'For that amount of gold, you can have all the words you want.' The barkeeper tucked his greasy rag under his arm. Sturm wondered idly which was dirtier, the rag or the barkeep's canvas shirt.
'What happened here?' asked Kitiara.
'They don't like mercenaries here. Ten nights ago, horsemen attacked the village. Carried off everything they could grab, including some women and children.'
'Who were they?' Sturm asked. 'Did they wear insignia?'
'Some say they wasn't true men at all,' said the barkeeper. 'Some say they had hard, dark skin and — ' He looked from side to side to see if anyone else was listening. '- and some say they had tails!'
Sturm started to ask another question, but Kitiara stopped him with a glance. 'We need to buy passage to Caergoth,' she said. 'Will anybody in Zaradene take us?'
'Dunno. Some of them lost heavy in the raid. They'd as like to slit your throats as take you to sea.' The barkeep went back to dispensing his awful wares, Sturm surveyed the room. 'I don't like this,' he said. 'Raiders with tails? What sort of monsters could they have been?'
'Don't take that one's mutterings too seriously,' Kitiara said. 'The farther you get from safe havens like Solace, the wilder and weirder the tales you'll hear.'
She tossed back the Nostarian wine without a shudder. 'Skinhead is right about one thing; we have no friends in this room.'
From behind their backs, a voice said, 'Be not certain of that, me hearties.'
Sturm and Kitiara faced the speaker. He was a full head shorter than Kitiara, with sharply pointed features and a clean, boyish face — signs of elven blood. Kitiara saw a flash of Tanis as she had last seen him, blood on his lips, his cheek red from her slap, staring at her in shock.
'Tirolan Ambrodel, at your service.' He bowed from the waist. 'Mariner, map maker, gem cutter, and piper.'
Tirolan reached for Kitiara's hand and raised it to his lips. He didn't kiss it, but touched it to his forehead. She smiled. Sturm introduced them both and asked,
'Can you provide us with transport to Caergoth, Master Ambrodel?'
'Easily, sir. Me craft, High Crest, is laden with dunnage for that very port. Will it be just the two of you?'
'And two horses. We're traveling light,' Kitiara said.
'For two passengers and two horses, I shall require five gold pieces — each.' Sturm gaped at the high price, but Kitiara laughed scornfully.
'We'll give you four gold pieces for the both of us,' she said.
'Eight for both,' countered Tirolan.
'Five,' she said. 'And we'll pay in Silvanesti gold.'
Tirolan Ambrodel's arched brows bunched over his thin nose.
'True gold of Eli?'
Kitiara picked up the coin from the bar and flashed it in the mariner's face. Carefully, almost tenderly, Tirolan reached for the elven gold. He held the coin, caressed it, and ran his fingertips over the worn inscription. 'Very fine,' he said. 'Do you know that this coin is more than five hundred years old? Minted just before the Lords of the East withdrew into the forest, severing all ties with the human world. How many of these relics have you tossed away for meat and wine?'
'I had a dozen,' said Kitiara. 'Now I have five. They are yours if you ferry us to Caergoth.'
'Done!'
'When do we sail?' asked Sturm.
'The tide ebbs with the first moon's rise. When the silver moon clears the grip of the sea, we up anchor! And away.' Tirolan slipped the coin into a suede pouch on his belt. 'Now, follow me, and I'll take you to the High Crest.'
Sturm dropped some coins on the bar, and they exited the tavern. They led Tallfox and Pira through the streets of Zaradene, following as Tirolan Ambrodel led. People turned from them everywhere they went. One old crone uttered a charm against bad luck as Tirolan passed.
'The natives are very superstitious,' he said. 'Anything or anyone foreign is believed dangerous these days.'
Sturm looked back at the circle of stakes in the dunes above the town.
'They have reason to be afraid,' he said.
Zaradene had a single decrepit wharf. Sturm was uncertain the warped planks would hold Tallfox's weight, but Tirolan assured him that it was safe. Cargo far heavier than horses passed over the wharf every day, he said.
'Where's your boat?' asked Kitiara. 'Me ship is beyond the headland, yonder.'
'Why anchor so far out?' Sturm asked.
'Me vessel and crew are not well liked in Zaradene. When we must call here, we moor in deep water so as to avoid trouble with the natives.'
A wide, shell-like lighter was tied to the pier. A man lay asleep in the stern, a ragged cap over his face. Tirolan jumped into the lighter, startling the man into wakefulness.
'This your boat?' said Tirolan in a loud, cheerful voice.
'Uh, yeah.'
'Well then, hop to it, man. You can earn your grog money for the week.'
The horses were led to a gangplank. Kitiara spoke soothingly to Pira, and the mare entered the rocking lighter without too much trouble. Tallfox, on the other hand, balked completely. Sturm wrapped the reins around his fists and tried to drag the terrified animal into the boat.
'No, no, that's not the way,' said Tirolan. He hopped to the narrow gunwale and walked agilely to the foot of the gangplank. 'May I, Master Brightblade?'
Sturm reluctantly gave over the reins. Tallfox began to calm the moment Tirolan's slim hands stroked his neck. Tirolan spoke soothingly to the horse. 'Strong as you are, and you're afraid of a little boat ride? I'm not afraid. Am I better than you? Am I braver?'
To Sturm and Kitiara's astonishment, Tallfox shook his head energetically and snorted.
'Then,' continued Tirolan in quiet, golden tones, 'step down and take your place with your friends.' The chestnut gelding stepped daintily into the lighter and stood quietly next to Pira. Their tails switched gently in time with the rocking of the boat.
'How did you do that?' asked Kitiara. Tirolan shrugged.
'I have a way with animals.' After sculling away from the pier, the boatman raised a tattered lateen sail. The lighter skimmed between bobbing fishing craft and past the few major merchant ships in the harbor. The laden boat ran uneventfully all the way to the southern headland. Then the wind died, and the boatman went back to his sweep.
Dark slate-and-indigo clouds piled up on the southern horizon. Against the blue and green of 'the sea stood the white hull of the High Crest. Its shape was quite unlike the other boats in Zaradene harbor. The sheer line rose from the low, sharp bow to a high poop. The single lofty mast was painted white, too, and in the freshening air, a green pennant rippled from the masthead.
'Me vessel,' said Tirolan proudly. 'Isn't she beautiful?'
'I've never seen a white ship before,' said Sturm.
'It's very handsome,' Kitiara said. She frowned privately at Sturm and gestured to him.
Amidships, they huddled between their mounts. 'This is getting stranger by the minute,' whispered Kitiara. 'An elven captain, shunned by the local folk, a strange white ship anchored far from other vessels. There's more to this than meets the eye. I'm glad I lied about how many gold coins I have.' Sturm said, 'I agree. The way he charmed Tallfox wasn't natural. I think he used a spell.'
To Sturm, steeped in the Solamnic tradition, there was no worse sign than the use of magic.
Kitiara put a hand to his shoulder and said, 'Keep your sword handy.'
'All is well?' called Tirolan, over his shoulder.
'Very well,' said Kitiara. 'Oh, your ship is big.' They were now only a hundred yards from it, and the High Crest filled their view. The white ship rode steadily in the waves, anchored at both bow and stern. The deck and rigging were empty, but a boarding ladder hung over the bulwark, waiting. Tirolan snared a dangling rope and tied
