In the Claws of the Tiger (4 page)

“Did we have a big fight in the ruins—is that what you’re asking?” Janik’s voice rose. “Did I drive her away? You think maybe she caught me in bed with Dania?”

“That’s not what I mean, Janik. Nobody thinks what Maija did is your fault, and I know perfectly well what happened with Dania. All I’m saying is that you were obviously closer to her than Dania or I was. I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of people—even you humans—after all these years, and I was completely surprised by what she did. If you have any insight that could help me understand her behavior, I would certainly like to hear it. That’s all.”

“I’m sorry, Mathas.” Janik shook his head. “I was as surprised as you were. I still lie awake some nights trying to understand it, and I just can’t.”

Mathas cut a bite of venison and chewed it slowly, then set his fork down. “So when do we leave for Thrane?”

I
n contrast to the ride from Sharn, Janik enjoyed the journey from Fairhaven to Flamekeep.
Agate Star
was an airship built for luxury, easily twice the size of the ship Janik had sailed on from Sharn. Her main deck boasted a grand pavilion containing a luxurious dining room, a lounge, and even a small library, though Janik found nothing on its shelves to catch his interest. The deck had room for chairs, and the cabins below were spacious and comfortable.

Janik and Mathas had boarded in the late morning and expected to arrive in Flamekeep shortly after dawn the next day. The old friends enjoyed a fine luncheon together. As always, Janik let the elf choose wine for him, and did not regret the decision—Mathas had extensive knowledge of wines and exquisite taste. Their conversation ranged widely over their shared past without ever straying too close to Maija or dwelling on Dania. Janik was eager to hear of Mathas’s activities over the past three years, and found with some surprise that he had plenty of tales to share as well.

Janik spent the afternoon on the deck while Mathas
retreated to his cabin to study. He watched the plains and rolling hills of Aundair far below, idly wondering at what point they became Thrane. No natural feature marked the border, which he supposed might be the reason it had been so hotly contested during the war. He saw two different places—easily a three-day journey apart—where the land still had not recovered from some pitched battle fought there in the last years of the war. He supposed one or the other might lie on the border set in the Thronehold Accords. He wondered how long it took for the earth to heal a scar like that.

As the autumn sun drew near the horizon behind the ship, bathing the deck in golden light and long shadows, Janik changed into formal clothes and joined Mathas in the dining room. In place of the sunlight and chatter of luncheon time, the dining room was now dancing with candles and alive with the soft music of a small orchestra. Janik found Mathas at a small table near the window, just as he had in Aundair the day before.

“I find myself drawn to windows these days,” Mathas said as Janik took his seat. “I don’t know what it is—I can find endless amusement in just staring out, no matter what’s on the other side.”

Janik peered out the window himself. The fiery glare of the airship’s elemental ring all but drowned out the Ring of Siberys in the deep blue sky, the golden belt of dragonshards that circled the world. He looked at Mathas and grinned. “You must be getting old.”

“Nonsense,” Mathas said. He sipped his wine. “I was old when you were born. In fact,” he continued, “I believe the last time I was in Thrane was before you were born. King Thalin was such a strange man, so … devout. His presence made those around him feel uneasy, as though they might be called
upon to praise the Silver Flame at a moment’s notice. I expect the Keeper of the Flame will be much the same.”

“Is it true she’s a child, this Jaela Daran? Eight years old?”

“I believe she must be eleven by now, but yes, a child,” Mathas said. “Ruling part of Galifar like a queen, Sovereigns help us.”

“There must be a regent or something—someone who does the work of government on her behalf?”

“I believe so—a council of clergy of some sort. It’s absurd to imagine an eleven-year-old in charge of affairs of state.”

“Quite. Do you think we’ll be dealing with this council, then? Or someone else?”

“I have no idea,” Mathas said, then he gave a laugh. “Maybe Dania.”

“Sovereigns help us,” Janik replied, rolling his eyes dramatically.

When a waitress approached the table, the two fell silent, not wanting to offend the young woman, who proudly displayed the emblem of the Silver Flame around her neck. She took their order and withdrew, and Janik took the opportunity to change the subject.

“I neglected to mention—Dania is not the only old friend who has suddenly inserted herself back into my life.”

Mathas raised his eyebrows. “Who else?”

“I received a … communication from Krael Kavarat on my way to Aundair. The messenger nearly crashed the airship.”

“An Emerald Claw assassin?” Mathas looked shocked.

“A warforged assassin. I don’t know about Emerald Claw. But he admitted Krael sent him. To kill me.”

“That’s bizarre. Why now?”

“Exactly. I haven’t heard a word from or about Krael since he walked off with Maija and the Ramethene Sword.
And why should I? I’ve been no threat to him these last three years—he’s had plenty of opportunity to send assassins after me in Sharn. But no, he sends his latest killer after me now, after Dania has invited me to Thrane.”

“Clearly he knows something about our mission. Probably more than we do at this point.”

“My thought exactly,” Janik said. “It gives me a bad feeling. Whatever the Keeper, or Dania, or whoever has in mind, it’s clear that Krael will be involved.”

“On the bright side, maybe we’ll have the opportunity to kill him this time.” Mathas smiled grimly.

“That would be good,” Janik said. “That would be really good.”

After dinner, Janik and Mathas retired to their cabins. As he often did, Janik dreamed of Maija—her head on his shoulder, her brown hair tickling his nose, her skin pressed against his. When the steward called “Flamekeep!” outside his door in the morning, he awoke confused, unable to figure out where he was or where Maija had gone. He called her name twice before he came back to the present, and the familiar dull ache settled around his heart again. He threw on the clothes he had set out the night before, hoisted his pack, gave the room a quick glance, and stepped out.

Janik looked up and down the crowded hall, but saw no sign of Mathas. He walked to the elf’s cabin and pounded on the door. “Mathas! Are you awake?”

“I’m an elf, you idiot. I don’t sleep.” Even so, the voice inside sounded groggy, and Janik heard some frantic sounds of motion. A few moments later, Mathas stumbled out, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. Wordlessly, the two
made their way through the crowd to the mooring tower.

Flamekeep was far different from Fairhaven. While the capital of Aundair was spread out in ordered streets, Flamekeep sprawled over a small island and the nearby mainland shore. At its heart was the great Cathedral of the Silver Flame, standing like a beacon above the rest of the city, clearly visible from the mooring tower. Even the shops and houses in the city had a soaring architecture that suggested Thrane’s devotion to the Church, lending an elegant beauty to the relative jumble of the city’s streets.

Janik was so focused on making his way through the crowds in the mooring tower that he didn’t notice the knights converging on him until Mathas nudged him. They were heavily armored—“easily outrun,” in Janik’s mind—and wore the insignia of the Church of the Silver Flame beautifully engraved on their breastplates. They carried longswords at their belts and bows slung on their backs. The only visible threat in their approach was the way they moved from opposite sides to approach Janik from the right and left, narrowing his chances of escape.

Fair enough, he thought, but I won’t bolt just yet.

“Janik Martell,” one of the knights said, stepping forward and standing formally at attention. The other knight adopted a similar pose, and Janik stopped with Mathas just behind him. “Welcome to Thrane.”

“Thank you,” Janik said. “Was that a real welcome or a ‘you’re under arrest’ welcome?”

The second knight, a blond woman at least ten years younger than Janik, smiled at that, but her male companion frowned. “We are Knights of Thrane,” he said, “and we do not speak to deceive. You are an honored guest of the Cathedral, and you are most welcome.” He gave a small bow,
which his still-smiling companion echoed, and Janik nodded slightly in return.

“Thank you, Knights of Thrane,” he said with a glance back at Mathas. “I apologize for appearing to question your honesty—it’s just that I was not aware the Cathedral knew of our arrival on this particular airship.”

“The knowledge and wisdom of the Keeper of the Flame admit no limitations,” the smiling woman said.

“Indeed,” the male knight replied. “If you will accompany us, we will take you to your quarters in the Cathedral.”

“Thank you.”

As the knights began to walk toward the stairs, Janik and Mathas fell into step behind them. “My friend also requires lodging,” Janik said. “Are there accommodations prepared at the Cathedral for him as well?”

“Our apologies, master,” the male knight said, looking at Mathas for the first time. “We were not informed of your coming. However,” he turned to Janik, “I’m sure you’ll find that your lodging at the Cathedral includes adequate room for your companion.”

“I do not sleep on benches,” Mathas said with only a slight smile.

“There will be no need for you to do so,” the knight replied.

“The Cathedral’s hospitality admits no limitations,” Mathas said under his breath.

Janik chuckled as the knights led the way down the mooring tower’s stairs to the street. There, a large and ornate coach waited for them, hitched to two white horses that looked prepared for a parade. The driver jumped down from his perch and opened the door when he saw them approach, holding the door as Mathas and then Janik climbed in and settled
themselves on the comfortably padded seats. The female knight stood at the door. “It’s just a short ride to the Cathedral,” she said. “We’ll be on the back.” She closed the door quietly, then Janik heard the knights’ armor clanking as they climbed onto the back of the coach. Hooves clomped on cobblestones as the carriage began to bounce and roll.

“That’s strange,” Janik said, looking across the carriage at Mathas. “How would they know I was coming on this airship but not know that you were coming? At first, I thought Kelas had notified them of our departure from Aundair, but wouldn’t he have told them about you?”

“It’s more likely they have agents watching the mooring tower in Fairhaven,” Mathas said. “Or House Lyrandar sends passenger lists ahead of the airships. Why would Kelas tell them we were coming, anyway? He has no love for Thrane.”

“You’re right. I’m probably reading too much into this. They have access to the passenger lists. Looking over the list, they’d have no idea we were traveling together. A live agent in Fairhaven would have seen that.” Janik rested his head on the cushioned seat back behind him. “Politics make my head swim. I’d rather head back into the Xen’drik jungle.”

Mathas smiled. “If only we could ride in cushioned coaches through the jungle.”

“That would be a sight!” Janik laughed.

Mathas closed his eyes while Janik gazed out the window. The coach made its way down the long coastal road to one of the bridges that connected the island-city to the mainland. A low wall ran the length of the bridge, carved with reliefs depicting the religious history of Thrane. Once across the bridge, the coach wound up a steep hill toward the Cathedral.

Janik’s heart started beating faster, and he felt somehow as if he were about to step into some new, unexplored ruin
in Xen’drik. Another adventure, he thought.

Still, I’d rather be walking into a crypt or ruin than this, he mused. That kind of adventure I know how to handle.