Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [74]
Nightshade came over to join them, trailing paint spatters all along the floor.
“I saw ten yesterday,” he reported. “Down by the docks and up in the city.”
“Ten!” Galena was horrified. “This is appalling.”
“Lleu is supposed to meet this young woman tonight at her house. We can capture him when he arrives.”
“Are you certain he is one of the Beloved?” Patrick asked, regarding Rhys intently. “Forgive me for questioning you, Brother, but our fear is the innocent may suffer along with the guilty.”
“Lleu is—or was—my brother,” Rhys replied. “He murdered our parents and the brethren of my Order. He tried to murder me.”
Patrick’s expression softened. He looked at Rhys as if much made sense to him now. “I am truly sorry, Brother. Where does this young woman live?”
“Not far,” said Rhys. He shook his head. “I can’t describe to you the exact location. Her dwelling is one of many on the street, and they all look alike. It will be easier for me to take you there. You should summon the city guard.”
“We will be ready, Brother.”
“I will return at nightfall,” said Rhys. Taking hold of his staff, he rose to his feet. “Thank you for the meal.”
“There is no need to leave, Brother. You should stay and rest. You look worn out.”
“I wish I could,” said Rhys, and he was in earnest. The peace of this quiet place was soothing balm to his tormented soul. “But I have to meet again with the ship’s captain, try once more to persuade him to take us on as passengers.”
“He thinks kender are unlucky,” said Nightshade cheerfully. “I told him I could make the voyage really interesting. I saw the souls of quite a few dead sailors roaming about the ship, and I told him they all wanted to talk to him. He didn’t seem to like to hear that, though. He got really mad, especially when I mentioned the mutiny and the fact he’d had them all strung up from the yardarms. I think they still have hard feelings.”
Rhys looked at Patrick and coughed. “I don’t suppose you could continue to keep the kender—”
“Of course. He’s been quite a help today.”
“He can whitewash the floor as well as the walls,” added Galena, with a glance at the trail of white spatters.
Rhys whistled to Atta, who left her bone with regret.
“I’ll keep it for her,” Galena offered. She picked up the bone and placed it on a shelf. Atta kept her jealous gaze on it every inch of the way.
“Brother,” said Patrick, accompanying Rhys to the door, “you might think about enlisting the aid of Zeboim’s cleric. He’s a powerful force with these ships’ captains. They’d be willing to listen to him, and he’d be more than willing to listen to you.”
“A good idea, Revered Son,” Rhys said quietly. “Thank you.”
“We will keep you in our prayers, Brother,” Patrick added as Rhys and Atta took their leave.
“Pray for that young woman,” Rhys said. “Your prayers will be better spent.”
Patrick stood in the doorway watching Rhys walk off down the street. The monk’s staff thumped the cobblestones. The black and white dog padded along at his side.
Thoughtful, Patrick turned away.
“Where are you going, my dear?” Galena asked.
“To have a word with Mishakal,” he replied.
“About that young woman?”
“You and I can take care of her.” Patrick glanced back out the window to see Rhys and Atta vanish around the corner. “This problem is one only the goddess can handle.”
“And what is that?” asked his wife.
“A lost soul,” said Patrick.
hys seriously considered Patrick’s advice regarding Zeboim’s priest. He chose, finally, to go to the ship’s captain alone. Rhys did not like the idea of being any more beholden to the goddess than he already was—or rather, than she thought he was. Truth be told, he’d done far more for her than she’d done for him.
He was kept waiting for hours, for the captain with a vessel making ready to sail is a busy man and has no time to talk to potential passengers, especially those who can’t pay their way. Noontime came and went and finally, late in the day, the captain told Rhys he could spare him a few moments.
Rhys