Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [101]
He laid his finger on her lips. “Not a word, Mina. Not yet. We do not know who may be listening.”
“May I ask where this treasure lies, my lord?”
He took her in his arms, folded her in his embrace, and said softly, “The Blood Sea. That is where we will go, you and I, once certain prying eyes are closed and pricking ears shut.”
ord Ausric Krell loathed Storm’s Keep. He had been elated to be free of the place, had sworn he would never more set foot upon it, unless it be to demolish it, yet when he found himself standing once more upon the wind and wave-swept stones of the courtyard, he felt true pleasure. He had left a prisoner, sneaking out in ignominy, and now he was lord and master.
He laughed out loud to hear the puny plashing waves breaking on the rocks. Leaning over the edge of the cliff, he made a rude gesture at the sea, shouted out an obscenity. He laughed again and strode with brisk steps back across the courtyard, heading for the Tower of Lilies and the library. Zeboim would soon realize he had returned and he had to have everything in readiness.
Zeboim was in the Blood Sea, assisting her father, Sargonnas, when she heard Krell’s curse. The minotaur were launching a grand expeditionary force to firmly clinch their hold on Silvanesti. A fleet of ships—battle ships, supply ships, troop transports and ships filled with immigrants—were leaving the minotaur isles, setting sail for Ansalon.
This was Sargonnas’s moment of supreme triumph and he wanted nothing to mar it. He asked his daughter for calm seas and favorable winds and Zeboim, having nothing better to do, agreed to grant his request. In return, the minotaur gave her lavish gifts and fought games in her honor in their Circus.
Blood spilt in her name. Bracelets of gold and earrings of silver decking her altars. How could a goddess refuse?
Sails billowed. The winds capped the blue sea with white froth that bubbled and broke beneath the leaping bows of the minotaur vessels. The minotaur sailors sang songs and danced on the rolling decks. Zeboim danced with them upon the sparkling water.
And then came Krell’s voice rolling across the world.
He cursed her name. He cursed her wind and water. He cursed her, and then he laughed.
Turning her far-seeing eyes his direction, Zeboim saw Krell standing on a cliff atop Storm’s Keep.
The goddess did not stop to think. She did not ask herself how he came to be there or why he felt so bold as to be able to challenge her. Swift as raging flood waters sweeping down out of the mountains, Zeboim swept through the heavens and broke upon Storm’s Keep in a torrent of fury that lashed the seas and caused them to rise up and crash over the cliffs.
Zeboim sensed Krell’s foul presence in the Tower of Lilies. She smote the heavy door that led to the Tower, splintered it, and with a wave of her hand, sent the wreckage flying to the four corners of the compass. She blew through the chill stone corridors, so that they were awash in sea water, to find Krell sitting at his ease in a chair in the library.
The goddess was always too impatient to be observant of details, which were meaningless to her anyway. Zeboim saw nothing except the death knight. She was suddenly, dangerously calm, as the seas before the hurricane, when, the sailors say, the wind “eats” the waves.
“So, Krell,” said Zeboim, soft and menacing, “Chemosh has tired of you at last and thrown you back upon the refuse heap.”
“Really, now, Madame,” said Krell, leaning back comfortably in his chair and crossing his legs. “You should not speak of this fine fortress that you yourself built for your beloved son—the late and most lamented Lord Ariakan—as a refuse heap.”
Zeboim crossed the room in a bound. Lightning flared in the skies, and thunder cracked. The air sizzled with her anger. She loomed over him, roaring and sparking.
“How dare you sully his name by speaking it! The last time you did that, I cut out your tongue with my knife and watched you choke on your own blood. I will give you back your tongue, just so I have the