the way events were unfolding.

“It was unquestionably a blunder,” Tchazzar said. “But then, we already knew Shala wasn’t up to the task of ruling Chessenta. That’s why I had to return from the realm of the gods.”

“Majesty,” Jhesrhi, “the point isn’t whether or not Lady Shala made a good decision. It’s whether Khouryn should be blamed for obeying an order from the person who was, at that time, the supreme authority in the land.”

“That’s not the whole point,” Halonya said. “The sellswords who marched south with the dwarf came back as soon as their errand was done. But he stayed in Tymanther for months afterward. Why was that?”

“I had Captain Fezim’s permission to take a leave of absence,” Khouryn said. “I wanted to head on down to East Rift to see my wife and kin.”

“And did you go?” Tchazzar asked.

“No,” Khouryn said. “The ash giants were on the attack and had closed the Dustroad. And my griffon had died on the way from here to Djerad Thymar, so I couldn’t just fly over them. I stuck around, hoping the dragonborn would beat the giants back and get the road open again, as they finally did. But by then, it was time for me to rejoin the Brotherhood.”

“Riding on a bat,” Zan-akar said. “The steed of the dragonborn’s Lance Defenders.”

“It was a gift,” Khouryn said. “I helped defeat the giants.”

Halonya whipped back around to address Tchazzar. “He admits to giving aid to your enemies!”

“I didn’t know they were enemies,” Khouryn said. “I still don’t understand why it needs to be that way. I mean, I realize that a handful of dragonborn committed crimes here in Luthcheq. I helped catch them. But I’ve spent quite a bit of time talking to Tarhun and Perra, and I’m sure they want Chessenta and Tymanther to be friends.”

Tchazzar sneered. “Sadly, I know otherwise.”

“Majesty,” Jhesrhi said, “I say again that, while Tymanther may be the enemy, Khouryn hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“He gave aid to Tymanther,” Halonya said. “So much aid, apparently, that they honored him with one of their special treasures. And he’s still speaking well of them, right to Your Majesty’s face. Don’t let him go around saying the same sort of things to others. Don’t let him weaken your warriors’ resolve!”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Khouryn said.

“Would you tell us everything you’ve learned about Tymanther’s defenses?” Zan-akar asked.

Khouryn took a breath. “Yes. If Captain Fezim or His Majesty ordered me to.”

“I don’t believe you,” the genasi said.

“Neither do I,” Halonya said. “Not unless we force him to give up what he knows.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Jhesrhi said. For a moment, yellow flame rippled up from her hand to the head of her staff.

Zan-akar put on a sober, nuanced expression worthy of a diplomat, one that simultaneously sympathized with her distress and rejected her opinion. “With respect, Lady Jhesrhi, not from Akanul’s point of view. We’ve joined Chessenta in a difficult, dangerous undertaking, and we naturally expect our allies to make choices that maximize the chances of success. Here, the choice seems clear. His Majesty can let a fellow of uncertain loyalties go free to foment whatever mischief comes to mind. Or he can detain him and question him rigorously to extract the valuable information he undoubtedly possesses.”

“Majesty,” Jhesrhi said, “I beg you not to abuse an innocent person.”

“And I beg you to protect your children from spies and traitors,” Halonya said.

Frowning, Tchazzar hesitated. Plainly he was looking for a way to placate both women, and just as plainly, even a “living god” wouldn’t be able to find one.

Finally he said, “Lady Jhesrhi, it’s understandable that you feel a… nostalgic attachment to someone from your sellsword days. But you’re a royal counselor of Chessenta now, and like all of us charged with the protection of our people, you must put their welfare first.”

“Yes!” Halonya crowed.

A trace of amusement in his face, Tchazzar turned to look at her.

Halonya colored and made a visible effort to compose herself. “I mean… may I keep on overseeing the prisoner? You have priests in your church who are good at convincing people to talk.”

“She’s talking about the wyrmkeepers who tortured Sunlady Cera!” Jhesrhi said.

“I know that,” Tchazzar said.

“Majesty, I’m the one who found you chai-”

“You’re also the one who acknowledged that debt is paid!” Tchazzar snapped. “The one who promised to speak no more about it! I don’t want to hear any more about this either! The subject is closed!”

“Majesty!” Khouryn shouted. “I know what’s written in the Brotherhood’s contract! I know you’re not supposed to do this!” Even as he spoke the words, he knew they were useless.

And he was right. Tchazzar waved his hand, and the guards grabbed Khouryn to wrestle him around and drag him away. Halonya gave Jhesrhi a spiteful, triumphant smile.

Aoth liked the warm, summer sunlight, the feel of Cera nestled up behind him with her arms around his waist, and the forbidding but breathtaking vista that was eastern Akanul. The landscape below was a jumble of cliffs, rocky outcroppings, and ravines. Off to the north, the so-called Glass Mesa-which was more likely quartz-gleamed like an enormous gem. There were plenty of earthmotes too, floating islands in the sky, some of substantial size and covered in vegetation.

It was fun being off on a journey with no one but his familiar, one other griffon rider, and the woman he supposed he’d come to love for company. It reminded him of his youth, when he’d served, often as a scout and courier, in the Griffon Legion, in the old Thay that Szass Tam and the Spellplague had destroyed. It had mostly been a pleasant, carefree life, and it had never even occurred to him to aspire to anything more.

But of course he wasn’t that young soldier anymore. He’d acquired far heavier responsibilities, and despite the distractions of the day, at odd moments, worry gnawed at him. Especially since, for the first time ever, he’d left the Brotherhood with none of its senior officers to oversee it.

He could have left Gaedynn. He probably should have. But he also needed trustworthy companions to help him accomplish his mission. If-

Enough! said Jet.

Aoth smiled. What?

You already made your decision, the griffon said, so why are you still fretting about it? I don’t know how humans ever accomplish anything, second-guessing yourselves the way you do.

Somebody has to do the thinking, said Aoth.

The thinking, yes, said Jet. The dithering, no.

Aoth was still trying to frame a suitable retort when he spotted the minotaur. The hulking creature with the bull-like head was climbing up a steep trail to the top of a ridge. A line of similar creatures followed it.