procurator you won t see that gold, I m afraid. You wouldn t even see it if you dragged Lord Kendrick s worthless carcass back to Alaron. But I will make you rich men.
She blinked, and a tear formed in the long lashes at the corner of her eye. She raised her hand to touch it, pull it away, roll it between her fingers, a jewel now, or something close to it, a sapphire or a piece of crystal. She laughed, flicked it away. And not just men, she continued. Please, introduce me to your company.
The prison walls rose above them, three stories high. In the late afternoon, the flagged courtyard was full of shadows. She stepped away, then moved around the semicircle as Lukas named each member of the crew. What kind of creature do you call yourself? she said to Gaspar-shen. You must forgive me. I do not travel much. This is the farthest I have been from Karador in many years.
The genasi small for his race, blue-skinned, almost naked stood with his legs spread. What kind of creature? repeated the queen. Her gaze flicked briefly down his body to his eel-skin breeches. And you, a human woman, she said, moving to Marikke. Priestess of Chauntea you don t find it difficult, to share your quarters with so many males? She laughed, curtseyed sardonically, drunkenly, and then continued on to Kip, the cat-shifter. Boy, I hate your kind.
She made as if to turn away, but then turned back. Her beautiful face took on a hard, penetrating look. Touch me, she commanded, and Kip, hesitantly, as if against his will, brushed his hand against her outstretched fingers. She gave an exaggerated shudder, then smiled. I hate you, she repeated.
But not as much as I hate traitors. She stared long and hard first at the elf, then the gnome.
Suka yawned, once more showing them the stud in her long tongue.
Thank you, said the queen. That s quite enough. More than enough. Three hundred thalers each, she said, mentioning the Amnian gold coins now current throughout the islands. Three hundred more on your return. When you bring me what I want.
She paused, then continued: Captain, come with me. You and one other you, she said, pointing at Suka.
The rest, wait for us beside the dock. You understand, I need some security. Someone to guarantee you won t just sail away with my gold.
She gave the genasi a final appraising glance then turned away under an arched doorway. Lukas nodded, and the company drew back, except for Suka, who peered up at him. Your choice, he said.
She shrugged as if to say there was no choice. The two of them followed the queen through the archway at the top of a flight of stairs, lit from below. Under the level of the port, the walls sweated and stank.
And there were men here too, the first Lukas had seen, sallow Ffolk on unknown errands dressed in urine- colored rags, who sank to their knees as the queen passed. Behold the Claw, she said. The Winterglen Claw. Rebels. Warriors. Perhaps we should be quaking in our shoes.
She was barefoot. Her high-arched soles left prints on the damp stones, as if she dried them just by touching them. The Ffolk squeezed their eyes shut and pressed their fists against their mouths. Doubtless they will kill us in our beds, she murmured.
Two levels down, the stairs debouched onto a wide, low-ceilinged gallery, stinking of offal and slime, lit with torches. She paused.
Captain, let me tell you a story.
Again she came to stand in front of him, her lips close to his own, her cool breath on his face. Ten years ago, I had a sister, who was taken from me. A half sister. My mother s daughter, not my father s. She was younger. Much, much younger even than my own son.
You know, she said, that things are different for us. You humans can have many children in your tiny lives. An eladrin woman one, perhaps two pregnancies, each one lasting several years. We give birth in pain, you understand. We live a long time, and because of it, it is the youngest who inherits. Always the youngest. My sister was nine years old when she disappeared.
Where did she go?
The queen shrugged. It was a mystery. A traitor stole her from her bedchamber in the high citadel. Suborned six members of my dragonborn guards. They took her to Crane Point on the lake, that much is known. There was a plot to kidnap her and take her to the castle of the Daressins on Snowdown she did not arrive. Though we do not visit these places, still we have eyes and ears. A hippogriff snatched her from the lakeshore we saw it. After that, nothing. Except a rider washed up on the west coast not far from here, at the entrance of the firth. A rider s corpse, burned from the fire. This was ten years ago.
Maybe she drowned, Lukas said. I m sorry.
Are you? But you re not listening. Snowdown is to the east.
She turned abruptly, and he and the gnome had to hurry to catch up. Let me show you something.
At the back of the gallery was a spiral stair, its stone steps slippery, choked with filth. Barefoot, the queen climbed down it, unconcerned. The room below was lit with a charcoal brazier, and the air was foul. Three large prison cells, lined with iron bars, stood in a row.
The queen smiled. There, you see? she said to Suka, indicating the left-hand cell. One of your ancient masters from the Underdark. In fact much of the cell s space was occupied by a single bloated body, a purplish- gray, yellow-haired, hump-backed giantess with an iron mask locked over her head and half her face, to occlude her evil eye. She stank.
The middle cell stood open. Please, my dear, indicated the queen. Suka stepped over to it and peered in.
On the inside the cells were separated from each other, again, with rows of iron bars. Do you like it? asked the queen. It won t be for long. Or that depends on Captain Lukas, I suppose.
Inquisitive as a mouse, Suka darted inside and made a circuit of the bars. Inside the left-hand cell, the fomorian turned her heavy head, and Suka wrinkled up her nose, then caressed the ring in her left nostril, as if by doing so she could affect the smell.
Of course no weapons, said the queen. And captain, a sense of urgency. Every five days we will remove one of the bars between her and that. She nodded toward the giant.
And perhaps one along the other side.
A jailer waddled forward out of the shadows, a fat, flabby, bearded man with a ring of keys. Lukas nodded, and the gnome unstrapped her crossbow, unbuckled her short sword. What will you feed her? he asked.
The queen laughed. Oh, chicken and wine. Snails in honey sauce. She s not a prisoner, after all. Rather a pledge, until you bring back what I m asking you.
Which is?
For an answer, she waved her hand to the last cage. In the dim light Lukas could see a figure huddled up against the back of the wall. The queen snapped her fingers, and the jailer held out a glass ball, oval in shape, which she grasped in her left hand. Soon, a milky light spread from her fist, the rays jutting out between her fingers.
Look, she said.
She thrust her hand between the bars. In the new light Lukas saw a naked creature lying motionless on its side. Its eyes were closed.
Its form was roughly that of a human woman, with big shoulders and hips, fat breasts and a wide belly. She was covered in hair, thin and pale along her front, thicker and darker on her back, rising to a ridge along her spine. She had only two fingers on each hand and foot, thick, fleshy fingers over a wad of callous, fingers that were sharp and heavy, narrowing to curved, wicked points.
The queen shifted her hand, and a single beam of light touched the animal, caressing her long jaw, showing the curved horns at the corners of her mouth, the predatory teeth, the small eyes, the wide, distorted nose with its upturned nostrils. Look, repeated the queen. She let the beam play along the creature s sinewy arm, and then she showed a bald place at her waist where the hair was thin or else shaved away, revealing a pattern that was artificial and deliberate, a tattoo of a climbing rose, a yellow rose etched in black and silver.
The Rose of Sarifal, murmured Lukas.
It was the royal symbol of the leShays. Do you think? If that were true, then I would wait, said Lady Ordalf, and with her right hand she pulled her black hair away from her neck, while with her right hand she turned the light, so he could see the elegant tattoo below her ear, this one tinted pink. My mother had a white rose inked on her backside because she was a whore, and died a whore s death. Yellow was my sister s color. But what is it doing here? Does this mean my sister?
