Stormfyre Chapter Twenty Four

            "Where is Cameron?" Benmont growled at a sailor as he stood on deck, watching them cast off, raising the anchor, "What was the garrison doing over there?" he pointed a finger to the eastern docks where another vessel had just left the port, burning and trailing smoke in its wake.

            "Don't know," the sailor replied coolly, "Don't care neither. Long as the garrison leaves us be. Now go to your cabin, sir. I got things to do, yeah?"

            "You don't understand," Benmont shot back angrily, "There were four other people with us, booked for passage on this ship. We were heading to Diez together! Name of the One! This wasn't even my idea!"

            "For Diez, you say?" came a light feminine voice from behind him. Benmont spun around to see a young woman with dark colored hair framing a pretty face. She had a yellow dress on that was buttoned all the way to her neck, with a skirt that flowed low, to her ankles. The laced trim swept the deck. Benmont lowered his brow. He knew this girl from somewhere.

            "You are Benmont Grimnight, right?" the girl asked, making him start.

            "I am."

            "Of course!" she clapped her hands together with a squeel, "You are Kamil Dravan's brother! Or half brother, as it might stand."

            Then it came to him. Her name was Diela Shar. She had been staying in Cromley Tower while they were, visiting from the north lands. Imediatly Benmont spun this way and that, thinking that the Baron was going to come out of nowhere like some ghost out of a fairy tale and strike him down. Why not? His mother spoke with him.

            "How did you get here, Diela?"

            "Oh! You remember me, too!" she grinned prettily at him. Benmont held in a growl.

            "How did you come here, Diela?"

            "Cromley Tower was sieged and..."

            "I know it was sieged. How did you escape it?"

            "Oh, you knew? Well then, I came here because the general of the Dagothian army released me to my homeland. That happens to be Diez. What a coincidence that you would be heading there as well, Benmont! Is Kamil with you?"

            "The general released you? What was his name?"

            "Oh...I think his name was Emeron Jaist. Yes that was it," she raised her eyebrows to him with an exhasperated look, "Could you tell me if Kamil..."

            "No, Diela. He is not on board. He is gone with Cameron and the father some place that may or may not be Diez. From the direction that burning ship was heading, I'm not thinking that they are heading there any longer. But it seems that I have no choice but to head there." Benmont glowered, feeling trapped. He cursed his position. How was he ever going to avenge his mother if he kept being waylayed as he was?

            "A burning ship?" Diela Shar repeated, trying to brighten when she heard that Kamil was not on board, "That sounds quite exciting. You will have to tell me about it. I mean, we are going to be travelling together for some time, yes?"

            "I suppose," Benmont agreed, resigning himself to the boat ride. Nothing had been simple ever since he came home that fated evening to find his mother had been killed by assasins. Only months, and barely that.

            "Diela, did Tandy come with you? I imagine that everone would want to be away if this general is allowing them all to go."

            "I'm sorry, Benmont. Tandy was killed in the tower," Diela became meek, averting her eyes as tears glistened against her lashes, "It happened when a Dagothian squad of soldiers was founf inside the tower. That is what I hear."

            Benmont gripped the rail of the vessel until he thought it might break. He checked his tears. He would not weep. Not anymore, "Then it is another death that my dear father has to atone for. And I intend to make him do just that. I swear it."

            "Benmont?" Diela sounded a touch alarmed. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off, "I am sorry that you had to hear it like that. I was just...a little grieved as well. And grateful that I'm still alive and going home. What does that make me?"

            "Human," Benmont retorted sharply, and heard her breath catch. He knew his tone had been too acid but he couldn't help it. Did the fool woman think that she was the only person in the world that had problems? At least she had a home to go to. Still, he knew that he should apologize. His mother raised him better than that.

            "Diela, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you but I..."

            "Miss Diela Shar to you, Sir Grimnight," she told him coldly, "and I apologize for being such a bother to you, as it seems that I have been. I will be sure to stay out of your way on this voyage. Farewell, then." Without another word she hiked up her skirts a bit and glided along the walk until she vanished down a flight of stairs that led her to the floors below deck.

            "Great," Benmont muttered, turning to go the other direction. The sailor still stood there, obviously having listened to the entire conversation. The older man gave Benmont a disapproving look and shook his head. Snorting, Benmont stalked past the man, nearly spilling him into the ocean. He would be damned if strangers were going to judge him now. Still feeling the heat of anger in his gut, Benmont resigned to find his cabin. It would be weeks of travel on the ocean before they reached the port of Diez. It was going to be a long month.

            Late that evening, after most of the guests on board the large sailing vessel had gone to their cabins for the night or made their way for the galley, Benmont went on deck, making his way to the prow, staring off it into the almost black waters that churned and broke against the front of the vessel. He found sleep eluding him, worry for his companions gnawing at him like some small rodent that found its way into his belly. Cursing himself, Benmont leaned on the rail, tugging at the cuffs of his shirt, when he heard the ship's plankings groan behind him. Spinning, arms waving to his sides, he caught sight of a tall, broad shadow on the side of the captain’s cabin near the middle of the ship.

            "Verion."

            "Benmont Grimnight, you seem to spend much time pondering things that worry cannot change. What is, is. I think you would be better served thinking of what may lay in wait when this ship reaches the city of Diez. Is that not a much sounder idea then lacking in sleep?"

            "Go away, Verion. I didn't ask you to council me. You sound like the father," Benmont replied sharply. He turned back from where the centiant stood, rubbing his arms briskly. He still felt the sting that the centiant had given him at Drawn Faleem's orders. He didn't care if the man couldn't disobey; it didn't change the pain that he had inflicted on his person.

            "You didn't ask for council," Verion conceded, stepping closer to the rail where Benmont looked over the ocean, "But I am giving it to you." The centiant paused, scenting at the air like an animal. He raised a quizzical eyebrow in Benmont's direction, "It would seem that Kamil Dravan is not the only man who is visited by the dead."

            "What did you say?" Benmont felt his throat constrict even as he spoke. A dizzy spell almost claimed him. It was impossible for Verion to know that his mother had come to him, spoke to him much like Verion was now, only that she had been dead for weeks, killed by assassins.

            "What did you just say, Verion?"

            "I will never understand you humans," Verion stated calmly, "I tell Kamil Dravan that I know the dead were near him and he stares death at me, the ungrateful whelp. I tell you, Benmont Grimnight, and it seems that you might just explode. Truly bizarre."

            "Don't play games, Verion!" Benmont shouted, shaking a large fist in his direction, "How do you know that? Did you...did you see my mother?"

            "No," Verion replied, "But I can tell you that it is not malevolent, this spirit. Not at all like the spirit that comes to Kamil Dravan. It reeks with the blood of others, and of great age. That is all I can tell you."

            "How do you know?" Benmont asked more quietly, feeling that he must be going mad, "How could you if you haven't seen her?"

            "The scent is strong on you, as it was on your brother. He should make the evil spirit flee. He can, if he truly wishes to. I am sorry to hear of your mother, Benmont Grimnight. She has risen to the sun, now."

            "Thank you, Verion," Benmont told him, not sure what the man had just said to him, but taking it for a condolence, "But I would rather that I was alone for the night. There are things on my mind that I want to think about."

            "Of course," Verion nodded, "But consider what I have said. I do not impart my knowledge this freely always, Benmont Grimnight. You could do much worse than to listen to what I have to say to you." The centiant was about to leave when he turned back to Benmont, producing a long, thick handled stick from his side, nearly six feet in length. Stretching out a muscular arm, Verion extended the wooden shaft to Benmont. The big youth snatched up the stick, looking at it curiously, casting that same curious expression to the centiant.

            "It is a quarter staff, Benmont Grimnight. It is the preferred weapon of my people, the centiant. I would teach you how to fight with this weapon, as it would serve your size well, and I have seen you fight with a sword," That last part was given with a touch of a smile curving Verion's lips, making him look rather smug in the touch of starlight that dotted the deck of the ship.

            "Uh, thanks," Benmont replied, thinking that he had just been insulted but not quite fast enough to realize how. Verion made a cordial bow, leaving Benmont standing at the prow on his own again, turning the quarter staff over and over in his hands. He wondered where Verion got this from. And it occurred to him that the centiant never did answer his question about how he knew of his dead mother. So she was real, and now he might just have to admit it to himself. The One help him.

            Ferrin woke in his cramped cabin to the smell of vomit still stinking up the air. He had wretched in his chamber pot twice the night before. Dribbles of it still clung to his chin and down the front of his shirt, unlaced up the front to allow him to breathe better. His skin had taken on a greenish taint to it and every time the ship moved some way he didn't like, which was every four or so seconds, he thought that he might vomit again. Only from exhaustion brought about by retching and heaving did sleep finally find him. But even in his sleep he was tortured, dreaming of swells that were taller than building coming down on him, drowning him, letting break the surface of the ocean only long enough to let another of the gargantuan swells drag him back under.

            Swinging his hairy feet over the side of the cot that he was laying on, Ferrin belched once before standing. He placed a shaky hand on the wall of his cabin for support before trying to fit his feet into the boots that lay in disarray with the rest of his belongings. The youth had taken it in good graces when he discovered that the good father and Cameron went out on another vessel. He gathered that they had little choice and wasn't going to pout about it like some of his companions had opted to do. If they could make their way to Diez, then they would. Ferrin knew they would. If not, then he would take it upon himself to find them. That was all there was to it. But in the meantime, he thought he might want to find another chamber pot. One emptier, at least, because he wasn't through with his retching. A twisting snake in his belly told him that much.

            Ferrin found his way down the hall, taking the stairs with a hand on the wooden rail that ran the length of it, until he was standing at the back of the deck, watching rolling blue ocean span out behind the vessel. The rocking became more pronounced, taking the ship in a back and forth gesture that made Ferrin want to just lie down and shrink up right then and there. Why did the good father have to choose to travel on a sailing ship? And then have the nerve to take another one!

            One glance over the rail displayed a rocky, windswept shore stretching for as far as he could see, a line of twisting evergreens growing in knots along the high banks. Heavy grey rocks jutted out in points from the ocean's end, white water slapping over them, darkening them with the constant waves. Ferrin guessed that they hadn't even made proper time, seeing as they had yet to pass the harbor of Cantam. He suddenly entertained thoughts of stealing off the vessel when it docked for Cantam. Rumors abound told him that the villages east of the Torvana Mountains were ripe for plucking with the Eastern Alliance scattered all over the country in one battle or another. It would be child's play for a thief of any skill to pilfer riches and walk away a wealthy man.

            "Ferrin, you are not looking well today."

            Ferrin spun on his heel, hand clutching for his dagger reflexively. Verion stood near the stern, arms folded over a broad, bare chest that was dark and glistening with sweat. The centiant wore only a loose fitting pair of breeches that stopped shy of his ankles. It was shock white against his darker flesh. The centiant smiled at him.

            I've never taken well with sailing. I just want to find another chamber pot so I can lie in my room until I die or until we reach or destination. Is that too much to ask?

            "I can make you feel better, child," Verion told him, "And I did give word that when we had the time for such, I would tell you of myself, and of you. I know of your hidden talents, Ferrin. I know that you could sense mine plain as the daylight. You are drudic; a race close to my own, as it has been since time began. We cannot speak at night, however. I have agreed to teach your companion Benmont Grimnight how to fight properly with a weapon."

            What is a drudic? Ferrin signed, a touch of awe in his eyes. For the moment the youth had completely forgotten about his sea sickness. Verion placed an arm around him, cupping Ferrin's shoulder, and led him to the prow, sitting him on a small workbench that was part of the captain's cabin wall. Verion leaned back against the rail, arms folding once more. Verion's smile infected Ferrin, causing him to take it up as well.

            "Drudic are a men and women who possess traits that only animals would have. They are close to the land, having chosen to shun the world that humans have created for themselves, and I believe that their solitude gave them this strength. There are many tribes of drudic. I have watched you, and I believe that you are originally from the Casaama Tribe, or the tribe of the ferret, as humans would name it. There are others, of course. More then you could know. The Vladic Tribe portrays the skills of the leopard, while the Jaundra Tribe holds the skill of the bear. They use that skill as a weapon, making them something of outlanders in the eyes of other drudic."

            Hold right there, Verion, Ferrin signed hastily, trying not to reel from what the centiant was telling him. Tribe of the ferret? He was good at skulking in the dark corners. Shaking his head clear he signed, If you say that I am drudic, then tell me how I came here, to the land of humans. Where are my parents? For that matter, where is this Casaama Tribe? Shouldn't they have taken care of me in my parent's absence?

            "You are right, Ferrin. The tribe should have raised you no matter what may have come of your parents. I do not know that answer, I am sorry to say. I only knew you for what you were when I first laid eyes on you in Cromley Tower. These are questions that you might ask the Council of Stone, or of your own people."

            Council of Stone? What in the world is that?

            "The greatest of my race, the centiant, formed the council when it was becoming clear that the humans would drive us off of Umbriel in their race for new land and raw metals. The Council of Stone was comprised of our tacticians, our warriors, what few there were, and of our greatest thinkers. The council has endured the last millennia out of respect for those that formed it in times of crisis." Verion seemed to ponder the last bit of information that he gave out, and then turned his attention back to Ferrin, "I think that you would be better served asking this of your own people. They must know the fate of your family. If no one else does, then they must know this. That is why when this is over, when the priest has no further use for you, I will take you north, through the land of the ageless, so that you might learn all that you need to know."

            Ferrin had so many questions to ask that he didn't know where to start. Verion had told him more in a matter of minutes about him then he had been able to find out in nearly ten years of searching the land. Sure, he was also busy stealing and running from the law, but who was perfect? Verion seemed to notice this in Ferrin's eyes and laughed out loud. His voice was the most calming thing Ferrin had ever heard. It sang of summers in full bloom and of winds that one could only find in hollow valleys. It was his scent as well, marking him as a part of the land, not just someone who walked upon it, but one that moved within it.

            Are you married? Ferrin questioned, and almost found himself wishing that he hadn't. Verion gave him a plain look, blood draining some from his face before he regained his composure. The centiant shifted his feet and leaned over the rail, staring out at the vast stretch of ocean to the south. Ferrin stood from the bench, paced to the centiant, trying hard not to look over the rail. He patted Verion on the back, a sheepish look marring his face. Verion craned his head to look back over at Ferrin.

            "Do not worry, child," Verion said in a mildly strained voice, "You have said nothing wrong. I am mated with another, married as you might call it. But I have not seen her or the rest of my tribe for a long time. The dark magic that the king of Dagoth used to keep me in his thrall made sure of that. The Council of Stone deemed that I could not return for fear that it might touch others; give them as slaves to the king as I was a slave."

            Ferrin stared in shock, jaw hanging open from what the centiant told him.

            Your own people cast you out because they feared Dagoth? They feared the magic?

            "The magic of the saevant is nothing to scoff at, Ferrin. You have seen the one that Cameron Reol calls Nightwind, seen the lightning that he pulled from a clear sky. They have power granted them by the dark ones."

            What is your wife's name? Ferrin signed, trying to steer him away from that topic. Talking about a man that could call lightning from nothing simply because he wanted it to be there was not anything he wanted to speak of in any great length. Ferrin gave a quick look around to make sure that the wizard wasn't standing behind him.

            "Tiar. I miss her very much. I thought that I would die in the service of that man, Drawn Faleem, but the priest freed me. I owe him. I will watch over you and the youth Benmont Grimnight until you see him again. Only then may I return to Tiar and my tribe with a clear heart. It is what Raisha would do, so I will as well."

            Raisha? Ferrin asked.

            "My brother. He had always felt the will of obligation stronger than I. I will hold this, however, and make him proud, even if the sun's shadow finds me while I am holding my obligation."

            I've heard you say that before, Verion. What does that mean?

            "You have very sharp ears, Ferrin," Verion noted, making Ferrin blush, then wrinkle his lips together. It wasn't as if he were trying to eavesdrop! "The sun's shadow is a race with death, Ferrin. It will fall over all of us in the course of time, but for some it should not fall when it does. It is a very old saying in my tribe."

            "I will take leave of you now, Ferrin. You may go back to finding this chamber pot you were seeking. I hope that you have a fine day." With that the centiant stalked off, disappearing around the rear of the cabin, leaving Ferrin to feel the growing sense of illness in his stomach again. How nice, Ferrin thought, for Verion to remind him that he was feeling seasick. Hadn't the giant dark skinned oaf said that he was going to take that sick feeling from him? Clenching his fists, Ferrin made haste after him, only to stop at the edge of the rail again. Perhaps he was better served hanging onto the rail. At least this chamber pot never had to be emptied and cleaned out. Feeling green once more, Ferrin resigned himself to another long day of sailing.

            The morning sun beat mercilessly through the port hole on the third day of the voyage, amplified by the sparkling blue water all around the ship. Benmont sat up, wincing when the shaft of light fell right in his face. Throwing off a blanket, he made his way to the wash basin that was in the corner of his cabin and did his best to clean himself up. He slept poorly, even with the beating that Verion gave him the night before. Teach him how to use the quarter staff, Verion told him. More like give the centiant the excuse to whomp him until he couldn't move! Probably still angry about the cut that Benmont dealt him when the pair faced off. That had to be it.

            But that hadn't been the reason that sleep failed to find him. His mother had come into his dreams. In them she told him to venture from Diez to the royal capitol of Avalon, where he would find Cameron and the priest. She said that once he found shore that he would have to make haste if he hoped to catch them. Benmont scowled, recalling the hot words that had with her in his dream. Even then he couldn't bring himself to say that she was real, no matter what Verion told him. He could only weep for her, and avenge her when the time came for it. But he would be damned if he sat in his own dreams and held a conversation with his dead mother!

            Pulling a shirt over his head, tying the lace at his neck, he made his way out of his cabin. A few other passengers made their way through the cramped hall, nodding to the big youth as he shouldered by them. It was hot in his cabin, but it was hotter even still in the hall, with so many other bodies around him. It made him angry, even more so than the dream of his mother did. Brooding, Benmont went on deck and sat at the prow, eyes roaming over the rolling waves of blue. A hand fell on his shoulder, making him start. Turning, a growl caught in his throat, he eased down again when Ferrin sat hard beside him. The scrawny youth had a sickly green to his cheeks. Stains blotted the light, sleeveless shirt that he wore. Benmont had never noticed how white Ferrin's skin was. So little muscle on the bone. Smiling, Benmont shook his head at him.

            "Seasick, Ferrin?" Benmont questioned, a wry smile on his lips.

            The youth replied with a despondent nod, dark bags hanging under his eyes.

            "Good."

            Ferrin snarled at him, baring his teeth and Benmont smiled broader, shaking his shoulders as he stood to leave. There had to be places other than that cramped room the captain called a cabin where he could sort his thoughts in private. He could always take up Verion's offer of practice but he still he had sore muscles to tend with before he could challenge the centiant again.

            Benmont turned to make his way along the walk when he almost ran into Diela Shar, who just happened to be strolling by with a long sweeping gown on and a smooth faced young noble man holding her hand on his arm. The pair both gave him cool, indifferent looks, but Benmont could almost see the anger still smoldering in Diela's eyes when he met her gaze. Sighing inwardly, he once again wagered that it was going to be a very long voyage to Deiz.

            "Pardon, lady," Benmont stated evenly, "I was not watching where I was walking. Forgive me." he put emphasis on the last words, staring deeply into her eyes. Diela seemed taken aback, her hand rising to her neck line and her cheeks taking on a darker color then the rouge that she put on gave her. He was fairly sure that she understood what his apology was for. For some reason it made him feel better.

            "Forgiven, master Grimnight," Diela said at last. Her escort gave him a curt nod before stepping past Benmont with Diela in tow, but the young noble woman stopped to look back at Benmont, "Master Grimnight?"

            "Yes?" Benmont spun around, half surprised that she still wanted to speak with him after how hostile he had been to her on the first day of the voyage. Perhaps she was going to give him a brow beating. Far be it from him to put such a thing past the woman.

            "Would you care to meet with me this evening and share drinks? I would like very much to hear what has happened to you and your companions since we last shared dinner in Cromley Tower."

            "It...would be my pleasure, lady," Benmont stammered, unsure if she was baiting him into some kind of trap. But the look on her face told him that she was sincere enough in her offer. He repeated his first words more firmly. Diela Shar shot him a quick smile that made her escort frown at both of them in turn.

            "Then I shall see you after sundown, in the second galley house. Does that sound alright?"

            "Of course," Benmont agreed in a dry tone. There didn't seem to be enough saliva in his mouth. He swallowed once to work more in. Diela said goodbye and then she and her escort were headed for the stern, leaving the big youth standing on the walk in a state of confusion. She simply wanted to talk about Kamil. That was all. She wanted to know where Kamil was. He wondered if she was going to be angry when he told her that he didn't know where his half brother was, or any other of his companions, save for the thieving river rat that was sitting beside him still.

            Ferrin cast Benmont a smug grin, patting the big man on the back, and laughing with a silent shake of his shoulders. Scowling Benmont pushed Ferrin's hand away.

            "What do you think is so funny?"

            Ferrin shrugged innocently, and then gave him a sly wink that made Benmont's face turn red and hot all over.

            "Why don't you go dunk your head, Ferrin? You seem to need some cooling off."

            Without another word Benmont strode away from him, leaving the frail youth to his illness and a coin purse that had been on Benmont's side just a moment ago. It would be another twenty seven minutes before a furious Benmont was ransacking the entire ship in a half mad attempt to find someone that he would only identify to the crew as a dead man.

            That night, only moments after the sun had set along the water line far from the vessel that tread upon it, Benmont Grimnight strode into the second galley room. He was dressed in dark colored slacks with an equally colored shirt, the neck pulled open, showing the beginnings of broad, toned muscle underneath. The galley was quiet, with only a spattering of sailors and guests dotting a few tables from the door to the back of the room where an older man with wrinkled skin sat playing a mandolin. The music seemed to set the mood of the room, mellow and serene. For some reason it set him off, making him itch to leave even before he had found who he had come for.

            "Benmont! Over here!" came Diela Shar's voice, beckoning him to a table in the corner, nearest one of the portholes on the side of the vessel. There was a storm coming. That was what he heard one of the crew members say as he passed by a few on the way to the galley. That was why the ocean was beginning to froth like some great hungry beast. From the looks of the waves around the ship, it was going to be a fierce one.

            Benmont turned on his heel and made his way to the table where Diela and her male friend were sitting at. Both were dressed primly, Diela in a dark colored evening gown that exposed little past her ankles and clung tightly to her neck line, and the young man in a heavy jacket and leggings that wrapped right down into his soft leather sandals. Suddenly Benmont felt terribly underdressed for something he thought was going to be informal.

            Gathering his wits, Benmont made his way over to Diela. Both she and the courter that sat with her rose when he reached the table, and she offered him a seat. Grunting a reply, he snatched a chair from the opposite side of the table and spun it around so he could lean forward on its backing. Diela smiled pleasantly enough at his actions but the finely groomed youth scowled at him, face darkening at his apparent lack in manners. Grinning smugly, Benmont made it a point to lean farther on the chair, feeling the wood creak under his considerable weight. Trying to hide his expression, the young man masked his face behind a mug of cider that he had been sipping from.

            "Benmont, this is Alanz Enra, of the house of Enra. He is of noble blood in the city of Diez. Alanz, this is Benmont Grimnight. The man that I met briefly in Cromley Tower."

            "So, Diela," Benmont began to ask, "What did you ask me here for anyhow? If it's something about Kamil I already told you that I parted ways with him. I hope to meet up with him and the others after I reach Diez, but I fear that it won't be so easy." Benmont slumped down some, pondering what he was going to do in the golden city. He had never thought of going there. He hadn't even been close to the Crossing, much less to the lands where the Eagle ruled his people. If Cameron and the father didn't find him there, he would quest for vengeance in his own way, as he planned it before the father saved him from the Black Fever. Then there would be no one else to worry over. Not the he had come to care for any of them, save possibly Kirstin.

            "I didn't call you here to talk about Kamil, Benmont. I hadn't him all that long, though the time we shared was pleasant enough. He seemed to think of another any time we shared words." Benmont grimaced at her tone. Ferrin was sometimes nervous around Kamil, some smell he carried on him or some such. His mother had warned him that there was danger around him, of another force close to someone he travelled with. Could it have been Kamil? There was nothing he could do now. Either Kamil would face this thing and triumph or he would die.

            "So, master Benmont, how do you know Ms. Shar exactly?" the man who sat next to Diela queried, breaking his train of thought, "She failed to tell me the details of why you were staying in Cromley Tower."

            "I was a guest of the Baron."

            "You were a guest? That's unusual. I was under the impression that only nobility or royalty were the only sort that the baron welcomed into his tower," he flashed radiant eyes to Diela, who nodded and smiled primly at him. "Tell me then, master Benmont, are you of noble blood?"

            "Thankfully no," Benmont replied, almost laughing at the way this man pursed his lips at the answer. He was beginning to enjoy this. The way he saw it, if he was this far up on his high horse, it was a favor to bring him low.

            "I am, however, related to royalty, in some sense, and I suppose that made me a special enough guest," Benmont's words were just contained rage, the muscles on his neck cording with memories still fresh and painful.

            "Royalty?" Alanz' eyes rose with mocking shock, "And who is it that you might be related to, master Benmont. I don't recall hearing anything of your name in the bloodlines in my scholar study."

             "I told you that I am not of royal blood, nor was my mother. My father happens to be the standing king in the realm of Dagoth." Those words seemed to weave a spell over Alanz. He simply froze in his chair; hand on the handle of his cider mug. His bright eyes studied Benmont with an intensity that he found unnerving. The bar maid for the galley came over and took their orders, a pretty young girl with locks of red that framed her face. Benmont gave his order without looking at her, trying to maintain civility in the presence of two women while this man seemed to study him like some beast on display at the zoo. The girl bounced away to serve other men that had gathered at the bar along the back wall, leaving the trio to their conversation.

            Sensing the mood that was setting in, Diela cleared her throat, making Alanz start, and smiled toward Benmont, "I heard from Kamil that you are originally from the village of Banthas. Is that correct?"

            "I am."

            "Master Benmont," Alanz cut in as Diela opened her mouth again, "If you are the heir to the throne of Dagoth, when the king seeks the High Throne and claims to have no heirs, does that not make you a bastard child?"

            "I am at that," Benmont replied coolly, taking great care not to allow anger to stain his words. He gathered that Alanz wanted some kind of rise out of him. One that Benmont was not about to give him the pleasure of seeing. There were, after all, ladies present.

            "Alanz! I cannot believe that you said that! Benmont doesn't deserve such treatment from you or myself! Furthermore you cast a bad impression when it was I that invited him to dine with us. Where are your manners?"

            "It is obvious, lady, that one need no manners when they are dealing with commoners," Benmont interjected acidly, cold eyes fixed on Alanz as intently as the northlander's had been on him only a moment ago. What had he done to anger this man? It didn't make any sense, but then little did in his life any more.

            "I am so sorry, master Benmont," Diela offered sincerely, reaching a hand over the table to take his. Benmont pulled his arm away, letting the chair back on all its legs. The red haired bar maid was making her way back to the table when Benmont rose from his chair.

            "I was under the impression that we were going to speak, my lady, not put me over the coals to explain my presence in the tower. I will leave you to the company that seems to suit you better. Goodnight, lady." The big youth turned and almost bowled over the young maid on his way out, leaving Diela at the table calling after him. Alanz leaned back in his chair, accepting the food from the tray that the maid had brought him. He knew that Diela would be angry with him but he would invent an explanation for his actions. He needed to know if this Benmont Grimnight was truly who he said he was, or if those words were a lie. Either way, the peasant had raised his voice to insult him. Him! And in front of a lady that he was courting! Fixing a plan in his head, Alanz decreed that before this vessel reached the docks in the golden city of Diez, Benmont Grimnight would meet with his fate. The ocean would be his grave. Smiling, Alanz took another sip from his cider, let the dark liquid fill his mouth. It was turning out to be a pleasant voyage after all.