Solamnics for Linsha’s courageous actions and that two of the three Solamnic officers had regrettably died in a raid on their secret headquarters. The Knights of Neraka were suspected.
It hadn’t taken long for the surviving officer to drop the charges against her, and the issue never came to trial. Linsha was quietly cleared and reassigned to a garrison where she could put her considerable talents to use- and where she was far from the center of Solamnic activity without being truly exiled. She was far from home and family, far from the seat of her honored order, and far from those few she could call friends.
Yet Linsha did not allow those facts to dismay her. She chose to remember instead that she and Lord Bight were still alive, that she had cleared her name with the Grand Master, and she had kept her honor intact. Sir Remmik could go blow up a drainpipe.
“Yes, Sir Remmik,” she said in a bland voice. “Obedience. I will work on it.”
His dark eyes narrowed into black slits in the flickering torchlight. The man was older than Linsha by ten years and intelligent enough to recognize that tone of voice. He knew she would not make a sincere effort to become the Knight he thought she should be. But beyond berating her in front of other Knights, there was little he could do. She was of equal rank in the Order of the Rose. Only his seniority and his expertise with planning and supply put him ahead of her in command of the garrison. He would need a severe breach of conduct on her part to inflict any form of punishment on her-and she knew it.
Linsha watched as these thoughts paraded over his face in a quick procession of grimaces. Although he was only slightly over her height, he still managed to look down his long nose at her.
Why was it, she wondered, that there were some people in the world who shared an instant and mutual animosity with each other? No rational explanation. No obvious reason. They just grated on each other’s self-control from first sight. This man was an excellent example. No matter what she tried, she could not banish the dislike that reared up every time she and Sir Remmik came face to face.
“Clean yourself up, Knight,” he snapped. “You are duty officer tonight. Tomorrow, Iyesta asks for you to come to her lair at sunrise. Dismissed.”
Linsha quelled the burst of pleasure that threatened to show on her face. A visit to the brass’s lair was always enjoyable. Of course, it meant no sleep in the morning.
She jerked her head in the barest nod and turned on her heel without bothering to salute. Let him go salute himself. He probably practices saluting in a mirror so he can be perfect.
Linsha strode into the darkness away from the infuriating man and entered the barracks attached to the main keep.
Going into her small niche, she lit an oil lamp on the narrow table that was one of only three pieces of furniture in the room. A narrow bed crowded against the left wall and a wooden chest sat at its foot. Linsha had learned early to travel light and forego the encumbrances of too many personal items. Her room was bare and utilitarian; it contained all she needed to sleep and dress.
She tossed her torn shirt in the chest for one of those cold winter days when she had nothing else better to do than mend clothes, then she pulled out her uniform. Remmik’s words came to her again.
Linsha toyed with the idea of a transfer as she pulled on the blue pants and the blue and silver tunic. Had she served enough time here for the Grand Master to consider her request? Would her request even make it past Sir Morrec? The old man liked her and respected her abilities. One of his greatest strengths as a leader was his skill in bringing out the best efforts of his Knights and allowing them to do their work. She had to admit, even as much as she despised him, Sir Remmik performed excellent work and was superbly placed for his abilities. It was just a shame he was such a rigid, unforgiving, unpleasant example of a Solamnic Knight.
Linsha paused and ran a thumb over the ornate embroidered crest on her jacket-a crown over a kingfisher perched on a horizontal sword decorated with a rose. The design had been sewn, at Sir Remmik’s request, in silver threads on all the uniforms of those serving the citadel. It was rather flashy, Linsha decided, but the symbols of the Solamnics represented almost two thousand years of dedicated service and sacrifice. They were the emblems of an Order she had dedicated her life to serve. To serve with honor. How honorable would it be to request her way out of here?
No, she would not request a transfer. That was only the wishful thinking of a tired, out-of-sorts mind that had seen death in the point of a crossbow bolt only a short hour ago. Linsha laughed at herself. After all, the Measure promised that all who made the supreme sacrifice for the sake of their country would be rewarded in the afterlife. Maybe learning to put up with Sir Remmik would earn her at least a day of celestial feasting or something.
A sharp tap disturbed her thoughts, and she hurried to the window slit and opened the wooden shutter. A large owl, delicately patterned with creamy bars and spots, sidestepped through the narrow opening and walked carefully onto Linsha’s outstretched wrist. Agate black eyes stared down at the woman and a soft raspy voice said, “You could have opened the window. There is no perch out there.”
“I’m sorry, Varia,” Linsha said, her voice hushed. “I was distracted.”
A throaty chuckle vibrated in the owl’s throat. “Remmik again. I watched you follow him around like a disobedient squire.”
“It was his idea of punishment.”
Linsha lowered the bird to eye level and gently laid her face against the owl’s pale breast feathers. The warm smell of bird, pine trees, sun, and desert wind filled her nostrils-the familiar scents of an old friend.
“It is good to see you. You have been gone too long.”
Varia nibbled Linsha’s auburn curls and bobbed her head a time or two in her own greeting. Her dark eyes gazed unblinking into the woman’s green ones. Two tufts of feathers grew on either side of Varia’s round head like horns; they rose and fell according to her mood. Now they were flat in contentment as she settled comfortably into place.
Varia was similar to the elusive talking Darken Owls in that she could communicate with humans, and she was an excellent judge of character, but she was the size and coloration of a normal owl. Linsha had never learned if Varia was one of a kind or part of a species somehow related to those Darken Owls. Not that it truly mattered to her. Varia had found Linsha during a reconnaissance ride into the Khalkist Mountains nearly six years ago, and after a careful scrutiny, the owl had attached herself to a companion worthy of her friendship. Linsha had been surprised, then delighted, and they had been together ever since. Even during Linsha’s incarceration by the Solamnic council, Varia had found shelter in the hayloft of a nearby stable and patiently waited for her to be released.
“I do not have much to tell you,” Varia said in her whispering voice. Although the owl was a virtuoso of sounds from faint whispers to demonic screams, no one in the garrison knew she could talk. The other knights thought Linsha simply had a fondness for pet owls, an ignorance Varia preferred and Linsha found useful.
Linsha sat on the edge of her bed and lowered the owl onto her knee. She knew she should be hurrying, but Varia had been gone for three days on what she liked to call a spy flight, and Linsha was anxious to hear her news. She stroked a fingertip down the bird’s soft, spotted chest. “Tell me.”
“Everything looks normal. I flew a path around the city from the cliffs near Barddeath’s Creek, over the Scorpion Wadi, up past Sinking Wells, as far as the edge of the Silvanesti Forest, and south again to the big bluffs at Kirith Head. I saw nothing out of the ordinary. There are a few nomads out there. The drovers are moving their herds out into the summer pastures. Centaur patrols are everywhere. I saw a small hand of elves camped near the Shield keeping watch, and a small caravan from City of the Morning Dew is headed this way.”
“How does the country fare?”
“The hest I have seen it. The grasslands are green and lush. The wells and oasises-”
“Oases,” said Linsha.
“What?”
“It’s oases, not oasises.”
“You humans.” Varia ruffled her feathers and gave a long blink. “Anyway, the
When Linsha did not respond, Varia tightened her talons lightly against the woman’s knee until her gaze focused once again.
“What exactly are you looking for?” asked the owl.
