The Reaver

by Richard Lee Byers

  “How’s that?”

  “Nothing.” He raised the spyglass and scanned the seas before them, meanwhile reflecting that truth was overrated. He and Umara had only been indulging in it for a few breaths, and, ridiculously, here it was already trying to rekindle regrets grown cold long ago.

  He didn’t see any ships, Thayan or otherwise. When he lowered the telescope and turned back around, it annoyed him a little that the wizard appeared to be studying him. But if her scrutiny had afforded any insights, she didn’t see fit to remark on them.

  Rather, she simply said, “If you and Captain Greatorm get me back aboard the galley, I’ll see to it that Kymas pays you for your trouble. It won’t be a fortune like Evendur Highcastle’s bounty.” She smiled a crooked smile. “As you’ve already observed, my master plainly doesn’t consider me indispensable. But I am a Red Wizard of Thay, and it will be something.”

  He wondered if she truly believed he’d settle for that. She might if she didn’t know his reputation for boldness and relentless pursuit of an objective. But even if she didn’t believe it, the suggestion was a reasonable tactic given that, landlubber that she was, she needed Anton and Falrinn to sail the boat. Better, then, to come to a false accord now and defer a fight until they caught up with the other Thayans.

  And, Anton realized, pretending to agree to her offer now and saving hostilities for later made just as much sense for him. She knew what Kymas’s ship looked like. He didn’t. Her magic might prove useful as they pursued it. And if she truly did believe he was willing to settle for whatever payment Kymas might offer, she’d presumably prevail on her superior to welcome him aboard the Thayan ship, which should simplify the task of spiriting Stedd off it.

  He sighed with what he hoped was a convincing imitation of resignation. “Whatever your master is willing to pay for you, I suppose it will have to do.”

  Throughout the morning, a favorable wind carried them eastward. Meanwhile, fiddling with his various mechanisms, Falrinn repeatedly trimmed the sails and reset the rudder. Umara, whose curiosity apparently outweighed any tendency to aristocratic aloofness, alternately pestered the gnome with questions about his innovations and sought to make conversation with her fellow human.

  For his part, Anton found that he didn’t much mind the distraction. Trustworthy or not—almost certainly not—she was pleasant enough to talk to. Perhaps it was because she had manners and an education, even though acquired in her sinister necromantic homeland, and it had been a long while since he’d conversed with a lady. Generally, the reaver’s life restricted his choice of womanly companions to festhall bawds and female pirates as coarse as … well, he supposed, as coarse as he himself was.

  He pointed out landmarks when the mainland became visible, despite the grayness and the rain, and taught Umara to fish with trailing lines. They grilled the sea bass and dolphinfish they caught, and ate them at dusk.

  Afterward, they returned to the bow and Anton peered out into the moonless, starless blackness hoping to spot another vessel’s lanterns. Sitting beside him, Umara asked, “Why do you even need to chase Stedd?”

  Anton snorted. “I thought we covered that. For the coin.”

  “But why do you need any more treasure?” She tugged her hood down in an effort to keep the rain out of her face. “I mean, I know why my family has a proud name and little else. The great War of the Zulkirs devastated much of Thay, and it certainly blighted our land. And in the decades since, Szass Tam hasn’t much concerned himself with providing opportunities for folk who are still alive. But you …”

  “But I’m Anton Marivaldi. The madman who plundered the spice fleet out of Telflamm. The fiend who burned the harbor at Delthuntle. Why is it I’m not already rich as a merchant prince and long retired from the sea?”

  “Well … I wasn’t going to say ‘madman’ or ‘fiend.’ But yes.”

  He shook his head. “It’s a good question. Somehow, the coin and gems always run through my fingers in a heartbeat. Cormyr could fight Sembia for a year on the treasure I’ve squandered standing drinks for taverns full of rogues who’d knife me for a shaved copper. Maybe it’s because I can’t imagine going away and living a different life.”

  “Is being a pirate truly all that grand?”

  He thought about it. “No. Not really. But it’s what there is. For me.”

  Her tone wistful, Umara said, “I can understand that.”

  The sailboat bucked almost like a horse as it met the waves, but as she gazed into the dark and the rain, Umara no longer feared being bounced around on her bench or, worse, being bounced overboard. After several days at sea, she was accustomed to the motion of the vessel.

  In fact, she was surprised at how relaxed she was in general. At first, a mage’s disciplined patience notwithstanding, she’d experienced bouts of frustration that a galley that had left port only shortly before Falrinn’s sailboat should prove so elusive. But it wasn’t long before impatience faded, and resignation that actually felt rather peaceful took its place.

  She supposed it was because there was nothing she could do to influence the outcome of events. She needed to rejoin Kymas and participate in the final phase of their mission. It was both her duty and the only way she’d receive any measure of the credit for its successful completion. But Falrinn and Anton were the mariners, not she, and they’d catch the galley when they caught it. Meanwhile, for essentially the first time since the start of her adolescence, she had no responsibilities and no walking dead man of a teacher or superior ordering her around. Certainly, her two current companions made for pleasanter company, and she hoped she wouldn’t have to kill them when her time aboard the sailboat came to an end.

  Falrinn, she thought, might well be content to accept whatever payment Kymas was willing to offer and go away. The gnome was a practical sort. Anton, however, had a reputation for recklessness, and that accorded with her own impression of him. He might well make another play for Stedd no matter what the odds against him.

  She told herself that if he did, he would have only his own stubborn folly to blame for what ensued, but that didn’t make her feel any happier about the prospect. Frowning, she resolved to think about something else, and then a point of orange light appeared and disappeared in the darkness off the port bow, like a firefly that had only chosen to glow once.

  But a ship’s lanterns wouldn’t blink. They’d shine steadily. Uncertain whether she’d seen something real or just a trick of the night, she leaned forward and peered intently.

  For several breaths, nothing happened. She decided she had been mistaken and started to settle herself more comfortably. Then light pulsed again, but a different light, a hair-thin, crooked white line accompanied by a tiny snap like the crack of a distant whip.

  Now Umara knew what she was seeing. “Come here!” she called.

  Falrinn had been snoring in the shelter amidships, and Anton had been dozing beside the rudder. They both stood up and made their way into the bow.

  “What do you see?” the pirate asked.

  “Nothing now,” Umara asked. “But somewhere ahead of us, a wizard threw a blast of flame and followed it up with a thunderbolt.”

  “I assume,” Anton said, “that Kymas Nahpret has those spells in his repertoire.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we’re finally catching up with him. Good.”

  Falrinn spat over the side. “He wouldn’t be throwing battle magic unless somebody else had caught up with him, too.”

  Anton smiled. “Don’t tell me the Inner Sea’s cleverest smuggler is afraid of a little scrap.”

  “Smuggling’s not like piracy. Pirates make trouble, smugglers avoid it. But I’ll get us close enough to see what all the fuss is about. You two keep watch.” The gnome made a minute adjustment to the headsail, then went to trim the mainsail.

  Umara waited. Nothing else flickered in the blackness ahead. After a time, she said, “There truly were spells discharging. I may not be a sailor, but I know magic when I
see it.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Anton replied.

  “So why aren’t we seeing any more of it?” Umara asked.

  “It’s possible,” the reaver said, “that a fiery blast and a bolt of lightning were enough to scare off or even destroy an enemy vessel. Or that Kymas discovered it’s still out of range, and now he’s conserving his power. Or that an enemy archer shot back at him and took him out of the fight.”

  “That last is doubtful,” she said.

  “Why?” Anton asked.

  Umara belatedly remembered she hadn’t told Anton that Kymas was a vampire. His ignorance on that particular point might hinder him if he did try to steal Stedd, and in any case, she preferred he have no reason to suspect she herself was occasionally obliged to submit to such a creature’s embrace. She didn’t want the pirate imagining her in that degraded attitude.

  “If there was any danger from bowmen,” she replied, “Kymas likely would have armored himself with enchantment.”

  “Ah.”

  “How long, do you think, before we get close enough to know what’s really happening?”

  Anton shrugged. “Obviously, I can’t know when I’m not even the one who saw the flashes, but perhaps a long while yet. Maybe not even until after daybreak.”

  “If it takes that long, the fight will definitely be over.”

  “Not necessarily. Ships can maneuver and chase each other around for ridiculous amounts of time before they start fighting in earnest. I’ve spent some of the most tedious days of my life just standing on a deck waiting for a battle to start.”

  But Umara didn’t find the watching and waiting tedious. She strained her eyes peering, and pictured all the situations she might discover when the sailboat finally drew close enough. Surely, given Kymas’s supernatural might and the mettle of the marines in his service, the galley would prevail in a sea battle. Yet what if it didn’t?

  She imagined the broken vessel sinking and carrying Stedd down with it, and the mental picture made her wince. It would be a sad, ugly way for the boy to die.

  Then, scowling, she pushed the soft, foolish thought away. Stedd was fated to die no matter what. It was her task to make certain that his death was useful, to her monarch, her master, and herself.

  After a while, she and Anton both spotted another wink of red-orange fire. He called out, “Two points to starboard!” Falrinn adjusted the rudder and cold rain drummed on the deck.

  Sometime after that, the eastern sky started lightening, revealing massed gray thunderheads like floating mountains. Beneath them, still far apart and small with distance, Kymas’s galley and a caravel emerged from the falling sheets of rain and the gloom. Umara frowned because it appeared her master was running from that one lone ship and it was giving chase. Given equal odds, she would have expected the undead wizard to seek battle as quickly as possible, before daybreak drove him under cover.

  Something else surprised her, too. The caravel’s sails bellied with the same blustery westerly that was blowing Falrinn’s sailboat along. But the crew aboard the galley had taken down her sails and were relying on the churning oars for propulsion.

  “By the fork,” Anton murmured, “that’s the Iron Jest.”

  “Your ship?” Umara asked. He’d told her the story of his mutinous crew.

  Falrinn came scurrying forward. “When did the Jest acquire a weather worker?” he asked.

  Anton shook his head. “When I took my leave of her, she didn’t have one.”

  “Well, she does now,” said the gnome. “He’s stolen the wind from the galley. If not for the rowers, she wouldn’t be making any headway.

  As it is, I judge she’s struggling against an unnatural current.”

  “It looks that way to me, too,” Anton said.

  Umara had no idea how her companions could tell, but she didn’t doubt they were right, and proof that there was some manner of spellcaster aboard the Iron Jest came just a moment later. Making use of the time remaining to him, Kymas hurled a spark at the pirate vessel that roared into a burst of yellow fire when it struck the bow. Despite the rain, the forecastle caught fire. But at once, water leaped up from the surface of the sea, washed across the bow of the caravel, and extinguished the blaze.

  Moments later, the water beneath the galley heaved, lifting it high and dropping it back down. A sailor fell overboard. Oars snagged on one another, a couple snapping, and in the wallowing aftermath, some rowers made haste to free the tangled ones and jettison the broken stubs for replacements, but others remained stationary. The zombie oarsmen, Umara realized, couldn’t take the initiative to perform that or any task. Someone needed to command them.

  “The Thayans,” Falrinn called from the stern, “are lucky the sea mage hasn’t just sunk them outright. It looks like he’s got the power.”

  “He won’t,” Anton shouted back. “The church of Umberlee wants Stedd alive. He’s risking flinging the boy overboard as it is, but he’s probably right that Kymas has him stowed securely.” He turned to Umara. “So in the end, it’s apt to come down to grappling hooks, boarding pikes, and cutlasses, and with both ships locked together, tricks with the wind and the waves won’t be useful anymore. Can your people hold their own in a fair fight?”

  Possibly not. Not if Kymas had already shut himself away and the pirates’ wizard had any useful spells left for the casting. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Kymas may have used up most of his power already. We should help them if we can.”

  Help? For a moment, Anton wasn’t sure what to make of the idea, for by any sane estimation, both his former crew and the Thayans were rivals trying to abscond with the prize that was rightfully his. So why risk his own life aiding anybody?

  Because he was in the straits. Pirate Isle was just a day or two away, while Thay was still hundreds of miles to the east. So if Umara and her folk ended up with boy, he’d have more time to work out a way to steal him.

  Besides, he had a score to settle with Naraxes and the other mutineers.

  He grinned at the Red Wizard. “I’ll be honored to assist if I can.” He looked back at Falrinn. “Let’s catch up to the galley.”

  “Sail my little boat into the middle of a fight between two warships?” the gnome replied. “Aye, Captain! When ice burns and wolves play the whistlecane.”

  “Come on! It’ll be fun.”

  “Why don’t you should swim over? That will be even more fun.”

  The muscles in Anton’s neck tightened. Falrinn was being entirely sensible, but that didn’t make his recalcitrance any less frustrating. “My old friend—”

  Umara touched Anton on the arm. Surprised, he fell silent.

  The mage then smiled at Falrinn. “What if we were invisible?” she asked.

  The gnome scowled, considering. “Well, no one aboard the Iron Jest would throw spells or shoot crossbow bolts at us. But can you hide the whole boat?”

  “I think so. I have a knack for concealment and illusions.”

  Falrinn shrugged. “If it works, I suppose I’m game.”

  Umara took a long breath. Anton assumed she was clearing her head. She started to speak, and then a notion popped into his head.

  “Wait,” he said. “Suppose we do get aboard the galley. Are you certain you’ll then be able to out-spell the weather worker?”

  The Red Wizard frowned. “No. How could I be? But I have to try.”

  “Maybe not. Not if you can wrap you and me in invisibility that lasts even after we leave the sailboat.” He looked down the length of the vessel. “Not if Falrinn can take us to the Jest instead of your ship.”

  “I can,” said the gnome, “but the idea is stupid.”

  Anton grinned. “Probably. But I have a plan.” He turned back to Umara. “Would you like a tour of the proud vessel I once commanded?”

  She smiled. “Why not?”

  Anton retrieved his saber from under the shelter, and Falrinn hastily trimmed the sails. Eyes closed, Umara raised her hands over her head and recite
d words that somehow echoed even without any walls to bounce off. A scent like that of lilies suffused the air.

  Then the entire sailboat and those aboard it faded from view. Anton laughed.

  Falrinn, however, cursed. “You didn’t warn me I wouldn’t be able to see us, either! How am I supposed to pilot the boat?”

  “By touch,” Anton answered. “If you can’t do it, you’re not the sailor I always took you to be.”

  Still swearing, the gnome stamped around the deck. Ratchets clacked as he made further adjustments to the sails. Meanwhile, Anton took stock of just how hidden they were.

  Plainly, the concealment was less than total. The boat’s wake extended behind it, and a keen eye could make out the rain splashing against surfaces that were themselves invisible. But in the feeble light of an overcast dawn, with everyone aboard the Iron Jest intent on the galley ahead of them as opposed to anything astern, it should suffice.

  Once Anton determined that, he had nothing to do but wait while the sailboat made its approach. Fortunately, the smaller, lighter vessel was faster than its quarry, and, still growling obscenities from time to time, Falrinn was managing it with a deftness that justified Anton’s faith in him.

  When they were racing along beside the caravel’s stern, the smuggler said, “This is as close as I can get.”

  “How do we cross over?” Umara asked.

  “You’re a mage,” Anton said. “I hoped you’d have a way.”

  She laughed. “As planners go, you aren’t as impressive as you could be.” She recited another rhyme, and for a moment, he felt like mites were crawling on his skin.

  Then a line trailing from the Jest lifted itself up out of the water and snaked through the air in his direction. He caught it, and then it slumped in his hand, lifeless as any other rope.

  “Have you got hold of it, too?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Umara answered.

  “Then here we go.” He jumped over the side, and she, presumably, did the same.