by Mel Odom
Iakhovas smiled down at her. “That’s what I said, little malenti. You didn’t know. You believed. I only ask you to believe now.” He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet.
Laaqueel regained control over her emotions with effort. Despite the fact that she wanted him to be wrong, Iakhovas was right. Belief was all she had in her life.
“I am the source of your greatest strength, little malenti,” he told her softly. “I shall push you and goad you and shape you into your belief. Because I, by my very nature and the things we must accomplish together, will strip away everything in you that does not believe. Every weakness in you will be worn away by my actions, by the things Sekolah would have us accomplish. Your doubt shall forge us both into our destiny. Mark you that I only mentioned one such destiny. We shall arrive there together, and it will be glorious.”
It was so easy to believe his words, but she had no choice really. What was she without her belief? She had the gifts Sekolah had given her, powers that no male sahuagin would ever know. What was there to doubt, except the man who stood before her?
He reached for her, touching her cheek with the back of his hand. It felt smooth and strong, and she found herself drawing away out of embarrassment. The feeling wasn’t just out of the familiarity with which he chose to approach her, but because of the feeling his touch stirred within her.
“Ah, little malenti, you find the hungers of the alien flesh you wear have awakened.” Iakhovas smiled darkly. “Bloody Falkane must have had quite an effect on you.”
“What do you want?” she asked.
“From you, little malenti? Only your assistance. I find myself invulnerable to the charms you possess. Unlike Bloody Falkane, I find myself in no need of a spy within my ranks.”
“I don’t think his interest was purely for those reasons. He has loathsome habits.”
“His reasons, whatever they are, I can guarantee you are anything but pure. So beware his charms, little malenti, because I’m told they’re quite considerable.”
Angry and embarrassed, Laaqueel turned away.
“Now I’ve offended you.”
“No.”
“You can’t hide your true feelings from me. You should know that by now.” Iakhovas spoke a word.
Instantly, the ship disappeared beneath them and Laaqueel dropped into the ocean. The water closed over her, taking her down and holding her close, the truest and only companion she’d ever known.
Across from her, Iakhovas caught the ship-in-the-bottle again and swam down. “Let’s go check on my navy, little malenti. I’ve got an invasion to get underway.”
XXI
19 Kythorn, the Year of the Gauntlet
“Something I can help you with, boy?”
Jherek bridled at the man’s tone but calmed himself quickly. Emotion wasn’t going to get him any closer to his objective. “I’m looking for someone.”
The bartender set down a mostly clean glass and picked up another one, treating it to a quick bath in the dirty water in front of him, then drying it with the threadbare towel over his shoulder. He was broad and thick, with muscle that had marbled to fat over the years. A long gray fringe surrounded his gleaming pate, and an axe blade scar dented his forehead.
Behind him on the wall were rows of bottles containing different colored liquids. Two tapped ale kegs lay on their sides on rolling carts, and gruesomely displayed above them were seven koalinth heads. They’d been poorly mounted, and the piggish faces and floppy ears of the marine hobgoblins wrinkled and stretched hideously. The light green skin flaked off in several patches.
“This someone’s got to have a name before I can help you,” the bartender said. “That’s how it usually works best.”
Jherek flushed with embarrassment. Subterfuge was something new to him and he wasn’t very good at it. He guessed he’d about strained his limit while keeping his identity secret from Glawinn and Sabyna.
“He calls himself Vurgrom,” the young sailor said. “Vurgrom the Mighty.”
The bartender looked at Jherek thoughtfully. He picked up a wooden splinter from the counter and worked it between his teeth for a moment. He never blinked.
Jherek met the man’s level gaze, knowing he and his companions were in danger.
The Bent Mermaid had the reputation of being one of the worst taverns in Westgate—both in provender and clientele. It stood three stories tall and looked out over the neck of the Lake of Dragons. Docks stabbed long fingers out into the sea and ships from a dozen and more countries occupied the slips and stood at anchor out in the harbor.
“What business do you have with Vurgrom?” the bartender asked.
“Personal,” Jherek said.
The bartender looked over the young sailor’s shoulder. “Him too?”
Without glancing back, Jherek knew the man was talking about Glawinn. The knight stood out in the dark den of the tavern. When he’d first entered, sailors standing close to the paladin had drawn back and found other tables and places to stand.
“Aye,” Jherek answered.
The bartender shook his head. “Don’t know no Vurgrom.”
Jherek looked the man in the face, hard, knowing it was a lie. “We were told he’d be here.”
“By who?”
Jherek ignored the question. The old sailor who’d given them the information had no love for the pirate leader. “We were told Vurgrom arrived here three days ago.”
According to the old sailor, the pirate captain had taken a ship in from the River Tun, sailing in from the Storm Horn Mountains while Jherek and his companions had been forced to cross the distance overland.
“Somebody told you wrong,” the bartender said.
Anger flared through Jherek. The journey had been hard and made even harder by the tension that seemed to exist between Sabyna and him. Glawinn had noticed it, the young sailor had been sure, but had refrained from making comment.
The only times he’d really felt relaxed during the journey had been when he and the knight had practiced swordcraft. The young sailor had gotten sore from the daily exertion at first, but had quickly come up to speed, surprising the knight with his skill. Still, there were skills and tricks that Glawinn had taught him and continued to teach him.
“Malorrie.”
Jherek heard Sabyna’s voice at his side, then felt her touch upon his arm. “Aye, lady,” he said, turning to her because he didn’t want to be disrespectful.
“Leave it.”
The young sailor thought briefly of arguing. Returning the pearl disk was his task to accomplish, and no matter how she felt about helping him because of what he’d done for her, she obviously didn’t feel as strongly about it as he did. He knew the pirate was inside the tavern.
“Please,” the ship’s mage said in a soft voice. Her copper-colored eyes held his.
Jherek let out a deep breath. “Aye. I’m done here, anyway.”
“You going to be drinking anything?” the bartender asked.
“Not if I wiped those glasses myself,” Jherek told him, venting a little of the hostility he felt.
“Then you need to clear out of my tavern,” the man told him. “I got a rule about people coming in to take up tables and not spending any coin.”
“Do you have any rules about the clientele you serve?” Jherek asked. “I definitely see no scruples.” He was aware that his words drew the attention of a dozen men around the front of the bar.
The sailors shifted in their chairs, taking offense. Jherek didn’t feel badly because he knew no honest sailor would patronize the Bent Mermaid, but he was afraid for a moment he’d overstepped his bounds and endangered Sabyna recklessly.
Glawinn strode forward and glared harshly at the men. The paladin carried his shiny helm in the crook of his arm, but his hand rested casually on the hilt of his broadsword. “I’d not,” he said in a low, steady voice.
For a moment, the group of sailors held his gaze, then they turned away and hunkered back over their drinks.
“I on
ly got one rule,” the bartender said, deliberately looking Jherek from head to toe, making the young sailor aware of his shoddy appearance. “I don’t serve vagrants.”
The men who’d backed down from Glawinn laughed contemptuously, slapping the table. Jherek’s face flamed in embarrassment. Glawinn had offered clothing, but none of the knight’s fit the young sailor’s bigger frame. Jherek wished he had something clever to say, a cutting remark that heroes in the romances always seemed to have at the tips of their tongues, but he didn’t.
Sabyna tugged on his arm and he went, suddenly aware how she looked leading him away. Gently, he tried to disengage himself but she kept her grip fast. Glawinn covered their backs as she led them from the tavern. She didn’t stop until they were half a block away, standing at one of the railings overlooking the docks and cattle yards below.
“The man back there was lying,” Jherek said.
“Aye,” Sabyna answered. The wind blew her jaw-length copper tresses around her face. She had her arms crossed, standing an arm’s length away from him to create distance even though they were close. “And what were you going to do? Beat it out of him with a whole room full of men watching on?”
Feeling himself willing to visit some of his anger on her, Jherek got control of himself. “Lady,” he said softly, “I apologize for my behavior. You deserve my thanks. You probably saved me from making a serious mistake.”
“Yes,” Glawinn agreed, “she did.”
Jherek looked back at the Bent Mermaid, feeling angry at the obscene sign that hung so large and proudly over the door.
“Vurgrom is inside,” Sabyna asked. “He has ten men with him. They’re waiting on his ship, Maelstrom, to arrive.”
“How do you know that?”
The ship’s mage smiled. “I asked one of the serving girls. If you want to know something, ask someone who has the most reason to tell it. The bartender’s major profits are made from the pirates, but most of the girls despise Vurgrom and his ilk. None of the women work there very long. If you’ve been around taverns like the Bent Mermaid, you know that.”
“Aye,” Jherek said, feeling chagrined. He hadn’t been around taverns much, not good ones or bad ones, and not even the ones in Velen more than enough to be marginally social with Butterfly’s crew. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“It doesn’t make it any easier,” Sabyna said. “Vurgrom’s on the third floor and I was told he has it sealed off. He’s conducting some kind of business there.”
“What business?” Glawinn asked.
“The girl I talked to didn’t know.”
Jherek studied the building, feeling the anger in him dissipate as he recognized the new course of action open to him. “The building next to the tavern is as tall,” he pointed out.
“You’re thinking of crossing over to get Vurgrom now?” Sabyna asked.
“Aye,” Jherek answered and saw Glawinn smile.
* * * * *
“Do it,” he said.
Glawinn prayed to Lathander, gesturing Jherek to bend his head as well, then inscribed designs in the air. When the paladin finished, Jherek felt as though he’d suddenly gone deaf.
He looked up and tried to speak but no words came out.
The paladin shook his head and drew a hand across his throat, letting the young sailor know verbal communication was no longer possible. The spell even took away all the sounds coming from the docks, the pinging of rigging against masts, shouted commands, and the slap of the surf against the shore and pilings. Glawinn waved toward the other building.
Gathering himself, Jherek leaped across the distance from the flophouse roof to the Bent Mermaid next door. When his feet hit, there was no sound at all. He turned and watched as the paladin, then the ship’s mage jumped across the distance as well. The roof trembled beneath his feet, but there was no noise.
He hunkered down and went around the roof to the harbor side. Clinging to the roof’s edge, forty feet above where the ocean smashed up against the side of the Bent Mermaid, he lowered himself and peered through the windows along the wall.
A dozen men sat around tables inside the large room that ran the length of the building’s harbor side. Pitchers of ale sat on tables burdened with platters of food. Jherek recognized Vurgrom at one end of the center table.
Confusion spread throughout the room as the pirates stood, each gesturing widely and trying to clear their throats. Jherek understood that Glawinn’s spell of silence was affecting the pirates as well, and he knew he had to act swiftly while surprise remained a possible weapon.
The young sailor glanced over his shoulder at Glawinn, finding the paladin in the process of knotting a climbing rope around the chimney sticking up from the center of the peaked roof. The knight gave it a final pull, then stood and nodded.
Without another word, Jherek flipped lithely over the roof’s edge, holding the rope in one hand, and grabbing on with the other as he dropped. He turned his downward momentum into an arc, holding tight with his hands, and drove his boots through the window in front of him. He followed the broken glass inward, releasing his hold and throwing himself forward to regain his balance.
There was no sound of the shattering glass, only the sight of it spinning away in shards. Jherek landed on one knee, drawing attention only from the men who were looking in his direction. They opened their mouths, probably shouting warnings, but no sound came forth.
Jherek pushed himself to his feet and filled his hands with the cutlass and hook at the same time Glawinn broke through another window and landed only a few feet away. The paladin swept the broadsword from its scabbard, and the room became a battlefield.
Jherek blocked a long sword with the cutlass, feeling the shock of the blades meeting but hearing none of the usual clangor. The pirate drew back quickly, seeking to draw the young sailor after him so one of his companions could slip behind him.
Instead, the young sailor swung his hook toward the floor, biting into the stained rug across the wooden floor but not the floor itself. He yanked hard, pulling the rug from under the other man and sending him tumbling back.
Sliding to the side, Jherek dodged a cutlass blow that would have taken his head from his shoulders. He set himself and turned again, cutting forward with his own cutlass and splitting the pirate’s chest open.
The mortally wounded man’s face writhed in a scream, but Glawinn’s spell blanked out the sound. The pirate dropped to his knees, trying to hold himself together.
Across the room, Vurgrom moved his huge bulk toward the only exit.
Already in motion again, Jherek sprinted to the nearest table. He blocked a sword thrust with the cutlass, turning it aside only inches from his leg. The young sailor threw himself into the air, skidding feet first across a buffet table and knocking dishes, food, and candelabras from it. He caught the table’s edge with the hook, tipping it over after him.
The table was big and heavy, a thick oaken slab that had been crafted well but not treated with respect. Still, it held up.
Sliding the hook around the side, Jherek caught the end of the table, then put all of his weight into the pull-then-push that sent it skidding across the floor toward the exit. Uninterrupted, the table slid in front of the door, blocking Vurgrom’s departure.
The pirate captain pulled the battle-axe from over his shoulder and slammed the bit into the table. The force split the table asunder and he kicked his way through the two halves. He yanked the door open and hurried out, obviously working on the theory that discretion was the better part of valor.
Jherek stood, glancing back at his companions. Glawinn, broadsword in one hand and shield in the other, held his own, staking out a whole corner of the room. One of the pirates rushed him, battle-axe held high. The paladin dropped slightly and stepped forward into the charging man. Catching him on his shield and avoiding the axe head as it came across with the intention of hooking onto the shield and pulling it away, Glawinn twisted and stood. The motion hurled the pirate through the smash
ed windows high over the harbor.
Sabyna’s knife flashed out, driving an opponent back. Her lack of formal training in swordplay held her back some, but her skill with her throwing knives was deadly. She blocked another sword slash and stepped inside the blow, then raked her blade across the man’s face. Blood flew as the pirate threw himself backward. At her side, the raggamoffyn swirled into a sudden mass of whirling cloth fragments and sped at another pirate.
Parrying a sword thrust, Glawinn screamed soundlessly at Jherek, yelling at him to go.
Hesitation held the young sailor only for a moment. He didn’t want to desert his friends, and didn’t like the idea of leaving Sabyna to fend for herself at all, but in the end if he didn’t reach his objective, he’d risked their lives for nothing.
A pirate came at him, sword splintering the afternoon light. Jherek parried with the hook, then brought the cutlass down onto the man’s head, splitting his skull. He kicked the dead man backward into another pirate, knocking them both clear of the door. At a dead run, the young sailor caught the doorway’s edge with the hook and pulled himself around it.
On the landing outside, Jherek peered over the railing and watched as Vurgrom bounded around the second story landing where the steps switched back the other direction. With the surefooted grace of a man used to navigating rigging in hostile winds and blinding, storm-driven rain, Jherek leaped over the edge and landed on the railing slanting down toward the second story.
When he hit, the wood cracked ominously and he knew it wasn’t going to hold him even as he realized he was past Glawinn’s arcane silence. He fell forward, caroming off the second story landing wall only a few feet behind Vurgrom. He heard voices then, people calling out to one another from the tavern proper downstairs.
A bare-breasted serving wench carrying a platter of food and a pitcher of ale cursed at Vurgrom as he went by, then she turned into Jherek. Already a victim of his downward momentum caused by the treacherous railing, Jherek couldn’t stop. He thought quickly enough to throw the cutlass and hook out to the sides so he didn’t endanger her, which left him going face first into her.
