He had to believe that.
*****
Errtu thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle, and was glad that he would not have to pay off his hired master of disguise. It bothered the fiend for a moment that his guide for the Sea Sprite's voyage to the virtually unchartered island had just gone away, but the balor held his faith. The seeds had been sown; the doppleganger had teased Deudermont about the destination, and Drizzt had heard the exact name of the island and would pass it on to the captain. The balor knew neither were cowards, both were resourceful and curious.
Errtu knew Drizzt and Deudermont would find their way to Caerwich and the blind seer who held the fiend's message. Soon enough.
Chapter 4 UNASKED FOR "ASSISTANCE"
The Sea Sprite put back out two weeks later, her course south. Captain Deudermont explained that they had business pending in Baldur's Gate, one of the largest ports on the Sword Coast, about halfway between Waterdeep and Calimshan. No one questioned Deudermont openly, but many felt that he seemed on edge, almost indecisive, a mannerism they had never experienced with the confident captain before.
That demeanor changed four days out of Waterdeep Harbor, when the Sea Sprite's lookout caught sight of a square-rigger sporting a deck covered with sailors. Caravels were ordinarily crewed by forty to fifty men. A pirate ship, wanting to attack swiftly with overwhelming odds, and then bring the booty quickly to shore, might carry three times that number. Pirate ships didn't carry cargo; they carried warriors.
If Deudermont had seemed indecisive before, not so now. Up came the Sea Sprite's sails to full. Catti-brie hooked Taulmaril over her shoulder and began the climb to the crow's nest, and Robillard was ordered to take his place on the poop deck and to
use his magic to further fill the sails. But the natural wind was already strong from the northwest, from astern it already filled the sails of both the Sea Sprite and the running pirate ship, and the chase would be a long one.
At center deck, the ship's musicians took up a rousing tune, and Drizzt came back from the forward beam earlier than usual to stand beside Deudermont at the wheel.
"Where will we tow her once captured?" the drow asked, a usual question on the high seas. They were still closer to Water-deep than to Baldur's Gate, but the wind was from the north generally, favoring a southern course.
"Orlumbor," Deudermont answered without hesitation.
Drizzt was surprised by that. Orlumbor was a rocky, windswept island halfway between Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate, an independent city-state, lightly populated and hardly equipped to hold a caravel full of pirates.
"Will the shipwrights even take her?" the drow asked doubtfully.
Deudermont nodded, his face stern. "Orlumbor owes much to Waterdeep," he explained. "They will hold her until another ship of Waterdeep arrives to tow her away. I will instruct Robillard to use his powers to contact the Lords of Waterdeep."
Drizzt nodded. It seemed perfectly logical, yet perfectly out of place. The drow understood now that this was no ordinary run for the normally patient Sea Sprite. Never before had Deudermont left off a captured ship and crew for another to pick up in his wake. Time had never seemed an issue out here, amidst the steady and eternal roll of the sea. The Sea Sprite would normally run until she found a pirate ship, snag her or sink her, then return to one of the friendly ports and hand her over, however long that might take.
"Our business in Baldur's Gate must be urgent," the drow remarked, cocking a suspicious eye the captain's way.
Deudermont turned to look at him directly, to stare long and hard at Drizzt for the first time this voyage. "We are not going to Baldur's Gate," he admitted.
"Then where?" Drizzt's tone showed that he was not surprised by that revelation.
The captain shook his head and turned his stare forward, adjusting the wheel slightly to keep them in line with the running caravel.
Drizzt accepted that. He knew that Deudermont had graced him by even admitting that they would not sail for Baldur's Gate. He also knew that the captain would confide in him as Deudermont needed. Their business now at hand was the pirate ship, still far ahead, her square sails barely visible on the blue line of the horizon.
"More wind, wizard!" Deudermont casually called back to Robillard, who grunted and waved his hand at the captain. "We'll not catch her before dusk unless we have more wind."
Drizzt offered a smile to Deudermont, then made his way forward, back to the beam, to the smell and the spray, to the hissing sound of the Sea Sprite's run, to the solitude he needed to think and to prepare.
They ran for three hours before the caravel was close enough for Catti-brie, in the crow's nest with her spyglass, to even confirm that it was indeed a pirate ship. The day was long then, the sun halfway from peak to the western horizon, and the chasers knew they would be cutting this one close. If they couldn't catch the pirate ship before sunset, she would sail off into the darkness. Robillard had some spells to try to keep track of her movements, but the pirate ship no doubt had a wizard of her own, or a cleric, at least. Though neither would likely be very powerful, certainly not as accomplished as Robillard, such tracking spells were easily defeated. Also, pirates never ventured too far from their secret ports, and the Sea Sprite certainly couldn't chase this one all the way home, where her friends might be waiting.
Deudermont didn't seem overly concerned. They had lost pirates to the night before, and would again. There would always be another outlaw to chase. But Drizzt, keeping a covert eye on the captain, never remembered seeing him quite this casual. Obviously, it had something, or everything, to do with the incident in Waterdeep and the mysterious destination that Deudermont would not discuss.
The drow tightened his hold on the line of the flying jib and sighed. Deudermont would tell him in his own time.
The wind lessened and the Sea Sprite made up some ground. It seemed as though this pirate ship might not get away after all. The band of minstrels, which had broken up during the long and tedious middle hours of the chase, came back together again and
took up the tune. Drizzt knew that soon the pirates would hear the music, it would reach to them across the waves, a harbinger of their doom.
Now things seemed back to normal, more relaxed despite the fact that a battle seemed imminent. Drizzt tried to convince himself that Deudermont was calm because he had known they would catch the pirate ship. Everything was back to normal.
"Spray astern!" came a cry, turning all hands about.
"What is that?" more than one voice cried. Drizzt looked to Catti-brie, who had her spyglass aimed behind the Sea Sprite, and was shaking her head curiously.
The drow skittered along the rail, pulling up to a halt amidships, and leaning out to catch his first glimpse of the unknown pursuer. He saw a high wedge of spray, the spray the giant dorsal fin of a killer whale might make if any whale in all the world could move so quickly. But this was no natural animal, Drizzt knew instinctively, and so did everyone else aboard the Sea Sprite.
"She's going to ram!" warned Waillan Micanty, near to the ballista mounted on the ship's stern. Even as he spoke, the strange rushing pursuer veered to starboard and cut by the Sea Sprite as though she was standing still.
No whale, Drizzt realized as the creature, or whatever it was, plowed past, twenty yards from the Sea Sprite, but close enough to lift a wall of water against the side of the schooner. The drow thought he saw a form inside that spray, a human form.
"It's a man!" Catti-brie called from above, confirming Drizzt's suspicions.
All the crew watched in disbelief as the speeding creature rushed away from the Sea Sprite, closing the ground to the caravel.
"A wizard?" Deudermont asked Robillard.
Robillard shrugged, as did all of the others nearby, none of them having any explanation whatsoever. "The more important question," the wizard finally said, "would be to inquire as to the loyalty of this newcomer. Friend, or foe?"
Apparently, those on the caravel didn't know the answer to tha
t either, for some stared silently from the rail, while others picked up crossbows. The pirate ship's catapult crew even launched a ball of flaming pitch at the newcomer, but he was
moving too fast for them to gauge the distance and the missile hissed harmlessly into the surf. Then the rushing man moved up alongside the caravel, easily outpacing her. The wake diminished and then disappeared in an instant, to reveal a robed man wearing a heavy pack and standing atop the waves, waving his arms frantically and calling out. He was too far from the Sea Sprite now for any of the crew to make out exactly what he was saying.
"Suren he's to casting a spell!" Catti-brie yelled down from the crow's nest. "He's-" She stopped abruptly, drawing a concerned look from Drizzt, and though the drow couldn't make her out clearly from his angle so far below, he could tell that she was confused and could see that she was shaking her head, as if in denial of something.
Those on the deck of the Sea Sprite struggled to figure out exactly what was going on. They saw a flurry of activity near the rail facing the man as he stood upon the water. They heard shouts and the clicking sound of crossbows firing, but if any bolts struck the man, he did not show it.
Suddenly, there came a tremendous flash of fire that dissipated immediately into a huge cloud of thick fog, a ball of white where the caravel had been. And it was growing! Soon the cloud covered the water-walking spellcaster as well, and spread out thick and wide. Deudermont kept his course straight and fast, but when he finally neared the location, he had to slow to a drifting crawl, not daring to enter the unexplained bank. Frustrated, cursing under his breath, Deudermont turned the Sea Sprite broadside to the misty veil.
All hands stood ready along the rail. The heavy mounted crossbows were armed and ready, as was the ballista on the Sea Sprite's stern deck.
Finally, the fog began to lift, to roll back under the press of the stiff breeze. A ghostly figure appeared just within the veil, standing on the water, chin in palm, looking disconcertingly at the spot where the caravel had been.
"Ye're not to believe this," Catti-brie called down to Drizzt, a groan accompanying her words.
Indeed, Drizzt did not, for he also came to recognize the unexpected arrival. He noted the carmine robe, decorated with wizardly runes and outrageous images. These were stick figures,
actually, depicting wizards in the throes of spellcasting, something an aspiring wizard the ripe age of five might draw in a play spellbook. Drizzt also recognized the hairless, almost childish face of the man-all dimples and huge blue eyes-and the brown hair, long and straight, pulled back tight behind the man's ears so that they stood out from his head at almost right angles.
"What is it?" Deudermont asked the drow.
"Not what," Drizzt corrected. "But who." The drow gave a short laugh and shook his head in disbelief.
"Who then?" Deudermont demanded, trying to sound stern though Drizzt's chuckles were both comforting and infectious.
"A friend," Drizzt replied, and he paused and looked up at Catti-brie. "Harkle Harpell of Longsaddle."
"Oh, no," Robillard groaned from behind them. Like every wizard in all the Realms, Robillard had heard the tales of Longsaddle and the eccentric Harpell family, the most unintentionally dangerous group of wizards ever to grace the multiverse.
As the moments passed and the fog cloud continued to dissipate, Deudermont and his crew relaxed. They had no idea of what had happened to the caravel until the cloud was nearly gone, for then they spotted the pirate ship, running fast, far, far away. Deudermont almost called for full sails, meaning to give chase once more, but he looked to the lowering sun, gauged the distance between his ship and his adversary, and decided that this one had gotten away.
The wizard, Harkle Harpell, was in clear sight now, just a dozen yards or so beyond the Sea Sprite's starboard bow. Deudermont gave the wheel over to a crewman and walked with Drizzt and Robillard to the closest point. Catti-brie came down the mainmast to join them.
Harkle stood impassively, chin in hand, staring at the spot where the caravel had been. He rolled with the swells, up high and down low, and continually tapped his foot upon the sea. It was a strange sight, for the water moved away from him, his water-walking enchantment preventing his foot from actually making any contact with the salty liquid.
Finally, Harkle looked back at the Sea Sprite, at Drizzt and the others. "Never thought of that," he admitted, shaking his head. "Aimed the fireball too low, I suppose."
"Wonderful," Robillard muttered.
"Are you coming aboard?" Deudermont asked the man, and the question, or the sudden realization that he was not aboard any ship, seemed to break Harkle from his trance.
"Ah, yes!" he said. "Actually a good idea. Glad I am that I found you." He pointed down at his feet. "I do not know how much longer my spell-"
As he spoke the words, the spell apparently expired, for under he went, plop, into the sea.
"Big surprise," remarked Catti-brie, moving to the rail to join the others.
Deudermont called for poles to fish the wizard out, then looked to his friends in disbelief. "He came out on the high seas with such a tentative enchantment?" the captain asked incredulously. "He might never have found us, or any other friendly ship, and then …"
"He is a Harpell," Robillard answered as though that should explain everything.
"Harkle Harpell," Catti-brie added, her sarcastic tone accentuating the wizard's point.
Deudermont just shook his head, taking some comfort in the fact that Drizzt, standing beside him, was obviously enjoying all of this.
Chapter 5 A PASSING THOUGHT
Wrapped in a blanket, his robes hanging on the mast high above him to dry in the wind, the waterlogged wizard sneezed repeatedly, spraying those around him. He simply couldn't contain himself and got Deudermont right in the face when the captain came up for an introduction.
"I give to you one Harkle Harpell of Longsaddle," Drizzt said to Deudermont. Harkle extended his hand, and the blanket fell away from him. The skinny wizard scrambled to retrieve it, but was too late.
"Get this one a meal," Catti-brie snickered from behind. "Suren he could use a bit o'meat on that bum."
Harkle blushed a deep red. Robillard, who had already met the Harpell, just walked away, shaking his head and suspecting that exciting times were yet to come.
"What brings you here," Deudermont asked, "so far from shore, on the open seas?"
Harkle looked to Drizzt. "I came on invitation," he said at length, seeming somewhat perturbed when the drow made no move to answer for him.
Drizzt eyed him curiously.
"I did!" protested the wizard. "On your word." He spun about to regard Catti-brie. "And yours!"
Catti-brie looked to Drizzt, who shrugged and held his hands out to the sides, having no idea of what Harkle might be talking about.
"Oh, well, well, well, a fine 'hello, I suppose," the exasperated wizard stammered. "But then, I expected it, though I hoped a drow elf would have a longer memory. What do you say to someone you meet again after a century? Couldn't remember his name, could you? Oh, no, no. That would be too much trouble."
"What are you talking about?" Drizzt had to ask. "I remember your name."
"And a good thing, too!" Harkle roared. "Or I would really be mad!" He snapped his fingers indignantly in the air, and the sound sobered him. He stood for a long moment, seeming thoroughly confused, as though he had forgotten what in the world he was talking about.
"Oh, yes," Harkle said at length and looked straight at Drizzt. The wizard's stern expression soon softened to one of curiosity.
"What are you talking about?" Drizzt asked again, trying to prompt Harkle.
"I do not know," the wizard admitted.
"You were telling me what brought you out here," Deudermont put in.
Harkle snapped his fingers again. "The spell, of course!" he said happily.
Deudermont sighed. "Obviously, it was a spell," the captain began slowly, trying to find a path that would gar
ner some useful information from the rambling mage.
"Not 'a' spell," Harkle retorted. "The spell. My new spell, the fog of fate."
"The fog of fate?" Deudermont echoed.
"Oh, very good spell," Harkle began excitedly. "Expedites things, you know. Get on with your life and all that. Shows you where to go. Puts you there even, I think. But it doesn't tell you why." The wizard moved one hand up to tap at his chin, and his blanket slipped down again, but he didn't seem to notice. "I should work on that part. Yes, yes, then I would know why I was here."
"Ye're not even knowin'?" Catti-brie asked, and she faced the rail, even leaned over it somewhat, so she wouldn't have to look at Harkle's bony buttocks.
"Answering an invitation, I suppose," Harkle replied.
Catti-brie's expression was purely doubtful, as was Drizzt's.
"It's true!" Harkle protested vehemently. "Oh, so convenient of you to forget. Shouldn't say things you don't mean, I say! When you, both of you"-he looked from one to the other, waggling his finger-"passed through Longsaddle six years ago, you mentioned that you hoped our paths might cross once more. 'If ever you find yourself near to us. That is exactly what you said!"
"I do not-" Drizzt began, but Harkle waved him silent, then rushed to the oversized pack he had carried with him, which was drying on the deck. His blanket slipped down farther, but the wizard was too consumed by his task to notice. Catti-brie didn't bother to look away, she just snickered and shook her head.
Harkle pulled a small flask from his pack, retrieved his blanket for modesty's sake, and bounced back over to stand before Drizzt. Snapping his fingers defiantly in the air before the drow, the wizard popped off the cork.
From the flask came a voice, Catti-brie's own voice. "If you ever find yerself near to us," she said, "do look in."
"So there," Harkle said in superior tones as he plopped the cork back into place. He stood for a long moment, hands on hips, until Drizzt's smile became inviting. "And just where are we?" the wizard asked, turning to Deudermont.
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