Free Forge of the Mindslayers: Blade of the Flame Book 2 by Tim Waggoner Page A

who’s taken vows, holy or otherwise.”
    The commander of the Sea Scorpions smiled with amusement. “Just asking. So the five of you were sitting here, talking and minding your own business, when Haaken and his crewcame in and started to stir up trouble, and when trouble began, you”—she nodded to Diran—“decided to intervene.”
    “I’m a priest of the Silver Flame, one of the Purified. It’s my job to combat evil wherever I find it.”
    Asenka looked at him for a long moment, and Diran wondered if he’d said something wrong.
    “If anyone else told me that, I’d say they were full of bilge water, but you sound so …
sincere.”
She stressed this last word as if it were foreign to her.
    “Is that so hard to believe?” Diran asked.
    “In Perhata, yes,” Asenka answered. “In this town, people would slit their own mother’s throats to make a few extra coppers. That is, if dear old Mommy didn’t cut theirs first. Qualities like honesty and sincerity are in short supply around here.”
    “I don’t know about that,” Diran said. “You’re being both right now, aren’t you?”
    “I suppose,” Asenka admitted, “but it comes with the territory. I’m commander of the baron’s fleet, and Mahir doesn’t take kindly to his servants lying to him.”
    “You strike me as someone who does what she believes is best, regardless of what anyone else thinks. Barons included.”
    Asenka smiled then and gazed into his eyes. Diran returned both her gaze and her smile, and they sat like that for several moments until Diran became aware that they were being stared at. He broke eye contact with Asenka and turned to see that his companions were looking at him and smiling pleased, knowing, almost smirking smiles. Diran scowled, but his friends only smiled wider.
    Irritated, though unsure exactly why, he returned his attention to Asenka. “I take it that it’s not uncommon for you to have trouble with the Coldhearts.”
    “Every few months they sail into Perhata, stroll into the city, and make some noise, but they usually depart before causing anyserious damage. They do it just to prove they can—and to annoy us, of course. As soon as they make port, the dockmaster sends a runner to inform me, then I bring some of my people around to tell Haaken to weigh anchor, and that’s the end of it. Out on the open water, it’s a different story. The Coldhearts periodically stage raids on our fishing and cargo ships, and they harass merchant vessels in an attempt to deter them from coming here to trade.”
    “Do you harass back?” Ghaji asked.
    Asenka shook her head. “Mahir’s father believed in striking back, a raid for a raid, a life for a life, but Mahir has more restraint. When he became baron, he decreed that we were only to strike back at the Coldhearts themselves, and that Kolbyr’s fishing and trading vessels were to be left in peace.”
    “He sounds like a reasonable man,” Tresslar said. “For a baron, that is.”
    “It must be frustrating for you and the Sea Scorpions,” Diran said to Asenka, “unable to fight back as completely as you might wish.”
    “I’ll admit it’s not much fun at times,” she said, “but I can see the wisdom in Mahir’s thinking. We’ve been at undeclared war with Kolbyr for close to a century now, and while both cities still survive, neither has been able to thrive the way others in the Principalities have. Mahir isn’t foolish enough to believe that we’ll become friends with Kolbyr anytime soon, but he hopes to eventually establish a truce, one that will allow both cities to conduct their business without interference—at least from each other.”
    “I would think that progress toward such a truce would be difficult at best,” Yvka said, “given how strong the enmity between your two cities is, and how long it’s lasted.”
    Hinto nodded. “Every salt on the Lhazaar knows that the Gulf of Ingjald is rough sailing—and not because of the waters.”
    Asenka