It seemed that he had one more errand for the night. He found a piece of parchment, scribbled out a short note, and handed it to the homunculus. “Take this to Valdarsel. He was at the Three Crowns Inn earlier tonight and may still be there. Do not allow yourself to be seen by anyone other than Valdarsel if you can help it. Return by daybreak if you do not find him.”
“Yes-s, mas-ter,” the creature replied. It seized the note in its tiny paws and flapped away again.
Rhovann watched it for a moment, then he donned his hooded cassock. “Come, Bastion,” he said to his golem. “We must pay a visit to Mirya Erstenwold.”
THIRTEEN
6 Marpenoth, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)
Hulburg’s Arches stood ninety miles north-northwest of Mulmaster’s fortified harbor. With favorable winds and a full spread of sail, a swift ship such as Moonshark could make the crossing in twelve or thirteen hours. However, Narsk had Sorsil and Khefen run at half-canvas during the night of the fifth, so that as morning broke on the sixth of Marpenoth, they were only about thirty miles out of Mulmaster. The jagged line of the Earthspur Mountains still showed above the horizon behind them, although they soon vanished into an overcast that thickened throughout the morning.
Shortly after daybreak, Narsk and Sorsil summoned Murkelmor, who served as the ship’s carpenter, to the quarterdeck. Murkelmor was soon hard at work building a frame or stand of some sort in front of the helm, using some of the ship’s spare timber. Most of the deckhands paused in their day’s work to peer up at the quarterdeck or look over Murkelmor’s shoulder, curiosity which was sharply discouraged by Sorsil when she noticed it. When the dwarf finished, Narsk brought the mysterious parcel from Mulmaster up from his cabin and carefully removed a strange, dark glass orb about the size of a man’s two fists held together. Tiny pinpricks of light seemed to glimmer in its dark depths. The orb spun freely inside a collar of silver metal; Murkelmor secured the collar to the wooden stand he’d built for the device.
“The starry compass,” Geran murmured to Sarth and Hamil as they watched from the maindeck. They were halfheartedly pushing mops around the deck as they did their best to spy on the installation of the device. They weren’t the only ones; more than a few of the ship’s crew were looking for an excuse to take a look at it, whatever it was.
“What is it?” Hamil asked. “Some device for steering by the stars? A magical lodestone? And what does Narsk need one for?”
“I don’t know,” Geran answered. “Kamoth’s letter didn’t say much more than ‘Pick up the starry compass in Mulmaster.’” He looked over to Sarth. “Have you heard of anything like it?”
Sarth shook his head. “As I’ve told you, I know nothing about seafaring. That ignorance extends to arcane devices that might have uses at sea. I could imagine that it would be useful to have an enchanted compass, though.”
“We’ll have a look at it later,” Geran decided. He was more than a little curious about the device, but at the moment the threat to Hulburg occupied the greater part of his attention. He returned to his mopping. On the quarterdeck, Sorsil and Murkelmor cut a piece of spare sailcloth to serve as a cover for the compass and its frame. They slipped the cover over the device and lashed the canvas securely in place. Clearly, Narsk and Sorsil didn’t want it pawed by every member of the crew.
Moonshark passed the day lazily pacing northward under half-sail, as Narsk dallied in the middle of the Moonsea well out of sight of the shore. Geran willed every ounce of speed from wind and wave, but the half galley refused to hurry her steps. Under cheerless gray skies he paced the decks anxiously, chafing as the hours dragged slowly by. The rest of the crew, on the other hand, spent the hours eagerly anticipating the looting of the town. They told stories of rich prizes from the past, boasted about their sexual prowess, or speculated about where the best loot would be found. The larger fists in the crew-Skamang and his men, Murkelmor with his dwarves and their Teshan allies, the goblins and half-orcs, the Mulmasterites-clustered together, laying their plans to go their own way once the ship’s business was taken care of. Some of the smaller fists struck alliances with larger ones or grouped with each other. A few men who’d been to Hulburg before did their best to sketch out maps of the town for the others, which ranged from fairly good to wildly inaccurate. The pirates laughed and jibed at each other in a rough good cheer that lasted throughout the day.
A little before midnight, Geran, Hamil, and Sarth arose and prepared themselves for their watch. But the swordmage motioned for his companions to follow him forward instead of going up to the deck. When he was satisfied that no one was in earshot, he said, “We’re taking the ship tonight.”
Hamil and Sarth glanced at each other, then Hamil nodded. “What do you have in mind?” the halfling asked.
“We’ll take care of the rest of the watch and steer due north for the rest of the night. I can’t wait for Narsk to reach the Black Moon rendezvous.”
“A dangerous ploy,” Sarth said. The tiefling frowned unhappily behind his human guise. “Narsk roams the ship at odd hours. If he discovers us …”
“We’ll have to deal with him along with the rest of the watch,” Geran answered. He wished he could think of some other way to get to Hulburg in advance of the Black Moon raid, instead of risking all on such a reckless plan, but they were out of time. “Let’s get to it, then. The sooner we change course, the closer to Hulburg we’ll get.”
Hamil held out his fist and looked up to his companions with a bold grin. “Good fortune to us, then,” he said. Geran fought down his fears of what might happen if they failed and set his hand on top of his friend’s. Sarth shrugged and set his hand atop Geran’s.
“Good fortune,” they both repeated in low voices. Then the three companions turned to the work ahead.
First they visited the ship’s armory. Hamil expertly picked the lock, and Geran helped himself to a good cutlass. With a little work he rigged the scabbard to lie across his back, where a hooded cloak might help to hide the fact that he was armed. Then, in the privacy of the arms locker, Geran quietly invoked the swordmage wardings and spells, which served as his armor, for the first time in days. They were not normally noticeable, but someone trained in the arcane arts might sense their presence, and anyone who struck at him-for example, the first mate with her cudgel-would likely notice their effect, which was why Geran had gone without the wardings. He hoped he wouldn’t need them, but it was better to be ready. Tonight would be a night of decision, and the time for fitting in with their fellow corsairs was drawing to an end. “All right, let’s head up for watch,” Geran told his friends.
They quietly closed the arms locker and went up on deck, reporting for their watch under the second mate, Khefen. Although Khefen’s watch consisted of a full third of the ship’s company, twenty men weren’t needed on deck at all times. Normally Moonshark sailed with the mate and a helmsman on the quarterdeck, a lookout in the bow, a lookout aloft, and a couple of roving deckhands who kept an eye on the rigging, tended the braces and stays, and looked after the lanterns belowdecks. Their primary task was to go below and rouse more of the watch if the mate had to change the set of the sails. Some minor adjustments could be handled by a couple of men easily enough, but other adjustments-for example, breaking out or taking in a mainsail-required the whole watch. Those men who weren’t on deck were allowed to catch as much sleep as they could, so long as they were quick to come up on deck when summoned. Over the course of a watch it was customary for the helmsman, lookouts, and rovers to trade places with their watchmates so that most of the crewmen had a chance to sleep at least four or five hours a night. However, Moonshark’s stronger fists made new and unproven hands stand more of the watch than they should have. For tonight that would serve Geran and his friends well.
Geran took the helm after the watch change, while Sarth was kept on as roving hand, and Hamil was sent aloft to the crow’s nest. The night was cool and dark; the moon was hidden behind thick clouds, and a light
drizzle fell. Moonshark rode sluggishly on a west-northwesterly track as the wind was light, and she still didn’t have her full spread of canvas aloft. For half an hour he held the ship on course, biding his time to make sure the second watch was settled below. Khefen said little to him, sipping from his flask as he leaned against the lee rail.
Finally he decided the moment was right. He looked over at the second mate. “Take the wheel for a moment, Master Khefen?” he asked. “I need to relieve myself.”
Khefen sighed, but he shook himself under his damp cloak and nodded. “Don’t be long,” he said.
Geran let the man get his hands on the helm and stepped back. Then he quietly drew a leather sap from beneath his cloak and struck the second mate across the back of the head. Khefen groaned and slumped; Geran caught him and lowered him softly to the deck. Quickly he looped a keeper over the topmost spoke of the helm, then dragged Khefen to one side. He arranged the unconscious man against the rail and liberally sprinkled him with the contents of his own flask. Things would go hard for Khefen in the morning, but at least it wouldn’t seem overly suspicious. Then he hurried forward.
Hamil dropped lightly to the deck from the foremast as Geran approached. The halfling winked at him, and together they moved forward to take care of the remaining two men on watch. But atop the fo’c’sle they found that Sarth had caught both the forward lookout and the other rover together. Both men lay sprawled on the deck in an enchanted slumber, overcome by the tiefling’s spells. “Did you deal with Khefen?” Sarth asked.
“Not as neatly as you managed these two, but it’s done,” Geran answered. Together he and Hamil securely bound and gagged the unconscious men then hid them under a bit of spare canvas.
“The deck’s ours for the moment,” Hamil said. “So what now?”
“Now we run toward Hulburg at our best speed,” Geran answered. “If we can get within a dozen miles or so of the northern shore, we’ll put the longboat in the water and part ways with Moonshark. With luck we’ll reach Hulburg by noon and warn the harmach about the pirate raid. But I think we’ll need a good three or four hours on a northerly course to get close enough for the boat, and then we’ll have to get the boat in the water without waking half the crew.”
“What can I do?” Sarth asked.
“Go forward and act like you’re on watch. If anyone comes up on deck, try not to let on that anything’s out of the ordinary. Hamil, you’ll do the same. I’m going to turn us slowly to our new course and see if I can’t quietly put on a little more sail without anyone noticing.”
“If this works, I’ll be astonished,” Hamil muttered. “But I guess it’s worth a try.” The halfling shrugged and moved to take up his position near the mainmast.
Geran returned to the quarterdeck, checked briefly on Khefen-the mate seemed to be well and truly out-and took the wheel again. Working just a few degrees at a time he brought their course a good fifty degrees over, settling on a heading just a little east of due north. Then he put the keeper back on the helm and hurried down to the main deck to help Hamil and Sarth square the yardarms back around, now that they were sailing further from the wind. Geran sorely wanted to break out more sail, but he’d need most of the watch for that. He might be able to bluff his way through by propping Khefen up at the rail and telling the watch that the second mate wanted more sail on, but there were just too many things that could go wrong if he roused a dozen more of their watchmates. He settled for having Sarth and Hamil quietly break out the staysails, which were comparatively small, close to the deck, and easily handled. They didn’t add much to Moonshark’s speed, but every little bit helped, and the wind was beginning to pick up a little bit.
They ran for most of the night with little difficulty. Several times sleepy crewmen came up to the deck to answer calls of nature. None seemed to notice that the ship was not on the heading she was supposed to be on, but that didn’t surprise Geran. Very few deckhands knew anything about navigation, and Narsk was hardly in the habit of informing the crew exactly where he was bound at any given moment. Usually no one other than the mate on watch and the man standing at the helm knew what course the ship was steering, if there weren’t any landmarks in sight. One or two noticed the staysails and said something, but Hamil deflected the questions easily enough by simply saying “the captain told Khefen to break ’em out.” The deckhands took Hamil at his word and made their way back down to their hammocks.
Two hours before dawn, Geran judged that they’d pushed their luck far enough. In an hour or so Tao Zhe would be rising to begin making breakfast. Geran wanted to be off the ship before then. He was just about to call Hamil and Sarth to the quarterdeck when he heard heavy footsteps on the portside ladder. A moment later, Sorsil appeared on the quarterdeck. “How goes the night?” the first mate asked. Then her eye fell on Khefen’s motionless form, propped up by the rail. “What in the-Is that miserable bastard asleep on his watch?”
Geran stared at her in horror. Fortunately, Sorsil’s attention was fixed on Khefen. The first mate crossed the quarterdeck and kicked Khefen savagely. The second mate fell over with a strange grunt but didn’t awake. “By Cyric’s black blade! He’s dead drunk!” she fumed.
“Master Khefen said he wasn’t feeling well,” Geran stammered. “The night was quiet enough, so I just kept on as he told me.”
Sorsil looked at the lodestone in front of the helm and then glanced up at the sky. The night had cleared a bit, and a few stars were shining through the overcast. “Bloody hell, we’re sailing due north! And who put on the extra sail? How long have we been going like this?”
“Only half an hour or so,” Geran said. “It was the last thing Khefen told us to do before he … fell ill.”
Sorsil was livid. The first mate kicked Khefen’s unresponsive body again, and Geran winced. The last thing he needed now was for the second mate to wake up. But evidently he’d sapped the man harder than he thought, for Khefen still didn’t rouse. The first mate rounded on Geran again. “Half an hour, you say? You didn’t think to send the rover to tell me that he was gods-damned unconscious? How much longer were you going to go on without letting anyone know that you were the only man on the quarterdeck?”
Sorry, Geran, I didn’t see her come up on deck! Hamil’s silent voice cut into Geran’s thoughts. A moment later the halfling hurried up the ladder from the maindeck. “Is all well?” he asked aloud.
“Ask your friend here,” Sorsil snapped. The first mate looked one more time at Khefen and then scowled at both Geran and Hamil. “Bring the ship back to west by northwest, damn you,” she finally said. “And you there, Dagger, you go below and rouse the whole watch. We’re going to take in sail like the captain wanted, and then you’re going to explain what in the Nine Hells is going on here.”
Distract her, Geran, Hamil told him. We can’t afford a scene.
Geran grimaced. He knew he wouldn’t like what came next, but he couldn’t see any way around it, not if he still hoped to spare Hulburg the brunt of the Black Moon raid. He looked at Sorsil and said, quite deliberately, “I’ve had enough from you, Sorsil. I think the sails are fine as they are. Take them in yourself if you don’t like the way they’re set.”
The first mate paled in rage. “You think-?” she snarled. She reached for the truncheon at her waist. And at that moment Hamil glided up behind her, reached up to clap a hand over her mouth, and sank his poniard into the first mate’s back. Sorsil staggered forward two steps; Geran caught her and wrestled her over to the rail. They struggled for a moment, but the first mate’s strength was already failing. With one final effort Geran toppled her over the side with a splash, although Hamil had to catch the swordmage by the belt buckle to keep him from going in after her.
I doubt that Daried Selsherryn would have approved of that, he thought grimly. It was murder, pure and simple, and Geran was none too proud of it. But Sorsil had killed more than a few of Moonshark’s victims with her own steel, or so he’d heard from Tao Zhe and others aboard. An
d scores, perhaps hundreds, of Hulburgan lives were at risk if he failed to warn the harmach of the pirate plan. He looked over to Hamil and nodded his thanks. “I think we’re out of time.”
“Agreed,” the halfling said. “How far to Hulburg, do you think?”
“It might be fifteen miles, it might be thirty.” That would be a brutal distance if they had to row it, but the longboat had a small mast that could be stepped into place with just a few minutes’ work. Geran hoped to sail to Hulburg, not row.
“They’ll come after us once they find us gone,” Hamil pointed out.
“I know.” Geran thought for a moment, considering how best to sabotage the ship. Unfortunately there was nothing nearby to run her aground on, so he decided to disable the rudder. He kneeled, slashed the ship’s rudder cables with his poniard, and began to haul up the loose cabling. Rigging a new rudder cable ought to occupy Moonshark for a couple of hours at least, and by the time they were ready to pursue Geran and his companions, they’d have long since disappeared. “Go on back and get the longboat ready to launch-quietly!”
Hamil grinned at him. “Maybe this will work after all.” He dashed forward to the main deck, while Geran yanked length after length of the rudder cable up from below. Without her rudder, Moonshark’s bow began to fall off downwind, and she rocked a little as she passed through the swell.
Geran got the last of the rudder cabling that he could reach, picked up the tarry mess, and dropped it over the side. He brushed off his hands, hurried down the ladder to the main deck, and headed forward to help Hamil and Sarth wrestle the longboat over the side. This was by far the trickiest part of the whole business; lowering the longboat was a six-man job, not a three-man job, and it was nearly impossible to do it quietly. With sheer brute force they managed to lift it out of its cradle and stagger over to the rail, but not before the boat’s gunwales thumped the deck a couple of times. Geran winced, but they were getting close to the moment when speed would count more than stealth.
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