by Mel Odom
The ranger knew the thought-specter of his old mentor was exactly right.
“You will find Uziraff Fireblade at one of his usual haunts in the Moonshaes,” Golsway said. “He knows nothing of the elven ships that went down in the ocean somewhere near where the pictograph was found. He did not give me the location or the circumstance of how it was recovered. I did not want to tip my hand too early. But when you show up on his doorstep, he’s going to know.”
I have never liked that man, Xuxa said, making an unpleasant clucking noise. She had tapped into the thought bottle’s contents through her telepathic link to Baylee’s own mind.
Baylee only half-listened to the azmyth bat. In his mind he was already planning his meeting with Fireblade. He had no love for the man either, and was surprised that Golsway had even had anything to do with him. Uziraff Fireblade was a full-time pirate and part-time archeologist, learning just enough to let him know when he could demand extra money for the return of an object he “found.” Golsway had worked with the man in the past, but had never enjoyed the experience. Fireblade was a braggart, but he was an excellent swordsman with the twin cutlasses he carried.
“The trail won’t end there if you follow it carefully enough,” Golsway said. “But if it does, I’m sure what you can recover from the wreck will more than pay for itself. My only hope is that some of the books will survive in some form after all these years of being on the ocean floor.”
Baylee hoped so too. The thought of it almost made him too excited to sit there.
“And now,” Golsway said, “it is time for me to go. But before I do, I wish you Mystra’s favors in this endeavor or in any other that you choose to undertake. Take care, my son, and know that if I can, I shall watch over you.”
Golsway’s final words echoed in Baylee’s ears as the old mage faded from his view. He sat back in the booth, gazing at the silver flask in his hand.
The waiter brought his meal to the table, and he ate with more appetite than he expected. The pain over the loss of Golsway warred in him with the excitement of the elven ship sitting on the ocean floor awaiting his arrival.
The first thing we’re going to need to do, Baylee told Xuxa, is find a ship heading for the Moonshaes.
In these waters, the azmyth bat responded, that will be easy enough. Trade ships go back and forth all the time. Money and supplies are another matter.
Baylee finished his plate and pushed it away. He nursed the single glass of wine he’d taken with the big meal. I’ll go see Madonld, Golsway’s law-reader. If Golsway intended for me to make this expedition, he’d have left money for me. He gazed out at the green sea, wondering if he could book passage on a ship sailing this afternoon. He didn’t relish the idea of getting back out on the ocean. Even the short trip up the Sword Coast had tested his compatibility with sitting inert on a ship.
He left money on the table for the meal and the wine, including a large tip that would mark him as one of the men who frequented Nalkie’s. The tip would ensure that no one would remember seeing him in the establishment later, in case Cordyan Tsald and her men from the watch came looking. He took Xuxa back under his cloak.
Outside in the noon air, with a breeze coming in from the sea, everything smelled crisper, cleaner. He felt good, ready to be adventuring. Then he heard boot leather scrape on the road behind him.
We’ve been followed. Xuxa leapt from under Baylee’s cloak, taking wing and darting around him.
Baylee said nothing as he turned to confront the two sailors that stepped down from Nalkie’s porch behind him. He thought at first that he’d been mistaken, too paranoid for his own good. Then he spotted the weapons in their hands.
18
Enter.
Krystarn Fellhammer stepped through the wall and into the library. The fifteen drow left in her command stood in rank behind her, dropping out of view as the dimensional door spell eclipsed.
She felt tense as she went through the library stacks on either side of her, drawn by Folgrim Shallowsoul’s voice in her head. The stacks towered over her head in this wing of the great library, the spines and jackets crafted in fine woods and showing great artistry. She badly wanted to take one down, imagining how fine the wood grain must feel, only guessing at what it might contain.
“Two of the agents you recruited in Waterdeep have found Baylee Arnvold.” The lich’s physical voice sounded gravely and happy.
Krystarn’s stress did not alleviate. She knew the lich hadn’t called her into the library for a celebration. She took the next turn to the left, then walked up the circular stairs to the next floor landing.
Shallowsoul stood in a cul-de-sac of walls and windows that overlooked the section of the library Krystarn had just walked through. “There is a problem, however.” He gestured to the crystal ball on the short, narrow table before him where a book lay open atop a half dozen other books. The open one possessed a striking amethyst cover that looked cut from a huge, flawless stone. All of the pages appeared to have been cut from the same stone, sliced extremely thin. The writing was engraved on each page, complete with pictures.
“That’s good.” Krystarn ignored the small figures in the crystal ball on the table, concentrating on the loose stack of books, drawn into the puzzle of what the lich might be researching.
“No,” Shallowsoul snapped, “it isn’t.” He closed the amethyst book, then draped his robes over the collection of books.
Krystarn shifted her gaze to the crystal ball. “Why?”
“I need him alive.”
“Until now, you’ve needed him dead.” Krystarn met the lich’s gaze more bravely than she had in the past. Since the battle with the skeleton warriors, Shallowsoul had only seen her once. And then only to take from her the personal items she’d stolen from each of the agents she had hired in Waterdeep to look out for Baylee Arnvold.
“Things have changed.” The lich waved to the crystal ball. “The spell I had placed upon this ball’s tracking abilities let me know as soon as one of your lackeys had found the ranger.”
Krystarn had not known such a spell was possible. Scrying usually only entailed looking for, or at, a subject by the viewer, not having the ball do the work. Even more astounding was Shallowsoul’s claim that the ball could track more than one subject. She had employed nearly two dozen spies to search for Baylee Arnvold.
“When I knew they had found him,” the lich went on, “I watched them. He had with him a silver flask which I believe to be a bottle of thought.”
Krystarn was familiar with the magical item. “Who’s?”
“I don’t know. But this ranger has no one else with him, so I assume it’s from someone who knows about the library.”
“Fannt Golsway.”
“Yes,” Shallowsoul answered. “It would make sense that he would leave a message for his protégé.”
Krystarn peered more deeply into the crystal ball. “What would you have me do?” She did not recognize the two men closing in on Baylee Arnvold, having to take for granted that they were indeed men she’d employed.
“Speak to the doppleganger filth you have tracking the ranger. Tell them he is to be left alive.”
“How?” The fact that they were dopplegangers limited the names to a list of six.
“They will hear you.” Shallowsoul touched the ball with a talon. An amber glow clouded the glass, but didn’t dim the clarity of the image.
The lich’s instruction let Krystarn know the crystal ball was evidently one of Moredlin’s, able to transmit sound from the viewed location to the scryer, and from the scryer to the viewed location. She leaned forward, her breath fogging the amber-tinted crystal.
Xuxa took to wing at once and swooped toward one of the approaching sailors. The man’s cutlass whistled by only inches from the azmyth bat.
Baylee dodged a blow from the viciously twisted boat hook the other man held. The ranger stepped to the side, looking for a means of escape.
The sailor with the boat hook reset himself and
came again. His movements were precise and measured. Evidently he was a skilled fighter and no neophyte to actual battle. Baylee blocked the blow, slapping the back of his wrist against the man’s weapon forearm and using his strength and leverage to keep the arm from descending. The ranger threw a bunched fist into the sailor’s face, snapping his head back.
For a moment, the sailor’s face seemed to wobble, and the ears grew longer. He staggered back, his free hand across his nose and eyes.
Baylee recognized the long ears and twisted features for what they were. He had fought dopplegangers before. Xuxa.
I have seen, the azmyth bat replied. They are all foul, cowardly creatures.
But in nowise less dangerous, Baylee pointed out. He gave ground before the doppleganger as it came at him again. Xuxa tried to keep the second one occupied, and to get close enough to use her own unique powers to end that part of the battle. But her attacks took glide time to maneuver. As soon as she broke off, the second doppleganger joined the first in attacking Baylee.
Without warning, a feminine voice spoke from the very air around them. “Keep the ranger alive,” she said, “or you’ll know my wrath.”
“Alive?” the one with the cutlass argued. “But that was not the bargain.”
“The bargain has changed. Surely you, of anyone, would understand change.”
Baylee believed he recognized the voice as belonging to the drow woman. They had tracked him. The pursuit had not ended.
“It is all right, Zyzll,” the other doppleganger with the boat hook said. “She only needs him alive. Not of a whole piece. We’ll still take his arms and legs. And if need be,” he held up the cruel boat hook, “we can take his eyes as well.”
Seizing the moment, Baylee turned and fled. His action caught the dopplegangers by surprise, and he gained three good strides on them before they took up pursuit. The ranger headed for his mount tied up in front of Nalkie’s. He came up from behind it at a dead run, used his hands on its rump to vault up, then landed with his feet on the saddle. He took one step as the horse shifted in surprise, and leaped onto the solid wood awning over the tavern, hoping that it would hold his weight. He ran the length of it, away from the sea and deeper into the shops.
A glance over his shoulder showed him that Xuxa winged toward him. The two dopplegangers raced after him as well. One of them rippled, the arms and legs stretching as it grew two feet taller than it had been. At its new height, it easily grabbed the edge of the eaves over Nalkie’s and hauled itself up.
The eaves vibrated beneath Baylee’s feet as the creature dropped onto the awning. The doppleganger with the boat hook followed along on the street below.
Baylee ran, quickly as he could, leaping over the open gaps between the awnings. A handful of shopkeepers and their patrons came out to watch, not daring to get too close. But Baylee knew the watch would be called, and with them would be Cordyan Tsald.
The line of buildings ended only a short distance ahead, leaving only the street or the alley behind the buildings. Baylee vaulted the low roof overhang of a leatherworker’s business and ran for the back of the building.
At the end of the roof, he took one glance down and spotted the trash heap behind the seamstress’s shop. He dropped into discarded fabric, breaking his fall, then clawed his way out. The footsteps on the roof above crashed, sounding close. With its greater stride, the doppleganger pursuing him across the rooftops gained ground.
Further down the alley, a young man swabbed out the back of a butcher’s shop, the door wide open behind him. He looked up as Baylee approached, freezing into place.
The ranger eyed the handle of the mop. It looked good and strong, the grain showing that the cut had been made with it instead of against it. A thud sounded behind Baylee, and he guessed that the eight-foot tall doppleganger had dropped down.
The youth mopping out the butcher’s shop stared past Baylee with wide eyes. The ranger reached out for the mop, snatching it from the youth’s hand. “Excuse me. I need this.” He turned to face his pursuer.
The doppleganger was almost on top of him. He couldn’t have outrun it any longer. The creature’s borrowed face split in a huge grin. “You’re going to fight me with a mop?”
“If you’re not too cowardly,” Baylee replied, holding the mop defensively before him. “After all, we are alone. Your kind generally prefers to outnumber an opponent. And I am a fair hand with a mop.” He breathed fast, trying to keep his breath regular after the exertion. Even fighting for his life as he was, part of his mind was occupied with what might be on the elven ship.
The doppleganger waved the cutlass with certain menace. With its enhanced height, the heavy-bladed weapon looked small.
Baylee shoved the youth back into the butcher’s shop, out of the way of the confrontation. He ducked under the doppleganger’s first slash. Instead of striking back as he stood and moved back from his taller foe, he put the wet end of the mop on the ground, then stomped the handle just behind it. The oak handle broke in a jagged arc. He side-stepped the next thrust.
The other one is coming, Xuxa warned.
I know. Baylee took another step back, giving ground, getting the feel of the changed weight of the mop handle. It was too short to be a true staff, but in his hands it was a dangerous weapon.
The doppleganger swung another cut at him, stepping forward in anticipation of Baylee moving back again.
Baylee deflected the blow, stopping enough of the sword before deflecting it to ensure the doppleganger’s hand would ache from the impact. Caught off guard, the creature was unprepared for Baylee’s reversal of the mop handle, or the swing that connected with his face.
The doppleganger roared with rage and pain, struggling to get the cutlass up.
Baylee ducked to the side, reversing the mop handle again and striking the doppleganger on the side of the knee with a meaty smack. The leg trembled and almost went out from under the creature.
Trying to recover, the doppleganger aimed a backhanded blow at the ranger. Baylee parried the cut and came across the top of the cutlass, ramming the rounded end of the mop into the creature’s forehead hard enough to jerk its head back.
The doppleganger stumbled back, a worm of blood already threading down its face. The creature howled with rage and threw itself at its opponent.
Baylee whirled away, catching sight of movement behind the first doppleganger. Xuxa tried to intercept the second doppleganger, but managed only to narrowly escape the boat hook. Keeping his attention on his first foe, the ranger slid the handle through his hands and swung it hard.
The heavy oak caught the doppleganger on the foot, breaking bone. The creature hobbled, trying to stay upright on its injured foot.
Swinging again, Baylee connected with the doppleganger’s head, knocking it to the ground. Before it could rise, he ran the sharp end of the handle into its throat, up into the brain. The doppleganger ceased its struggles, shivered convulsively, and died.
Baylee turned, the handle in his hands, and watched as the second doppleganger came to a halt only a short distance away.
The creature’s eyes widened in fear, but anger shaped the features. “You killed Zyzll.” The doppleganger raised the boat hook.
“Choose well,” Baylee said, “your next move. It could well be your last.”
“Take him,” the drow woman’s voice spoke from thin air. “I know you, Tweent. If he doesn’t kill you, know that I will.”
The doppleganger screamed and came at Baylee with the upraised boat hook.
Baylee blocked the hook and avoided his foe’s charge. Stepping to the side, he slipped the handle under the other doppleganger’s cutlass and flipped it into the air, making it come back toward him. With a skill that would have caused a carnival knife artist envy, the ranger caught the cutlass by the haft. As the doppleganger tried coming back around to get at him again, Baylee swung the cutlass at the juncture of head and neck.
The cutlass’s keen edge separated tissue, muscle, and bo
ne in an explosion of power. The doppleganger’s head leaped from its shoulders.
Baylee looked down at the creature, feeling a little remorse. There had been too much death already in the pursuit of whatever prize Golsway had learned of. Talking to Golsway’s pseudo-shade had brought all that home to him.
“He was fairly warned and fairly fought,” a deep voice thundered. “There’s no need for reconsideration here.”
Baylee looked up, spotting Civva Cthulad ahorse at the other end of the alley.
The justifier slid his own sword back into its scabbard. His horse shifted under him, its hooves ringing against the flagstones. “I’m sure the watch has been called. Do you want them to catch up to you?”
Baylee tossed the cutlass away. Xuxa landed on a support strut beside the ranger and hung upside down, folding her wings around herself. “What are you doing here?” the ranger asked.
“Following you, of course.”
“I never saw you back there,” Baylee said. How did you miss him?
I don’t know, Xuxa answered honestly, sounding surprised herself. But then, a bat flying through Waterdeep in midday has to keep a low profile herself in order not to attract a lot of attention. Or become a cat’s dinner.
“You were never intended to see me.” Cthulad urged his mount forward. “I’ve been at your heels since you left your mentor’s home. I should imagine Junior Civilar Tsald is vexed at both of us.”
“They have no place in this,” Baylee said. “The people that are responsible for Golsway’s death aren’t from Waterdeep. The answers to their identities aren’t even in Waterdeep.”
“You talk as though you’ve found out some things.”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you’d care to elaborate,” Cthulad suggested.
Baylee shook his head. “Not now. We’re being scried upon at this moment.”
A small smiled twisted the corners of the warrior’s face. “Then I suggest we attend to that first. I have a friend who can expedite matters.”
