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Artavash swept in and bade Lady Ilys and Sturm to sit.
She unbuckled her armor and tossed the segments in an
ebony chest whose hasp and hinges were of silver. A
steward appeared, dressed in red velvet vest and billowing
silk pantaloons.
"Wine, Dubai," Artavash said. She scratched her sides
where the armor chafed, just like Sturm's father always had,
and settled onto a heap of plush pillows.
Sturm strained his neck taking in the opulence of the
pavilion. When Dubai returned with a silver ewer and three
goblets, he had to ask, "Is this your ship, Lady?"
"Mine? No. It belongs to the Lord of the Sea. I'm not
even its captain; Sir Radiz sees to our progress over the
water."
The steward poured three measures of dark red wine.
Artavash sipped, nodded, and allowed Dubai to offer the
other two goblets to Lady Ilys and Sturm. Sturm's mother
refused for the both of them.
"You offend my hospitality," Artavash said darkly.
"I would prefer to be recognized as a prisoner, rather
than a guest," Lady Ilys said. Artavash sent the wine to
Mistress Carin. She too declined to drink.
"Pah! Why are you northerners so haughty? Could your
noble Order of knights prevent the Cataclysm? Has your
devotion to Paladine brought you glory? You mystify me
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