The Ring of Winter - James Lowder [32]
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Marpenoth 5, Year of the Prince
Today Kaverin Ebonhand of Tantras was found guilty of ordering the murder of Rallo Scarson, a Harper who dared threaten his network of evil agents. I don't feel any relief at the verdict or overwhelming pride in the Lord's Court here in Ravens Bluff. It was the evidence I gathered with Pontifax's help that proved Kaverin was guilty beyond any reasonable doubt; given that evidence, any sane man would have found for the prosecution.
The Harpers will be pleased I've made Kaverin pay for the death of Rallo, even if I no longer consider myself one of their ranks. Theron Silvermace spent the whole trial watching me. I'm certain he was taking notes, gathering proof that I am still worthy of the little silver harp-and-moon pin. It's been two years since I stormed out of the meeting in Shadowdale, and still the Harpers haven't tried to take the pin back. I wonder why.
Anyway, Pontifax and I have finally brought Kaverin to justice. As usual, though, he has turned even his punishment to his advantage.
Since his henchman had been put to death for actually murdering Rallo, the court could not impose the same fate upon Kaverin for the same crime. (Like many of the city-states along the Dragon Reach, Ravens Bluff has a pretty skewed idea of justice.) They decided instead to chop off his hands. How civilized. And when they did, just an hour ago, Kaverin laughed. His hands were lying in the dirt, bloody and twitching, and he laughed.
Pontifax was right-the man is insane.
Before the clerics appointed by the court to heal up Kaverin's wrists could do their duty, the mage who had been serving as his lawyer throughout the trial muscled past. In his hands, he held two blobs of black stone. When the mage touched these to Kaverin's gory wrists, they transformed. Still chuckling madly, Kaverin held his new jet-black hands up for all to see.
Before he walked away-he was free now that the punishment had been exacted upon him-Kaverin pointed one stony finger at Pontifax and me. Not very subtle, but we got the threat quite clearly. He blames us for his conviction. Rightly so, too.
Sooner or later, we're going to hear from Kaverin Ebonhand again. If we do, I'll make sure no mage in the world will be able to save him.
Five
Port Castigliar was a sorry excuse for an outpost. It consisted of seven tin huts, two small plots of vegetables, a large but ramshackle supply depot, and a graveyard. The latter was more densely populated than the land for five miles in any direction.
As Artus and Pontifax stood on the narrow stretch of beach, watching the ship's boat from the Narwhal unload its cargo of food, cookware, knives, and weapons, they could not help but wonder if they'd come to the right place. "Are you certain this is where Theron said we should land?" Pontifax asked, wiping his rain-soaked hair out of his eyes.
Artus scowled. "I have the map right here," he said, then patted his pack. "My journal may have been stolen, but I was smart enough to keep the map with me at all times."
Pontifax stared uneasily at the Narwhal. The galleon waited impatiently in the deep waters off Port Castigliar, anxious to move on to more substantial stops in Refuge Bay. The lowering sky was dark and threatening, promising worse than the downpour already underway. "Quiracus might have disembarked before we got to the deck this morning," the mage offered absently.
Artus grunted. The crew had half-heartedly searched for Master Quiracus. Not only was the elven first mate wanted for questioning concerning his attack of Artus, but he was next in line to take command of the Narwhal. When no sign of him had been uncovered, it was decided he had fallen overboard in the battle with the dragon-turtle-decided, that is, by the newly risen Captain Nelock. Actually, Nelock had made it quite clear he hoped Quiracus never surfaced, and he did all he could to keep the hunt subdued. Even if he had found the elf hiding somewhere aboard ship, Nelock would have offered him