Periwinkle, the flower of memory…and of Isvaria Orfressa, the keeper of that memory.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“So you think I should actually listen to this fool?” Arthnar Sabrehand, Fire Oar and Fleet Captain of the River Brigands, demanded.
He took another long pull from his battered tankard, adam’s apple bobbing, then smacked the tankard down on the expensive, exquisitely inlaid table-a piece of Saramanthan work worth more than most men would ever see in a lifetime which had somehow failed to make it across the Lake of Storms to its intended Sothoii purchaser some years earlier. It had been hard used over those years, but its pedigree still showed through all the casual scratches, gouges and chips, like an old and weary soldier not yet ready to quit despite wounds and too many harsh campaigns. A fresh spill of ale dribbled down the tankard’s side to make yet another ring on the tabletop, another stain on the soldier’s shield, and the Fire Oar glowered across it at the man he knew as Talthar.
“ I haven’t seen any evidence the man can find his arse with both hands!” The River Brigand chieftain belched and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So far, Tellian and that bastard Bahnak-oh, and let’s not forget Bahzell — have pinned his ears back every time he’s crossed swords with them. And don’t even get me started on the frigging dwarf!”
Arthnar’s table manners might leave a little to be desired, Varnaythus reflected, and his shaggy mane of oily black hair and the bushy beard that went with it were an accurate hint that he wasn’t the sort of fellow you’d care to invite home as a house guest. Not unless you wanted to see your house burned to the ground, at any rate. But he did have a way of coming straight to the point. Which was probably only to be expected of the man who’d cut his way to the office of Fleet Captain, Fire Oar of the River Brigands, almost twenty years ago…and stayed on the Captain’s Thwart ever since. Becoming Fleet Captain and winning the title of Fire Oar hadn’t necessarily required much in the way of brains-ruthlessness, a ready sword, a naturally devious nature, and the ability to buy support with promises of plunder had been more than enough for that. Staying Fleet Captain, though…that took some doing.
And for all his contempt for Cassan, it’s largely his…understanding with him that’s allowed Arthnar to stay in his position, the wizard reflected. He’s actually managed to convince his council of captains that it makes more sense to charge tolls on traffic crossing the Lake of Storms than it does to raid. Cassan doesn’t care; he simply passes the cost of the toll-it would never do to call it “tribute,” after all-along to his customers and blames it on the Purple Lords and the threat of the River Brigands without ever mentioning that he’s actually paying them off. And Arthnar’s even managed to negotiate a subsidy from the Purple Lords for letting their trade pass unhindered, as well!
Of course, what neither Cassan nor the Purple Lords (nor the majority of Arthnar’s own followers) knew was that a little discreet help from Sharna, the dog brothers, and Carnadosa-in the person of one Master Varnaythus, although Arthnar knew him as Talthar Sheafbearer-had also played their part in the Fleet Captain’s successful longevity. Unfortunately, no one could ever accuse Arthnar of an excess of piety. He was perfectly prepared to work with the Dark Gods, but it was purely business as far as he was concerned, and he’d been more careful than most about staying out of their clutches. He was willing to use them, but he never forgot for one moment that they hadn’t been so happy to help him over the years out of the goodness of their hearts. He was ready enough to help them achieve their goals as long as that helped him achieve his, yet that didn’t mean he was stupid enough to trust them, and he was adamantly opposed to allowing himself to simply be used by them.
But even the wiliest fish ends up in the boat eventually, if the hook’s been properly set, Varnaythus reminded himself. If he has no objection to using Them, then They certainly have no objection to using him. And nothing They’ve said to me suggests They’re especially concerned about whether or not this particular fish survives in the process.
Given the man’s personality, Varnaythus was privately rooting for “not,” although it would never do to suggest anything of the sort to Arthnar, of course.
“I think whether or not you should listen to him depends entirely on how happy you’ll be to see Kilthandahknarthas sailing cheerfully by your ports on the Lake of Storms and Bahnak of Hurgrum and Tellian of Balthar maintaining patrols all the way down the Hangnysti to the lake,” he said after a moment, and shrugged. “Somehow I think Tellian and Kilthan are going to be less than willing to maintain the sort of…relationship you’ve had with Cassan. House Harkanath has hired entire armies in its time to deal with bandits, and I rather doubt Kilthan’s going to regard you and your fellow captains as anything other than bandits who happen to float to work. I suppose you might be able to count on increasing your subsidy from the Purple Lords as long as they think they could use you to bottleneck the Axemen’s trade down the Spear from the lake, but how long will they realistically be able to do that before Bahnak and Tellian burn Krelik and Palan to the ground?”
“They won’t find that so easy as kicking a bunch of ghouls’ arses!” Arthnar snapped, glaring at the wizard, and Varnaythus shrugged again.
“Possibly not, but I don’t think either of them is the sort to be dissuaded just because a task looks a little difficult. Neither one of them would be where they are right now if they thought that way. And with Kilthan and the rest of Silver Cavern ready to cover their expenses and ship all the weapons, armor, and food they need through their brand-new canal, well-”
He shrugged a third time, and Arthnar gritted his teeth. Master Talthar was correct, of course, he thought sulfuriously. He knew exactly how Tellian would react to the sort of arrangement he had with Cassan. The Baron of Balthar, for all the surprising flexibility he’d displayed over the last few years, was a Sothoii of the old school where his personal honor was concerned. And then there was Bahnak, as pragmatic and ruthless a hradani warlord as had ever lived, and one likely to reflect that a single sharp military campaign or two would ultimately cost him far less than years of extorted “tolls.” And none of that even considered Kilthandahknarthas, who was quite probably the most ruthless-not to mention the wealthiest — of the three and, as Talthar had just pointed out, had a short way with bandits. But still…
“From all I’ve heard and all my agents have been able to discover,” he growled after a moment, “they’ve practically finished their damned canal- and their tunnel-already!” He hawked up a gob of phlegm and spat it noisily into the battered spittoon beside his chair, then glowered at his visitor with profound disgust. “So to hear you tell it, no matter how it works out, I’m screwed. That being the case, why should I risk a single pimple on my arse for that idiot Cassan?”
A reasonable question, Varnaythus conceded silently. Not that I have any intention of admitting that to you.
“Because there’s one way you might be able to not simply maintain your current arrangement but make an even better profit off of it,” he said instead.
“Aye?” Arthnar arched a skeptical eyebrow. “And how might that miracle be brought to pass?”
His tone was a bit less abrasive than it had been, and Varnaythus could almost literally see the thoughts working through the brain behind the Fire Oar’s brown eyes. Cassan might go out of his way to avoid any official knowledge of Varnaythus’ true nature, but Arthnar knew perfectly well that “Master Talthar” was a wizard. He probably didn’t know he was a Carnadosan, as well. In fact, Varnaythus had been at some pains to convince him that Talthar was actually a renegade Spearman in the service of the Purple Lords, although he frankly doubted Arthnar would’ve cared a copper kormak even if he’d known “Master Talthar” had been dispatched from Trofrolantha itself. On the other hand, he did know at least a little bit about the…special abilities Master Talthar could bring to the table, since he’d made use of them himself in the past.
“It’s all a question of who controls the new route,” Varnaythus told him now. “I think you’re right; it’s progressed too far for anyone to stop it now. And I don’t think my…employers to the south, shall we say, are going to be happy about that.” He held out his right hand above the table, palm down, and waggled it from side to side. “In fact, I think they’re going to be very un happy, but I believe I’d be able to endure their sorrow if it happened I’d been able to make even better arrangements for myself somewhere else.” He smiled at Arthnar. “And by the strangest coincidence, I believe I may have found a way to do just that.”
“Have you now?” Arthnar sat back, running the fingers of his right hand through his beard and considering his guest speculatively.
