Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [34]
Mina picked up the helm, examined it curiously. The horns of the ram curled back from the hideous ram’s skull that formed the visor. Each knight was free to choose his own symbol to use in the design of his armor. Mina found it intriguing that Krell had chosen a ram. He must have felt the need to prove something. She lifted the heavy helm and thrust it awkwardly under her arm. The tips of the horns and the jagged steel edges pricked her flesh uncomfortably.
“Anything else?” Zeboim asked caustically. “Perhaps you’d like one of his boots as a souvenir?”
“I thank you, Lady,” said Mina, pretending not to notice the sarcasm. She made a bow. “I revere you and honor you.”
Zeboim snorted. Tossing her head, she regarded Mina from slit eyes. “There is something else you want, I’ll be bound.”
Mina sensed a trap. She cast about in her mind, wondering what Zeboim was after.
“Safe passage off this blasted rock?” the goddess suggested.
Mina bit her lip. Perhaps she had gone too far. The goddess of the waves could very easily drown her.
“Yes, Majesty,” she replied in her most humble tones. “Though perhaps that is more than I deserve.”
“Save your groveling for someone who appreciates it,” Zeboim snapped pettishly. “I begin to regret granting you my favor. I think I shall miss tormenting Krell.”
“You granted me no favors, Lady,” Mina said to herself, not aloud. She waited tensely to hear the goddess’s verdict. Not even Chemosh could protect her once she set sail upon the sea that was Zeboim’s province.
The goddess cast Mina and the helm one final, disdainful, sneering glance. Then she turned on her heel, leaving the library. The wind of her anger howled and tore at Mina, buffeted her with bruising force, striking at her until she dropped to her knees to avoid the blows. She crouched on the floor, her head bowed, as the wind blasted her, clutching the helm in her arms.
And then all went calm. The wind gave a final, irritated hiss, and then fell to nothing.
Mina sighed deeply. This was the goddess’s answer, or at least so she hoped. She stood up too fast and staggered, almost falling again. The encounters with the death knight and the goddess had drained both her body and her spirit. She was parched with thirst, and though there was rainwater aplenty standing in puddles that were almost as deep and wide as ponds, the water had an oily look to it and smelled of blood. She would not have drunk it for all the strands of pearls in the world. And she had yet to return to the Black Stairs, climb down those broken, slippery steps to where her little boat waited, then make the journey across the sea—the heaving bosom of an angry goddess.
She started to walk wearily toward the door. At least the storm had abated. The rain now fell in a muttering drizzle. The wind was calm, though now it whipped up and then in vicious little gusts.
“You have done well, Mina,” said Chemosh. “I am pleased.”
Mina lifted her head, looked around, hoping that the god was here on Storm’s Keep with her. He was nowhere in sight and she realized immediately that she’d been silly to think he might have come. Zeboim would still be watching her and his presence would have given all away.
“I am glad to have pleased you, my lord,” said Mina softly, warm with the glow of his praise.
“Zeboim will keep her promise and calm the seas for you. She admires you. She still has hopes of winning you over.”
“Never, my lord,” said Mina firmly.
“I know that, but she does not; therefore, do not tempt her patience long. You have Krell’s helm?”
“Yes, Lord. I have it with me, as you ordered.”
“Keep it safe.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“God speed you to my arms, Mina,” said Chemosh.
She felt a touch upon her cheek—his kiss brushed against her skin. Mina pressed her hand to her cheek, closed her eyes, and reveled in the warmth. When she opened her eyes, she had renewed strength, as if she had both eaten and drunk.
Mindful of the helm, she stripped a ragged cloak from one of the many corpses that littered the room and bound the cloak