Florin brought his hand down to cover and then clasp hers, where it rested on his leg, and managed a smile.
“I thank you,” he said, “which should mean that ’tis now time for someone else to attack us.”
Jhessail smiled thinly. “ ’Tis certainly starting to seem that way, isn’t it? This life of adventuring is not what I dreamed of it being, back in Espar.”
“No,” Florin sighed. “ ’Tis… dirtier.”
No sudden menace came at them out of the night, so Jhessail risked a look back over her shoulder. The horses were faltering, plodding now as often as they trotted, and their riders all reeled and yawned in their saddles. This fighting and riding all night wasn’t the splendor-glory minstrels made it out to be! When they reached Halfhap- hah! If they reached Halfhap-it would be high time for all, humans and horses alike, to rest. Being Knights of Myth Drannor or carrying said Knights across the wide Realms, it seemed, were similarly wearying professions.
The young prisoner wasn’t in his cell, of course, but neither were the two Dragons who’d put him there. Evidently the lad had picked the lock and let himself out after their departure.
Thinking darkly murderous thoughts between persistent urges to just blow out the lamps and seek his bed, Dauntless trudged back to his desk-and came to a sudden halt at what he saw awaiting him. Watching Gods Above, what deep sin had he committed, without even remembering doing so, to be so amply rewarded this night?
The Lady Lord of Arabel herself stood waiting for him, leaning on his desk with her hand on her hip. She was in full armor-the leathers that clung to her so interestingly, not her battlefield coat-of-plate-and no fewer than four senior Purple Dragon officers were standing behind her, similarly garbed. Everyone wore swords.
“Do you leave this desk unguarded often, Ornrion?” Myrmeen Lhal asked mildly.
“No,” Dauntless told her. “Only during jailbreaks.”
“Oh? Who’s missing?”
“A young lad, a thief, from Westgate, who was caught climbing through a window not his own, but insisted he was here to tryst with Princess Alusair-who was in Arabel this night. He gave his name as Rathgar.”
“And stole your keys, by the look of it,” Myrmeen added, looking pointedly at his belt.
“And stole my keys,” Dauntless agreed. “I take it worse matters have arisen whilst I was inspecting an empty cell?”
“You take it correctly. I understand you were earlier this night given the responsibility of escorting the adventurers known as the Knights of Myth Drannor out of the city?”
Dauntless managed-just-not to sigh. “They were attacked by some Zhentilar at the stables used by the war wizards, and upon hearing reports of the butchery, I gathered some Dragons from the barracks and made haste to arrest them. Laspeera appeared, rode with us, and commanded me not to detain them, but rather to assist her in conducting them out of the gates. I obeyed, and they were off up the Mountain Ride by the time the rainclouds fled and the moon came out. Whereupon Wizard of War Laspeera took herself-I presume-out of Arabel by magic, without a word of farewell.”
“I see. Constal Raskarel, explain to the ornrion here what befell Lord Ebonhawk this night.”
One of the officers stepped forward, fixed Dauntless with a frosty look, and announced flatly, “The younger Lord Ebonhawk-Lord Duskur Ebonhawk-had much to drink this night, and so was out late, unsteady on his feet, but within a walking ring of bodyguards who had imbibed nothing. They were traversing an alley hard by the stables as the fray you referred to was abating, and one of these Knights of Myth Drannor-a woman who goes by the name of ‘Pennae,’ we believe, and who steals for a living-encountered the young lord, cut away his purse, sprang up onto a nearby balcony, and thence climbed a drainpipe to the roofs, and got away.”
Dauntless nodded, completely unsurprised. “That wench,” he said, “is so low she could put on a tall helm and stroll right under a slithering viper!”
“And so?” another officer-an oversword-snapped.
“And so… what?” Dauntless asked. “An interesting tale, but the miscreant is now out of my jurisdiction, transported thus under Crown orders, and-”
“And so,” Myrmeen said gently, “I find myself needing to return this miscreant to the jurisdiction of my most capable ornrion, who stands most experienced in dealings with these particular adventurers. I’m temporarily relieving you of your engaging duties here, Dauntless, and ordering you to ride after the Knights of Myth Drannor, with however many Dragons you feel you’ll need, and recover all that this Pennae stole from young Lord Duskur Ebonhawk.”
“But-”
“These orders are effective right now, Ornrion Dahauntul!”
“Uh-yes, Lady Lord Lhal. I go.” Swallowing his curses, Dauntless turned and headed for the garrison stables, snapping the names of five Dragons he wanted riding with him over his shoulder.
“What,” Myrmeen Lhal asked mildly, “not the princess?”
It was a chill morning of drifting mists as the two shivering guards pushed open the creaking western gates of Halfhap.
Old Pheldarr stared out and down the empty road as far as the curling mists allowed-the length of a good bowshot, no more-spat thoughtfully onto the cobbles between his worn and split boots, and announced, “First watch is yours, Rorld. I’ll get the stew hot.”
No sooner had he lumbered slowly into the gatehouse, still shivering, than a man in a splendid doublet, with breeches and boots to match, stepped out of a deep doorway across the street and strolled over to join Rorld-who had squared his shoulders and posed himself against the gatepost, spear placed in one rest and shield propped in another, so that from more than a few strides away it appeared as if he were wearing the one and holding the other at an unwavering angle. Then Rorld devoted himself to practicing his spitting.
“Our deal stands?” the well-dressed man murmured, coming to a stop beside the gate-guard.
“It does. When d’ye expect these adventurers, Velmorn?”
“Right about now,” was the reply, accompanied by a lifted, pointing finger.
Rorld peered into the mists, and beheld a weary line of riders, swaying in their saddles atop even wearier mounts. “Hunh. They’ll be going no farther soon.”
“Indeed,” Velmorn agreed, stepping a careful pace farther out into the road. He stood watching the adventurers approach in gently smiling silence, until just the right moment. Whereupon he nodded greeting to Pennae and Florin and observed, “Long ride.”
“Long enough,” Pennae agreed. “You look like a man paid to stand awaiting wayfarers and recommend an inn.”
Velmorn grinned. “This being the flourishing many-spires realm-seat of Halfhap, you’d be right about all except the ‘paid’ part.”
Pennae smiled. “Well?”
“Well, you have the look of adventurers, and that means you’ll find a proper welcome only at one place inside our walls. The Oldcoats Inn. Turn right at the fork ahead, then left immediately, and when that road bends north again, it’s the black half-timbered building on your left, with the arched gate for its stableyard. It has a signboard. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks, friend,” Florin said appreciatively, as he passed. Velmorn and Rorld nodded pleasantly to them all: the thief and the ranger; the little lass-no, she was a little older than that, just small; the two priests; and the watchful warrior-woman bringing up the rear.
“Lathander and Tymora,” Rorld commented on the priests’ holy symbols, as they watched the travelers turn right where the street forked. “Adventurers.”
Velmorn nodded. “Adventurers.”
The gate-guard casually held out his hand. “They’re the ones, hey?”
“They’re the ones,” Velmorn replied, spilling a clinking stack of Lord Yellander’s gold coins into Rorld’s palm.
The Purple Dragons who guarded the Royal Palace in Suzail were neither young nor inexperienced. They knew their duties very well-and when to call upon reinforcements.
“Just here, sir,” the grizzled old first sword said with a puzzled frown, pointing at the floor. Something small, round, and blackened was lying right in the angle where the floor and two walls met, nigh a door. A ring. “You smell it too?”
The lionar nodded and bent down to peer at the ring. He started to reach for it, and then caught sight of
