Sword of the Gods - Bruce R. Cordell [69]
Riltana said, “I don’t.”
“That can’t be healthy. Are you sick? And, it’s so good!”
The woman sighed. She said, “I don’t like to preach about my habits. But since you asked, I don’t eat the flesh of beasts because they are living beings just like you and me. They have sorrows, joys, and pangs of loss every bit as strong as we do. To me, it’s like cannibalism, and should be avoided.”
Chant shook his head and said, “But it’s the way of things; the wolf eats the rabbit, and we eat the wolf.”
“Oh, for the love of Karshimis—We have a choice; the wolf doesn’t. Except sometimes, the wolf does have a choice. I’ve heard tell of too many talking magical beasts to feel comfortable about biting into a beef sandwich. For all I know, it might be minotaur.”
The human opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“Smoked fish—maybe it’s mermaid, or sea elf,” she said. “I don’t want to accidentally eat some sea elf’s child caught in a fishing net, you know?”
Chant stared at the thief a little longer, then just shook his head.
Demascus ate more cheese.
Chewing, he watched Carmenere and Riltana. The thief remained on edge, but wasn’t as apprehensive as the previous night. For the moment, anyway, the two seemed as if they’d mended their fences.
“So,” said Chant, finally pushing away his platter, “are we ready to go?”
Carmenere drew in a breath, and expelled it. “Yes. I have arranged for a meeting, and a conveyance with a diplomatic flag. Better that we arrive with the seeming of importance. That way we can ignore a lot of bureaucratic nonsense.”
The pawnbroker popped a piece of bread into his mouth and nodded. He mumbled around the half-chewed food, “Thank you again for helping.”
Carmenere let a violet plum roll back and forth across her palm as she said, “As a silverstar of Selûne, could I do less?”
“She’s always going out of her way to help people,” said Riltana, smiling.
Carmenere said, “Even when people repay my friendship with …” Carmenere looked down at the table, her face twisted.
Riltana’s smile froze, then she slumped slightly, like a wax candle left in the window too long.
Demascus coughed. So much for mended fences. An uncomfortable tension descended over the room.
That wouldn’t do. Into the silence he ventured, “Carmenere, tell me about your link to Selûne. How closely do you serve the Moonmaiden? Does she ever talk to you?”
Carmenere slowly looked up, and she nodded. Her features untwisted, and she said, “That’d be incredible and wonderful. But no. I do her bidding without that grace. I walk where the moonlight leads, like all silverstars. Stories tell of such things; gods and mortals speaking and interacting, but I doubt it actually happens often. The gods have many cares across this world, and others.”
Demascus managed to nod, though his mind’s eye flashed back to his visit with an avatar of Oghma, when he’d accepting a tiny charm from the avatar’s hand.
Except he didn’t have that scroll-shaped charm any longer, or any of the charms his fragmented memory hinted at. He only had imperfect recollections and the claim of a cryptic piece of fabric that seemed best suited to strangling people.
He said, “If your god never interacts with you, how can you be sure that what you do is right?”
Carmenere said, “How can it not be? Selûne’s power fills me when I ask her for strength. My prayers are answered in the form of divine magic. If she were displeased with me, my ability to heal and render aid would almost certainly fail.”
You’d be surprised, he wanted to say. He recalled again the avatar’s commission to deal with Undryl Yannathar. The avatar had told him, “That which I am but the smallest part of cannot touch Undryl, for he believes he does right.” Whoever this Undryl had been, he had apparently believed he was serving Oghma’s interests, and had apparently never lost whatever power he wielded in the name of the Binder.
Bells chimed at the front of the house.
“The coach is here,” said Carmenere. “It’s time to go meet the queen.”
CHAPTER