Sea of Swords

by R. A. Salvatore

Chapter 4 THE BRAND

 

  Now, this was the kind of council meeting Regis of Lonelywood most enjoyed. The halfling sat back in his cushioned chair, hands folded behind his head, his cherubic face a mask of contentment, as the prisoners taken from the road south of Bremen were paraded before the councilors. Two were missing, one recovering (perhaps) from a newly placed crease in his chest, and the other - the woman whom the friends had believed to be the leader of the rogue band - held in another room to be brought in separately.

  "It must be wonderful having such mighty friends," Councilor Tamaroot of Easthaven, never a fan of the Lonelywood representative, said cynically and quietly in Regis's ear.

  "Those two," the halfling replied more loudly, so that the other three councilors on his side of the room certainly heard him. The halfling paused just long enough to ensure that he had the attention of all four, and of a couple of the five from across the way, as well as the attention of Elderman Cassius, then pointed to the two thugs he'd battled - or that he'd forced to battle each other. "I took them both, without aid," the halfling finished.

  Tamaroot bristled and sat back in his seat.

  Regis smoothed his curly brown locks and put his hands behind his head again. He could not contain his smile.

  After the introductions, and with no disputes from any of the others, Cassius imposed the expected sentence, "As you killed no one on the road - none that we know of, at least - so your own lives are not forfeit," he said.

  "Unless the wound Bruenor's axe carved into the missing one puts him down," the councilor from Caer-Konig, the youngest and often crudest of the group, piped in. Despite the poor taste of the remark, a bit of muffled chortling did sound about the decorated room.

  Cassius cleared his throat, a call for some solemnity. "But neither are your crimes dismissed," the elderman went on. "Thus you are indentured, for a period of ten years, to a boat of Councilor Kemp's choosing, to serve on the waters of Maer Dualdon. All of your catch shall be forfeited to the common fund of Ten-Towns, less Kemp's expenses for the boat and the guards, of course, and less only enough to see that you live in a measure of meager sustenance. That is the judgment of this council. Do you accept it?"

  "And what choice are we given?" said one of the thugs, the large man Catti-brie had overwhelmed.

  "More than you deserve," Kemp interjected before Cassius could reply. "Had you been captured by the Luskan authorities, you would have been paraded before Prisoner's Carnival and tortured to death in front of a screaming crowd of gleeful onlookers. We can arrange something similar, if that is your preference. "

  He looked to Cassius as he finished, and the elderman nodded his grim approval of the Targos councilor's imposing speech.

  "So which shall it be?" Cassius asked the group.

  The answer was rather predictable, and the grumbling group of men was paraded out of the room and out of Brynn Shander, on the way to Targos where their prison ship waited.

  As soon as they had gone, Cassius called for the cheers of the council, a salute to Regis and the others for a job well done.

  The halfling soaked it in.

  "And I fear we may need the group, the Companions of the Hall, yet again, and soon enough," Cassius explained a moment later, and he motioned to the chamber's door sentries. One exited and returned with Jule Pepper, who cut a regal figure indeed, despite her capture and imprisonment.

  Regis looked at her with a fair amount of respect. The tall woman's black hair shone, but no more than did her intelligent eyes. She stood straight, unbroken, as if this entire episode were no more than a nuisance, as if these pitiful creatures who had captured her could not really do anything long-lasting or devastating to her.

  The functional tunic and leggings she had worn on the road were gone now, replaced by a simple gray dress, sleeveless and, since it was too short for a woman of Jule's stature, worn low off the shoulder. It was a simple piece really, nearly formless, and yet, somehow, the woman beneath it managed to give it quite an alluring shape, bringing it down just enough to hint at her shapely and fairly large breasts. The dress was even torn on one side - Regis suspected that Jule had done that, and purposely - and through that slot, the woman did well to show one smooth and curvaceous leg.

  "Jule Pepper," Cassius said curiously, and with a hint of sarcasm. "Of the Pepper family of. . . ?"

  "Was I to be imprisoned in the name my parents chose for me?" the woman answered, her voice deep and resonant, and with a stiff eastern accent that seemed to shorten every word into a crisp, accentuated sound. "Am I not allowed to choose for myself the title I shall wear?"

  "That would be the custom," Cassius said dryly.

  "The custom of unremarkable people," Jule confidently replied. "The jewel sparkles, the pepper spices. " She ended with a devastating grin, one that had several of the councilors - ten males, including the elderman, and only one woman - shifting uneasily in their seats.

  Regis was no less flustered, but he tried to look beyond the impressive woman's obvious physical allure, taking even greater interest in Jule's manipulative cunning. She was one to be wary of, the halfling knew, and still, he could not deny he had more than a little curiosity about exploring this interesting creature more fully.

  "May I ask why I am being held here against my choice and free will?" the woman remarked a moment later, after the group had settled again, with one even tugging at his collar, as if to let some heat out of his burning body.

  Cassius snorted and waved a dismissive hand her way. "For crimes against Ten-Towns, obviously," he replied.

  "List them then," Jule demanded. "I have done nothing. "

  "Your band - " Cassius started to respond.

  "I have no band," Jule interrupted, her eyes flashing and narrowing. "I was on my way to Ten-Towns when I happened to cross paths with those rogues. I knew not who they were or why they were in that place at that time, but their fire was warm and their food acceptable, and any company seemed better than the murmuring of that endless wind. "

  "Ridiculous!" one of the councilors asserted. "You were speaking with them knowingly when the terrified pair returned to you - on the word of Drizzt Do'Urden himself, and I have come to trust in that dark elf!"

  "Indeed," another councilor agreed.

  "And pray tell me what I said, exactly," the woman answered, and her grin showed that she didn't fear any answers they might give. "I spoke to the fools knowingly about Drizzt and Catti-brie and Bruenor. Certainly, I am as versed on the subject as any wise person venturing to Icewind Dale would be. Did I not speak knowingly that the fools had done something stupid and had then been baited by the drow and his companions? No stretch of intelligence there, I would say. "

  The councilors began murmuring among themselves and Regis stared hard at Jule, his smile showing his respect for her cunning, if nothing else. He could tell already that with her devastating posture and shapeliness, combined with more than a measure of cunning and careful preparedness out on the road, she would likely slip through these bonds unscathed.

  And Regis, knew, too, whatever she might say, that this one, Jule Pepper, was the leader of the highwayman band.

  "We will discuss this matter," Cassius said soon after, the private conversations of the councilors escalating into heated debate, divisions becoming apparent.

  Jule smiled knowingly at Cassius. "Then I am free to go?"

  "You are invited to return to the room we have provided," the older and more comprehending elderman replied, and he waved to the guards.

  They came up on either side of Jule, who gave Cassius one last perfectly superior look and turned to leave, swaying her shoulders in exactly the right manner to again set off the sweat of the male councilors.

  Regis grinned at it all, thoroughly impressed, but his smile dropped into an open-mouthed stare a moment later, as Jule completed her turn, as he noticed a curious marking on the back of her right shoulder, a brand t
he halfling surely recognized.

  "Wait!" the halfling cried and he hopped up from his seat and ducked low to scramble under the table rather than take the time to go around it.

  The guards and Jule stopped, all turning about to regard the sudden commotion.

  "Turn back," the halfling instructed. "Turn back!" He waved his hand at Jule as he spoke, and the woman just stared at him incredulously, her gaze shifting from curiosity to withering.

  "Cassius, turn her back!" the halfling pleaded.

  Cassius looked at him with no less incredulity than had Jule.

  Regis didn't wait for him. The halfling ran up to Jule, grabbed her right arm and started pulling her around. She resisted for a moment, but the halfling, stronger than he appeared, gave a great tug that brought her around enough, briefly, to show the brand.

  "There!" Regis said, poking an accusing finger.

  Jule pulled away from him, but it was out now, the councilors all leaning in and Cassius coming forward, motioning for Jule to turn around, or for the guards to turn her if she didn't willingly comply.

  With a disgusted shake of her head, the raven-haired woman finally turned.

  Regis went up on a nearby chair to better see the brand, but he knew before the inspection that his keen eyes had not deceived him, that the brand on the woman's shoulder was of a design unique to Bruenor Battlehammer, and more than that, a marking Bruenor had used only once, on the side of Aegis-fang. Moreover, the brand was exactly the right size for the warhammer's marking, as if a heated Aegis-fang had been pressed against her skin.

  Regis nearly swooned. "Where did you get that?" he asked.

  "A rogue's mark," Cassius remarked. "Common enough, I'd say, for any guild. "

  "Not common," Regis answered, shaking his head. "Not that mark. "

  "You know it?" the elderman inquired.

  "My friends will speak with her," Regis answered. "At once. "

  "When we are done with her," Councilor Tamaroot insisted.

  "At once," Regis insisted, turning to face the man. "Else you, good Tamaroot, can explain to King Bruenor the delay when his adopted son's life may likely hang in the balance. "

  That brought a myriad of murmurs in the room.

  Jule Pepper just glared down at Regis, and he got the distinct feeling that she had little idea what he was talking about, little idea of the significance of the mark.

  For her sake, the halfling knew, that better be the truth of it.

  * * * * * * * * * * * *

  A few nights later, Drizzt found Bruenor atop a quiet and dark place called Bruenor's Climb, in the small rocky valley the dwarves mined to the northeast of Brynn Shander, between Maer Dualdon and the lake called Lac Dinneshire. Bruenor always had such private places as this, wherever he was, and he always named them Bruenor's Climb, as much to warn any intruders as out of any personal pride.

  This was the dwarfs spot for reflection, his quiet place where he could ponder things beyond the everyday trials and tribulations of his station in life. This was the one place where practical and earthy Bruenor, on dark nights, could let go of his bonds a bit, could let his spirit climb to some place higher than the imagination of a dwarf. This was where Bruenor could come to ponder the meaning of it all and the end of it all.

  Drizzt had found Bruenor up on his personal climb back at Mithral Hall, looking very much the same as he did now, when the yochlol had taken Wulfgar, when they had all believed that his adopted son was dead.

  Silent as the clouds flying beneath the stars, the drow walked up behind the dwarf and stood patiently.

  "Ye'd think losin' him a second time would've been easier," Bruenor remarked at length. "Especially since he'd been such an orc-kin afore he left us. "

  "You do not know that you have lost him," the drow reminded.

  "Ain't no mark in the world like it," Bruenor reasoned. "And the thief said she got it from a hammer's head. "

  Indeed, Jule had willingly surrendered much information to the imposing friends when they had spoken with her right after the confrontation in the council hall. She'd admitted that the brand was intentional, a marking given by a woman ship's captain. When pressed, Jule had admitted that this woman, Sheila Kree, was a pirate and that this particular brand was reserved by her for those most trusted within her small band.

  Drizzt felt great pity for his friend. He started to remark on the fact that Jule had stated that the only physically large members of the pirate band were a clan of ogres Sheila Kree kept for tacking and steering. Wulfgar had not fallen in with the dogs, apparently. The drow held back the remarks, though, because the other implication, a clear one if Wulfgar was not in league with the pirates, was even more dire.

  "Ye think this dog Kree killed me boy?" Bruenor asked, his thoughts obviously rolling along the same logic. "Or do ye think it was someone else, some dog who then sold the hammer to this one?"

  "I do not think Wulfgar is dead at all," Drizzt stated without hesitation.

  Bruenor turned a curious eye up at him.

  "Wulfgar may have sold the hammer," Drizzt remarked, and Bruenor's look became even more skeptical. "He denied his past when he ran away from us," the drow reminded. "Perhaps relieving himself of that hammer was a further step along the road he saw before him. "

  "Yeah, or maybe he just needed the coin," Bruenor said with such sarcasm that Drizzt let his argument die silently.

  In truth, the drow hadn't even convinced himself. He knew Wulfgar's bond with Aegis-fang, and knew the barbarian would no sooner willingly part with the warhammer than he would part with one of his own arms.

  "Then a theft," Drizzt said after a pause. "If Wulfgar went to Luskan or to Waterdeep, as we believe, then he would likely find himself in the company of thieves. "

  "In the company of murderers," Bruenor remarked, and he looked back up at the starry sky.

  "We can not know," Drizzt said to him quietly.

  The dwarf merely shrugged, and when his shoulders came back down from that action, they seemed to Drizzt lower than ever.

  The very next morning dark clouds rumbled up from the south off the winds of the Spine of the World, threatening to deluge the region with a torrent of rain that would turn the thawed ground into a quagmire. Still, Drizzt and Catti-brie set out from Ten-Towns, running fast for Luskan. Running fast for answers all four of the friends needed desperately to hear.