Мэтт Форбек - The Queen of Death

Sallah dropped Kandler’s hands and stepped away from him. “Very well,” she said. “You go ahead and get yourself and your girl killed on your terms. I won’t stay to watch it. When this airship next lands, I’m getting off.”

“Battlefield romances never last anyhow,” Monja said, clapping Kandler on the butt. He nearly leaped over the railing in surprise.

The justicar had been wrapped in thought, and the others had chosen to give him his space as he watched the sunset, considering everything that had happened since the day the Knights of the Silver Flame had come to Mardakine. It now seemed so long ago. So much had happened since then.

Kandler arched an eyebrow down at the halfling, who winked up at him and patted the decking next to her. “Sit on down here and tell Monja all your problems,” she said with a smile.

Kandler searched that look for some hint of sarcasm, but she seemed sincere. He let himself down next to her and grimaced at her. “I thought shamans only dealt with religious matters.”

Monja snorted. “Out in the Talenta Plains, we all ride many different mounts. Shamans serve as healers, leaders, counselors, even cooks. You should try my roast beetles.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

Monja patted Kandler on the knee. “She would have left you eventually,” she said. “You know that.”

Kandler shook his head. “I guess I didn’t.”

“A Knight of the Silver Flame? Setting up a tent with a Brelish spy?”

“Agent of the Citadel, and I gave all that up years ago.” “Are the knights even allowed? Don’t they have some sort of vows of chastity?”

Kandler stared back across the length of the airship at Sallah, who stood behind the wheel. Her crimson hair whipped behind her in the rushing wind as the airship sailed south, toward the sea. Her eyes blazed with the light of the dying sun.

“I hope not,” he said.

He hadn’t considered the question before, and now, he realized, he might never have a chance to learn the answer. Sallah had kept away from him since storming off, not an easy trick on a craft the size of the Phoenix, but she had managed it.

“Not a lot of pretty girls where you come from?” Kandler laughed, despite his sour mood. “Not many,” he said. “I think Esprë’s beautiful, of course, but I’m biased.” His gaze shifted to where she and Xalt and Duro huddled together near the port rail.

They had nothing on the ship to use for a cookfire, and Esprë had wanted a hot meal. Xalt had managed to rig up a long wooden arm, which he’d stabbed through a hunk of beef they’d gotten from the dwarves in Gaptown. He stood now with his arm extended, holding the steak as close to the airship’s elemental ring of fire as he dared, and it had already started to brown.

As Kandler watched, the ring of fire flared angrily at the warforged, engulfing the food. Xalt drew back the flaming food instantly and blew out the flames with a blast of air from his lungs. This set Esprë to nearly hysterical giggling, and for the first time in a long while Kandler saw her happy.

“She reminds me so much of her mother,” Kandler said.

“What about Sallah?”

Kandler shook his head. “They’re nothing alike. You wouldn’t have caught Esprina dead in a temple. She was the most even-tempered person I’d ever met. Sometimes …”

He wondered why he felt compelled to tell Monja anything. Had she worked some kind of spell upon him? He hadn’t known her all that long, but maybe that was the reason he felt he could unburden himself on her. That, and the fact that she’d asked for it.

“Sometimes she’d look at me, and there was this horrible sadness in her eyes. I just knew it came from the fact that she thought she’d live on for hundreds of years after I died. To her, loving me must have seemed like trying to hold on to summer. Eventually you know autumn has to come, but you ignore it as long as you can and try to enjoy the best days of the year the most you can.”

“And that’s different from how Sallah looks at you?’

Kandler shook his head. “No. That part’s exactly the same.”

Her belly full of scorched beef eaten from the tip of a sword, Esprë wandered over to where Kandler sat chatting with Burch. She’d been dreading this for some time, but she didn’t see that waiting to take care of it would make it anything but worse.

The sun had long since set, and the night would have been crisp, cool, and filled with stars and moons had it not been for the ring of fire that kept the airship aloft and had cooked her meal so well. As it was, she could make out a few of the constellations out beyond the ship’s prow, off toward the southern horizon, and the heat from the ring of fire forced the chill far away.

“Hey,” Kandler said as Esprë came closer. “You get enough to eat?”

She nodded and rubbed her belly. “I’m sure I’ve had better, but I can’t remember when.”

“Leave any for us?” Burch said, licking his lips.

Esprë felt mortified. “I’m sorry,” she said, happy that with the ring of fire to her rear her face was shrouded in shadow. “I didn’t think—”

“Relax,” Burch grinned. “I’m only joking. I can see from here that Xalt’s already got another steak on that stick of his.”

“I’m sure it will be even better than the first,” Esprë said. “He’s a fast learner.”

“What’s on your mind?” Kandler said.

“Does anything have to be on my mind?”

Kandler smirked. “I know you, Esprë. Don’t try to hide who you are, not from me.”

The fact that Kandler knew her so well frustrated Esprë, and at the same time, it comforted her. It felt good to realize that there were people in her life who had been around her enough to know how to read her intentions, her moods.

“I—I just wanted to say that I think we’re doing the right thing.”

Kandler’s smile shed as much warmth as the ring of fire. “Thanks,” he said. “That means more to me than you could probably know.”

“I just … she started. Then she stopped and took a deep breath. She wanted this to come out right.

“Yes?”

“I just don’t know if I need everyone to come with me on this—this …

“Quest?” said Kandler.

“Suicide mission?” said Burch.

“Whatever. I just don’t see what good having a lot of people with me will serve. I’ll be facing down a horde of dragons, right? All together we barely managed to kill one dragon.”

“Don’t forget that half-dragon he had with him,” said Burch, only half serious. “He had to be worth at least,” he looked to Kandler, “what would you say?”

“Oh, a half a dragon. At least.” Kandler laughed, and it felt contagious. Esprë had to join in.

The next moment, though, Esprë turned serious again. “Even rounding up, call that two dragons. How many are we likely to see in Argonnessen? Two dozen? Two hundred? Two thousand?”

“What’s your point?” Kandler said.

“What good are all these people going to do?” she asked. “Why risk everyone’s lives? We don’t all have to die.”

Kandler looked hard into the elf-girl’s eyes. “Is this because Sallah wants to leave?”

“She makes more sense than you admit.” As the words left her lips, Esprë wished she could take them back, but it was far too late.

Kandler pursed his lips for a moment. “Who would you put off the ship?” he asked. “Duro? Xalt? Monja?”

Esprë nodded.

“Te’oma?”

“Certainly.” She stifled a laugh.

“Why stop there?” Burch said.

“What do you mean?” Esprë said. It felt like a stream of ice had shot through her guts.

“Why not get rid of Kandler and me too?” Burch asked.