Roland Green: Knights of the Sword

Now, to be sure, people were actually fined or even imprisoned for failing to say “kingpriest.” But one could put all the fines so far collected in a purse that a strong man could carry, and the sentences of imprisonment were less than those meted out to drunkards who fought with the watch.

To keep his muscles from freezing him like a statue, Tarothin took a step sideways and looked about the chamber. Within a staff’s length he saw, wearing full robes, two kender, a full elf (Qualinesti, of course; the Silvanesti seldom lived outside their homeland, let alone entered any human order of priests, wizards, or warriors), two with the look of half-elves, and one who was short enough to be a dwarf, though he probably was not.

There lay what frightened Tarothin-the spreading notion that only humans, Istarian or otherwise, had virtue in the sight of the True Gods. This not only went against everything Tarothin had ever been taught, but it also went against everything he had seen or heard during a life now past its fortieth winter.

When the Istarians started enforcing that madness with fines and imprisonment-of humans or nonhumans, it did not matter-dire times indeed would be at hand. If the speaker had spoken so much as six words about that, Tarothin would have been content.

At last the speaker ran out of wind as thoroughly as he had long since run out of wits. Tarothin made polite noises as the man came down; he was, after all, a fellow Red Robe, and one needed harmony within one’s own order even more than with the others.

A buzz of voices made Tarothin turn, to see Rubina mounting the speaker’s stair and taking her seat. It could not be entirely his imagination that as she sat down she made her robes swirl a trifle more than nature allowed, revealing a well-shaped arm and truly exquisite ankles, as well as strong feet in sandals of leather with ebony clasps-and wine-colored toenails.

After this display, Rubina could have talked about the best formula for glue and still held at least the male portion of her audience. Instead, she bowed her head and said, solemnly:

“May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing to all gods, and to this honorable company.”

She then launched into a summary of a situation arising in the north that closely concerned her home city of Karthay.

“It will concern all here, and all magic-workers everywhere, before long. For how can we do our work in peace when there is no peace?”

That certainly won Rubina undivided attention. She continued, explaining that the outlaws and pirates of the north coast seemed to be growing in strength under the leadership-or so the tales ran-of a minotaur. They raided ever farther afield, and while moderate in their conduct, had everyone within several days’ ride of the shore looking over his shoulder. They had not taken seriously to piracy on the open sea as yet, but that could well change.

Even before that happened, Istar would surely assemble a fleet and an army to scourge the outlaws. This might seem innocent, even useful, but fleet and army would sit squarely across the mouth of the Bay of Istar from Karthay. No Karthayan ship could move without Istar’s permission, and it would be the easiest thing in the world to blockade Karthay over any slight dispute between the two cities.

“Istar has long been jealous of our prosperous merchants, and seeks to render them less prosperous. The scourge of the outlaws is real enough, but Istar will use it as a pretext for tyranny. And if we of Karthay resist, then the Knights of Solamnia will be bound to march, and the utter ruin of our city must follow.”

From the looks and mutterings Tarothin noticed, not all of those present found the idea of Karthay’s suppression as unpalatable as they ought to. He also hoped Rubina would not notice any of this. Her temper was legendary; unleashing it now would render her cause stillborn.

Tarothin cleared his throat. “If I might take a moment to add my thoughts to the Lady Rubina’s …” He waited a decent interval, then continued.

“Even if the Knights of Solamnia do not find cause to take part in this quarrel, Istar will have to increase its fleet and army. This means higher taxes, empty bellies, and people seeking to blame someone else for that fate. I will not judge either city, but I do call to your minds what has happened in other lands in other times.

“Istar has one great virtue-much of its empire it gained peacefully. What we can do to keep the city on that course in years to come, we should do.”

The response to that bit of common sense was gratifying-a flurry of suggestions, some more practical than others. The arguments were long and loud enough to fill the chamber with echoes, adding to the headache Tarothin had already acquired from the brazier smoke. They ended with an agreement to appoint two people from each of the orders to sit in council on the suggestions, weigh their merits, and propose acting on the best.

Tarothin would have liked more, but he doubted that he was the only one here whose head was splitting and whose stomach was rumbling ominously. For the sake of secrecy, the whole conclave and its chamber had been bound with spells that required fasting, and Tarothin at least had eaten nothing since a dried apple tart just before he went to bed last night.

The conclave had been declared closed, and the wizards were drifting toward one of the four low doors that led out into the underworld of the tower, when Tarothin felt a hand on his arm. He turned to meet Rubina, with a face so lowering and thunderous that for a moment he actually forgot her beauty.

Then awareness of the lustrous black hair and the high cheekbones and full lips returned. So did knowledge that his gesture of support for her had interrupted her speech, perhaps even ended it before she had wished. If she resented that-well, he could plead good intentions, but with either woman or gods, that plea was apt to be rejected.

“My good lady, if anything important was left unsaid because of my eager tongue-”

The thunderclouds blew away, and the huge, dark eyes stared into Tarothin’s with a warmth that, by a strange paradox, sent a chill creeping up his spine. Then Rubina laughed.

“Nothing I could have said was as important as having the conclave take the matter seriously. If it had not been for you, this might never have happened.”

“I am sure someone else would have had the sense to do the same,” Tarothin replied. “Our brothers and sisters sometimes seem witlings, but few of them actually are.”

“Nonetheless, I am grateful. Indeed, my gratitude could extend to dinner in my chambers tonight.”

Tarothin’s mind told his body to cease baying like a hound on the scent, which it seemed about to do. The invitation might have many meanings, most of them innocent, and several outcomes, likewise.

Still, when one looked at Rubina and thought of her chamber, the picture that came to one’s mind was a room largely filled by a gigantic bed, with every comfort ready at hand so that anyone in the bed need not leave it for quite a while.…

Tarothin lifted Rubina’s hands and bowed until he could brush them lightly with his lips. He nearly chipped a tooth on one of her rings-three or four to each hand, he judged-but he was rewarded with a silvery laugh.

“I have nothing to do that could reasonably vie with the pleasure of accepting your invitation,” Tarothin said, trying to assume the accent of a comic actor. This time Rubina’s laugh made him suspect that the gods had not made him for acting.

“I rejoice,” Rubina said, putting an arm briefly around Tarothin’s waist and standing close so that honey breath tickled his ear and played over his cheek and neck. “But now I must leave you, to make my chamber ready for hospitality instead of merely work.”