Crimson Shadow, The - R. A. Salvatore Page 0,162

mind.

“But we are enemies of the one-eyes,” Gretel confirmed. “And whoever rules Eriador should be of Eriador, not of Avon.”

Katerin recognized the sincerity in the old woman’s face and understood that Port Charley had indeed joined the alliance against Greensparrow. Again because of her knowledge of her own town, Katerin understood that Gretel would not have made such a bold and absolute statement if she didn’t have the backing of her townsfolk.

“I still think that it would have been easier to keep them out of the docks,” Katerin had to say. “Perhaps we might have even sunk one or two of their ships, taking half a thousand cyclopians to the bottom with them!”

“Ah, yes,” Brind’Amour agreed. “But then they would have kept those ships we did not sink.” Katerin and Oliver looked at the old man, his face widening with a wicked grin. “Not tomorrow night, but the night after that,” he said, and he and Gretel exchanged a serious nod.

Brind’Amour turned back to the expectant companions. “The night after next will be a dark one,” he explained. “Dark enough for us to board the Avon ships. In two nights, Eriador will have a fleet.”

The wizard’s smile was infectious. The halfling spoke for Katerin and himself: “I do like the way you think.”

CHAPTER 10

MOSQUITOES

THE WORD RAN AHEAD of the marching force like windswept fire, crossed from town to town, raced along the roads and the mountain trails, and came to Caer MacDonald before the whole of the Praetorian Guard had even marched out beyond Port Charley’s eastern borders.

Luthien took the news stoically, putting on a bold face for his companions, telling them that the cyclopians’ passage through the port city had been expected, and though he had hoped for more time, the defenses would be ready. A rousing cheer accompanied his every remark: after the victory in Caer MacDonald and the raising of Eriador’s ancient flag over the Ministry—the decorated mountain cross, its four equal arms flared at their corners, on a green field—the rebels were ready for a fight, eager to spill more cyclopian blood.

Luthien appreciated that attitude and took heart in it, joining in the “celebration” Shuglin began in the Dwelf, the theme of the party giving praise for so many one-eyes to kill. The young Bedwyr left early, though, explaining that he had much to do the next day and reminding them that many small villages, most of them not shown on any maps or even named by any but those who lived there, lay between Caer MacDonald and Port Charley. When he left the Dwelf, the young Bedwyr did not go back to his apartment in Tiny Alcove. Rather, he slipped around to the back of the tavern and climbed the rain gutter to the roof.

“What have we begun?” Luthien asked the starry night. The air was crisp, but not too cold, and the stars glistened like crystalline ornaments. He considered the news from the west; the cyclopians hadn’t even been slowed in Port Charley, and that could only mean that the folk of the port town had not embraced the rebellion.

“We need them all,” Luthien whispered, needing to hear his thoughts aloud. He felt as if he was preparing a speech, and considering the way things had gone, he knew that he might well be. “All of Eriador. Every man, every woman. What good may our efforts be if those we seek to free do not take up arms in their own defense? What worth is victory if it is not a shared win? For then, I do not doubt, those who are free because of our sacrifice will not embrace that which we have accomplished, will not see the flag of Eriador as their own.”

Luthien moved to the western edge of the roof, kicked away a piece of hardened snow and knelt upon the bare spot. He could see the massive silhouette of the Ministry, where so many brave folk had died. The Ministry, built as a symbol of man’s spirit and love of God, but used by Greensparrow’s pawn as a house of tax collection, and as a courtroom. Not even a courtroom, Luthien mused, for under Morkney, the Ministry was a place of condemnation and not of justice.

Stars twinkled all about the tallest tower, as though the structure reached right up into the heavens to touch the feet of God. Truly it was a beautiful night, calm and quiet. Few lights burned in the city, and the streets were quiet, except right