by Mel Odom
Another moment passed, then Iakhovas gave the order to the flier’s tiller. The flier surged forward and joined Huaanton and his group on the rocky ledge. Even the flier’s crew quickly spread out, some of them swimming up to fill in the space in the water above the ledge. All of them held their weapons tightly and faced the kraken.
Swimming from the flier, Iakhovas never glanced back. The shrill of the pulleys sounded again as the net crews drew it closed.
Reacting a little slowly, her own attention divided in three different directions, Laaqueel swam to join Iakhovas. She dropped into place beside him only a heartbeat behind the wizard’s own landing. She felt the hard stone of the ledge beneath her feet, worn smooth by centuries of usage.
“We’ll talk,” Huaanton said.
“Of course, Exalted One,” Iakhovas agreed. “I’d have this no other way.”
Turning, the sahuagin king launched himself upward, his webbed hands and feet catching the water at once. He swam for one of five sahuagin-sized tunnels above him. Iakhovas followed.
Laaqueel joined them, swimming behind three of the royal guard who trailed Iakhovas. Only one of the tunnels would lead to the royal palace, and even it would only provide an entry to the maze of tunnels that eventually took a knowing swimmer there. The sahuagin mind loved mazes, and learning complicated ones was a challenge. The other tunnels led to other places, and some of them would lead only to certain death by traps or creatures. Underwater races knew to fear sahuagin mazes.
She followed their lead, marking each turn in her mind, knowing that she was swimming even deeper into Iakhovas’s own maze of treacheries. Those, she felt certain, she’d never learn completely.
XXIII
17 Mirtul, the Year of the Gauntlet
“Waterdeep was all but destroyed, the way I hear it.”
Jherek’s attention was riveted to the speaker in spite of the press of people crowding the marketplace around him. He carried a bag of packages over his shoulder, items Sabyna had purchased for the ship or for her own personal use.
“I hear all her ships went down, and all those gathered for Fleetswake,” another man said.
Jherek couldn’t believe it. A cold tendril of fear arced out from his spine across his shoulders despite the sweltering heat of Athkatla’s Waukeen’s Promenade. Though not overly far from the Sea of Swords, the fifty foot walls of the marketplace enclosed the stadium and trapped the heat from the noonday sun inside despite the entry arches at ground level.
“What’s wrong?” Sabyna asked, looking up at him from the table covered with spices, baking goods, and cooking utensils. She’d wanted to try a new dish that evening while they were in port. Cooking for two had seemed to make her even more adventurous.
Jherek craned his head toward the two seamen standing near one of the supports that held the next level above. The terraced levels were seventy-five feet across and packed with merchants hawking wares of all kinds at tables and booths. Uniformed guards occupied the marketplace in impressive numbers, which helped drive up the cost of the goods being offered.
“Did you hear that?” he asked her.
“What?”
“Those two sailors … they’re talking about ships sinking at Waterdeep.”
Jherek nodded at the two sailors. Both men were dressed down, looking like they’d just stepped from their ships. Already other sailors were starting to collect around them, eager to hear more.
Quickly, Sabyna made her selections and didn’t bother haggling with the merchant, paying his price when she could have easily talked him down. Today the market had belonged to the buyer. Now Jherek knew why. Waterdeep did a lot of trading with the Amnians, and if ships had been destroyed, usual markets could no longer be counted on.
Sabyna placed her hand on the inside of his arm and guided him toward the sailors, covering the pirate’s tattoo that he desperately kept hidden from her beneath his shirt. Despite the haze of vegetable and fruit scents, the strong smell of cured meats, and the herbalist burning incense only a few tables down, Jherek could still smell the lilac scent that clung to her. Her fingers gripped his arm tightly and she stayed at his side, doubling their size against the ebb and flow of the crowd.
He’d dined with her every night for the last three nights since the boy had been recovered from the sunken wreck, but she’d never come this close to him in all that time. Their conversations had been good, of experiences and humor, but she’d never asked him what his real name was or why he was in hiding. Each night, after each meal, it became harder not to tell her, harder not to remove the lie that existed between them, but the tattoo branded him as a pirate. He felt certain she’d never be able to accept that, especially since it had been his father who’d killed her brother. For the moment, he enjoyed the warmth of her fingers against his arm even with the sweltering heat that assailed them.
The sailors looked up at her approach.
“Hail and well met,” she addressed them.
“Hail and well met, lady,” a white-haired sailor in Amnian dress responded. He touched the tips of his fingers to the triangle of copper coins attached to his blue turban. His beard was white like his hair, and so was the fierce mustache that flared straight out at the sides.
“You’ve news of Waterdeep?” Sabyna said.
“Aye,” the sailor replied, “but only bad news, I’m afraid. You’re from there?”
“No. I’m Sabyna, ship’s mage of Breezerunner, helmed by Captain Tynnel. We’ve traded there and I have a few friends who live there.”
One of the other sailors glanced at the old one. “Breezerunner’s a good ship, Narik. Heard of her. And her captain’s a good man.”
Narik nodded. His rheumy eyes regarded Sabyna, then flicked over Jherek. “Are you bound, then, to Waterdeep, lady?”
“Not on this trip,” Sabyna said. “We’re only going as far north as Baldur’s Gate.”
“Tell your captain what I tell you. There’ll be plenty of gold for a man willing to take his ship into Waterdeep for the next few months. If he’s willing to chance the risk to his life and ship.”
“He’ll probably already know,” she said, “but tell me why.”
“You’ve heard nothing?” Narik asked.
Sabyna shook her head. “We only got into the harbor this morning. We were becalmed for a time since leaving Velen.”
“Waterdeep was invaded,” Narik said.
“By who?” Jherek asked.
He remembered the City of Splendors from the trips he’d taken there with Finaren. During his visits he’d never been daring enough to go very deeply into the city. Most of Butterfly’s crew had their usual haunts along the Dock Ward, rarely venturing out of the festhalls and taverns, places where Jherek had never felt overly comfortable. He’d spent mornings in Butterfly’s rigging just watching the sun come up behind the towering mountain where Castle Waterdeep stood. As tall as the mountain was, the shadow of the heights hung over the harbor long after the sun rose in the morning. Sunlight came into the coast from the water as the sun climbed, making it look like the morning light came in on the tide.
“The sahuagin. There were thousands of them, over a month ago at the end of Fleetswake, and they got into Waterdeep Harbor before the guard knew it. Her navy proved no defense against the invaders’ forces.”
“What forces? Ships?” Jherek asked. He’d watched the Waterdhavian Guard on maneuvers. Very few crews could hold a candle to what they could do with their rakers, and that wasn’t even taking into account the other defenses that lined the city’s shores.
“Oh, the sea devils had no few of those,” Narik confirmed.
“From the stories I’ve heard, the sahuagin had captured fifteen or twenty vessels, then sailed them right into the harbor slick as the snot from a dung-eating camel,” another man stated.
“The guard would have caught that,” Jherek objected.
“They didn’t, boy,” the man said testily, one hard knuckled hand fisting on the curved dagger in his wa
ist sash.
“Sorcery was involved,” Narik said, soothing his comrade’s temper. “We know that for sure. Besides the guard missing those ships full of sahuagin, a storm summoned by some sorcerous intent whipped over the Dock Ward and tore down a number of buildings.”
“Aye,” a black sailor interrupted. “I heard Arnagus the Shipwright even lost a vessel that he was building in dry dock when the water lifted it out to the harbor. I’ve been told the waves were twenty and thirty feet tall.”
“The sahuagin don’t have anything to do with sorcery,” Sabyna pointed out.
“Well, they did this night,” Narik told her. “In addition to the thousands of sahuagin and the storm, there were all manner of sea creatures who fought side by side with the sea devils.”
“How was that possible?” Jherek asked.
“That’s what the mages in Waterdeep are asking right now,” the sailor answered. “The city’s properly defended and warded, but that attack, even with the extra manpower in port, was disastrous.”
“Does Waterdeep still stand?” Sabyna asked.
“Aye,” Narik replied. “By the grace of the gods and the strength of Lord Piergeiron’s arm, and Maskar Wands’s and Khelben Arunsun’s magic. Many lives were lost, but the sahuagin were turned. In the meantime, shipping’s all but stopped coming out of Waterdeep. Merchants are sitting in the ruins of the Dock Ward offering princely sums for any ship that would take their goods out. The only news we’ve got out of there has been from caravans traveling overland.”
“In part, most cargo captains fear the return of the sahuagin,” a skinny sailor with a wandering eye said, “and they have been responsible for bringing a few ships down. They sail those cursed mantas and attack any ship alone at sea.”
Jherek remembered the sahuagin attack on Butterfly, feeling a chill rattle through him now that he knew that assault had been part of a larger agenda.
“Most cargo ships don’t carry a crew big enough to repel a manta complement of sahuagin,” the sailor with the wandering eye went on. “I’ve heard they’ve taken twenty ships over the last five days, and mayhap more than that since these stories were given only by survivors of attacks.”
“The sahuagin haven’t ever meant to leave survivors,” Narik said, “not unless they were planning on torturing them later.”
Jherek couldn’t believe the numbers of ships the sailors were talking about, or the fact that the sahuagin were acting together so well. For the moment, he forgot his own problems, forgot even that Sabyna had not taken her hand from his arm. His mind wandered, wrestling with the problem of how the attack had taken place and what it must have been like to be there. He wished Malorrie was there to talk to. Though Madame Iitaar was familiar with history and battles and even politics, Malorrie relished in such discussions. He silently wished he’d been there, able to lend his blade to Waterdeep’s defense.
“What the sea devils haven’t claimed,” Narik went on, “the pirates have. They seem to have gathered in the Nelanther and decided that Waterdeep’s ill luck was their good fortune. They’ve taken a dozen and more ships that we know of that’s been bound in either direction in the Sea of Swords.”
“That’s why there are so many fighting men gathered in Athkatla today,” the black sailor said. “The festhalls and taverns are filled with mercenaries and sellswords waiting to be picked up by captains who’re courageous enough to brave the waters north of here.”
“Lady,” Narik said, “if you’re bound to Baldur’s Gate, talk to your captain if he hasn’t already heard. Those are dangerous waters these times. There are some tongues wagging that during Fleetswake in Waterdeep that someone tried to rob Umberlee’s Cache and all of this is part of a curse the Bitch Queen has put on Waterdeep.”
“They blame the actions of the sahuagin as well on her?” Sabyna asked.
Narik shrugged and said, “Lady, who else could summon up storms and cause the sea creatures that were seen in the invasion of Waterdeep to align themselves with the sea devils? Many sailors have seen Umberlee’s hand in this. There’s no other explanation.”
Sabyna thanked them for the news, then headed out of the marketplace, threading through the large crowds.
“We’ve got to find Tynnel,” she said to Jherek. “I’m sure he already knows, but if he doesn’t, he needs to know now, and we need to make plans for the trip to Baldur’s Gate. If we’re going to make it at all.”
“Aye,” Jherek replied.
An eagerness moved through him, though, along with the fear. Memory of the pirate-stricken vessel they’d found the boy in filled his mind. He wasn’t afraid for himself, but for the pretty ship’s mage.
“You try the festhalls and taverns,” she went on as they exited the marketplace and walked out onto the street beyond, “while I try the mercantile houses where we normally do business. We’ll meet back on Breezerunner.”
“As you wish,” he told her.
She turned and gave him a fleeting smile, but it didn’t quite touch the worry he saw in her eyes. “Be safe,” she said, “until I see you again.” She gave his arm a final squeeze, letting him know she’d been aware of the prolonged contact as well, then hurried across the busy street.
Jherek stood and watched her, admiring the smooth roll of muscle shown by her breeches and the easy way that she moved, not showing much of a sailor’s rolling gait when on land. Apprehension flared through him, though, when she disappeared from sight down an alley leading deeper into the Amnian city. It was like a small, cold voice had whispered that he’d never see her again.
He almost went after her then, but he stopped himself. He’d given his word he’d try to find the captain. He turned and went down the street toward the docks where the festhalls and taverns thrived.
XXIV
7 Tarsakh, the Year of the Gauntlet
“We need to make another attack.”
Huaanton regarded Iakhovas silently after the statement. The sahuagin king’s stance made it clear to Laaqueel that that wasn’t something he wanted to hear.
The malenti waited tensely, knowing Iakhovas should have reacted to the king’s unspoken displeasure. For the last twelve years he’d lived among them as one of their own and the wizard knew enough to recognize the body language. By rights, he should have avoided eye contact at any cost and perhaps even swum up over Huaanton’s head, baring his midriff to possible attack as a rebuke and a show of his loyalty.
Iakhovas merely stood there, his back to one of the four thick crystal windows that peered out over the sahuagin city in the chasm. In fact, he not only appeared unrepentant but mutinous, and Laaqueel was certain that attitude ran over into the illusion he wore for the king.
Huaanton’s throne room and audience chamber was huge. Thousands of years had gone into the planning and construction of it. Made of limestone blocks each over an arm span wide and more than that tall, the sahuagin castle looked like another bump on the canyon wall from the outside. It was seven stories tall inside, the lower three sunk into the ledge of outthrust rock spurring from the chasm side, and the other four looking like a natural rock projection.
The throne room was on the second floor down, below Huaanton’s personal quarters and treasury. A massive throne carved from whale bone in the shape of a shark leaping from the water with its jaws distended occupied one end of the room. The open mouth contained the seat, large enough even for Huaanton’s massive girth.
Images of sharks and sahuagin were cut in bas-relief on the limestone blocks of the walls. The largest stones depicted battles from sahuagin history, myth interwoven with truth until it was all memory. The largest piece, on the opposite end of the room from the throne, showed the meeting of the sahuagin and Sekolah, whom they chose as their god.
The carving of Sekolah, the Great Shark, held a shell in his teeth, shaking it. Tiny sahuagin finned away from him in all directions, coming from the shell. According to history, Sekolah had been victorious in chosen battle against a behemoth of the deep. The
Great Shark had gone forth, singing his song of joy and been pleasantly surprised to hear other voices singing back to him. The shell containing the sahuagin had floated up to him on a spray of bubbles, drawn by the joy coming from Sekolah. Once the Great Shark had spread them across the sea, the sahuagin had prospered and multiplied even further.
“More than two thousand sahuagin died in the attack on Waterdeep,” Huaanton stated.
“Easily twice that many surface dwellers perished,” Iakhovas said. “The sahuagin who died served their purpose in killing the enemy, but they were weak. The strong members of our people came back from that war, and our race will be the stronger for it. The next hatchlings will all be of true warriors’ blood, a legacy wrought by the testing of our mettle in battle.”
Huaanton’s magnetic black gaze pinned Iakhovas, but the wizard didn’t flinch from the eye contact.
Laaqueel silently prayed that Iakhovas wouldn’t overstep his bounds. If he did, he’d bring swift and certain death down on them both. Twenty sahuagin guards ranged around them, their faces impassive, but the malenti knew they’d act at once if their king rightfully called them into action.
“They died,” Huaanton agreed, “and by that proved they were inadequate to survive, but another strike against the surface dwellers right now might not be the wisest thing we could do.”
“Would you have them think they’ve broken the sahuagin spirit?” Iakhovas asked.
Laaqueel respected the wizard’s ability to choose his words well. They were borderline on accusing Huaanton of cowardice, but they were presented so that the perception was on the part of the surface dwellers, not Iakhovas.
