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We
We set sail this morning and by early afternoon, the mountainous crags surrounding
Minoc were lost to the southern horizon. Our going has been slow, for the winds
have been frugal today, even when Faulina summoned them with her magic. I would
implore Sutek to raise his will against the weather, but he has already paid
his passage, and it would not be fair to ask any more of his services.
I
must admit that I had my doubts about Astarol, but thus far, the minstrel has
kept his end of our bargain. He is a good man, a friendly one, and kind,
especially with the few children on board. Faulina enjoys his company as well.
If the three of us could be together for some time, I think we could become
vast friends.
* * *
Evening had fallen by the time we rounded
the northeastern coast of the Isle of Deeds. Faulina and I stood alone on the
bow of the Ararat, the glow of her
staff surrounding us, the melody of Astarol's mandolin faint from Ararat's stern.
"'The Dream of Lady Nann,'" Faulina
whispered, listening to the minstrel's tune. "It has been many years since I
heard that song." She smiled. "Our passengers spent the afternoon dancing to
his pipes. Even those who took ill from the sea forgot about their sickness. He
has a way with people."
"A way with the ladies, thou dost mean,"
roared a warrior who strode up to us. Red braids and a beard burned beneath the
shadows of his helm. The surcoat covering his suit of chain mail blazed with a
fiery orange. He stopped, towering over us with a menacing frown. His muscles
rippled as he crossed his arms and then, slowly, he released a forlorn sigh. "I
have never faced a foe such as he," he muttered. He glared at Faulina, his
eyebrows coalescing above his bulbous nose. "'Tis thy fault, I suppose. Ever
since Johne found thee, I have not had need to worry about competition. I
suppose that I am out of practice." The air shook with the thunderclap of his
snort. "Bah! As if porting that mage, Sutek, is not bad enough. A quiet one, he
is, and a quiet mage is a deadly mage. There are rumors he was born in the
Abyss itself. And the folk of Minoc, they spoke of him opening the dungeon
Covetous with a single word!" He peered darkly at the enigmatic mage, a faint
figure who stood separated from the folks clustered around Astarol. "Does he do
naught but count the stars?"
"He was certainly not born in the Abyss,
Nosfentre," Faulina chided. "He is the student of Lord Shalineth, overseer of
the Lycaeum, and a good friend of Sir John, the astronomer."
"Meaningless names to me," Nosfentre
grumbled. "Perhaps thou shouldst tell Astarol. I am sure he could make
something out of it."
"Art thou envious of the minstrel, Nosfentre?"
I asked.
"At least the stories I tell are true!"
Nosfentre puffed his cheeks in exasperation. "Great Earth Serpent, indeed! I
wager the man would shriek if he saw so much as a snake. Yet he has the ladies
believing he's Lord British himself!" Then he winked at me and pointed at
Faulina. "Watch thy back, Johne. He's likely to steal her away."
I laughed. "I do not need to watch my
back, Nosfentre. I have thee to do it for me. Just as I always have. Thy blade
hath saved me more than once."
"Aye, that is true." He withdrew his
broad sword from its scabbard. The dark, violet jewel in the sword's hilt
glittered in the moonlight. "'Tis a good blade," he said, as he sheathed it. He
appraised us with solemn eyes. "Given to me by good friends. A shame the three
of us shall have to part when we arrive in Britain." He clasped his hand on my
shoulder, the closest Nosfentre ever came to an embrace. "I wish thee both good
health and safe journeys when I leave."
"Do not worry about us," Faulina said
tenderly. "We are proud that thou hast been asked to join Lord Blackthorn."
"Pride is not a virtue," Nosfentre said
with a smile.
"No, but honor is," she replied. "And it
is the highest honor to serve in Blackthorn's company. His desire to uphold the
virtues in Britannia is known to all. Since thou dost refuse to take pride in
that, allow us to do it for thee."
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