“What?” Geran asked. “What is it, Brun?”
“It’s Mistress Erstenwold, Lord Geran,” the brewer said. “You couldn’t have heard if you’ve been away from Hulburg, but she’s gone missing.”
“Missing?” Cold dread squeezed Geran’s heart. Mirya missing? If she was not in Hulburg, there was no place she would have gone of her own free will. His weariness vanished in sudden alarm. “What happened? Tell me!”
“It was two nights past. One of her neighbors heard a ruckus at her house and found the place all tore up-the front door wrenched off the hinges, furniture overturned, and all that. No one’s seen her or her little girl since.” Brun set his knuckle to his forehead. “Every man who calls himself loyal to Hulburg’s been looking for them.”
Geran took a step back, as if he’d been physically struck. Someone had attacked Mirya’s house? He started to ask himself why, but halted in midthought. It didn’t matter. He’d been away from Hulburg, unable to protect them. That was most likely the why of it; the only real questions were where the two of them were now, and whether they were beyond his help or not. The thought of some harm coming to Mirya or her daughter made him dizzy with dread. “Who? Who did it?” he asked.
Brun and his men exchanged looks with one another. “No one knows, Lord Geran,” the brewer said. “The harmach himself’s taken it up.”
“Lord Geran?” one of the men with Brun added. “I might’ve heard something new on it. My cousin serves in Tresterfin’s company. He told me he saw something peculiar in the middle of the fighting down by the wharves tonight-a big fellow, an ogre maybe, carrying a couple of people like the evening’s shopping down High Street toward the harbor. There was a thin man in a brown cowl with the big one. My cousin only saw the pair of ’em at a distance, but he told me that he would’ve sworn that it was Mirya Erstenwold the big fellow carried, all trussed up like a prisoner.” The militiaman shrugged awkwardly. “Mistress Erstenwold’s been on all our minds, I guess. He might’ve been seeing things as weren’t what he thought. But I thought you ought to know.”
An ogre and a man in a cowl? Geran could make no sense of that. There was no point in running off to comb the waterfront himself; if Brun was right, the Moonshields had already turned the town upside down, and the militiaman’s story might have nothing to it. But he knew who might be able to help. “My thanks, Brun,” he said. Then he climbed back up the steps to the store, let himself in by unlocking the door through its broken window, and hurried inside the darkened building.
A moment later he found what he was looking for and returned to the street with a well-worn white shawl clutched in his hand. Brun looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, but Geran showed him the shawl. “It might help,” he said. “If anyone asks about me, tell them I’ll be up to Griffonwatch as soon as I can.”
“Aye, Lord Geran,” Brun answered.
Geran nodded his thanks and rushed off down the street. He feared that he knew where Mirya was, but he had to make sure of it. He wound his way through the smoldering town, past bands of militia and soldiers searching for any pirates still hiding in the town, and hurried to Sarth’s home on the seaward slopes of the Easthead. The tiefling lived in a modest house attached to a small round tower rebuilt from the ruins of an older watch-post. Sarth was a man of means in Hulburg and could afford to live well.
Geran found a heavy bell by the front door and pulled it urgently. “Sarth!” he called. “I need your help!” He rang the bell again.
The door opened, revealing a stout, balding halfling of middle years with a small oil lamp in his hand-Sarth’s valet. The servant looked up at Geran and blinked sleepily. “Ah, Lord Geran! I’m afraid Master Sarth has retired for the evening,” he said. “Can you return in the morning?”
“I fear this can’t wait,” Geran answered. “Wake him, please. It’ll be on my head.”
The valet sighed. “Very well, then. Please wait in the foyer. Master Sarth will be down directly.” He retreated into the darkened house. Geran stepped inside and closed the door. Sarth’s home was plainly furnished in the simple, rough-hewn style most Hulburgans favored, although the decor included several fine Turmishan weavings. He paced anxiously across the flagstones of the foyer, trying to fight down the sick dread in his stomach.
Sarth and his servant appeared at the top of the staircase. The tiefling belted a light robe around his waist and descended. “What is it, Geran? What’s wrong?”
“Mirya Erstenwold and her daughter are missing. I fear they may have been carried off in the Black Moon raid. Can you find her?”
The sorcerer grimaced. “I am sorry, my friend. Of course I will do what I can. Do you have something of hers?”
Geran produced the shawl he’d picked up in Mirya’s store. “Here.”
Sarth took the shawl and nodded. “This should do. Come, let’s go to my workshop.” He led the way to the round room formed by the old tower adjoining the house. It was surprisingly uncluttered; in Geran’s experience most conjuries and laboratories were hopelessly messy, but Sarth hadn’t been in Hulburg long enough to accumulate the knickknacks, mementos, and curios that most sorcerers acquired over time. Over the last few months the tiefling had simply shrugged any time Geran asked him whether he was staying or not; Geran suspected that Sarth still entertained notions of recovering the magical tome known as the Infiernadex from the lich-king Aesperus, and spent his spare time investigating ways to do so.
“I hope you’ll forgive me for waking you up,” Geran said.
Sarth sighed. “I spent the last tenday unable to sleep a wink on that accursed ship. I think I managed half an hour before you woke me, but I am glad you did. Time may be of the essence.” He went to a cluttered bookshelf, considered the tomes crowded together there, then selected one to carry over to a reading stand in the center of the room. A circle of intricate runes and sigils was painted on the floor around the stand, and Sarth was careful to step over them as he entered. He opened the book, flipped through the pages, and found the spell he was looking for. “There, this should do. Stand over there, if you please, and keep still. I must concentrate.”
Geran did as Sarth told him. He’d learned a little about magic rituals himself during his studies in Myth Drannor, but Sarth was his superior in such things. The sorcerer ignited several candles around his rune-circle with a wave of his hand, and kindled a small fire beneath a brass bowl on a small table beside the reading stand. Into the bowl he threw pinches of various strange powders and began to intone the words recorded in his ritual book. Geran felt the stirrings of arcane power gathering in the candlelit conjury. Sarth continued with his magic and bent over the bowl to inhale deeply from the fragrant smoke that rose from it.
The candles flickered and guttered out; the sorcerer picked up Mirya’s shawl, holding it close under his nose, and closed his eyes. He stayed that way for a long moment then exhaled and opened his eyes. “She lives,” he said. He pointed toward one wall of the conjury. Its narrow window faced south, toward the Moonsea. “She is about fifteen miles in that direction and drawing farther away as we speak.”
“Kraken Queen,” Geran snarled. The only other pirate ship to escape the harbor had been Moonshark, and she’d never landed. He struck a fist against the wall. “Damn it all! How did she wind up a captive? Her house was nowhere near the harbor!”
“What will you do?” Sarth asked him.
“Go after her,” Geran said at once. “I’ll take whatever crew I can gather for Seadrake and sail within the hour, if possible. I have to overtake Kamoth before he disappears again.”
“I understand your desire for haste. But how heavy a blow have your enemies dealt the harmach tonight? Are you-and the company of Seadrake-needed here more?”
Geran hesitated. He understood Sarth’s unspoken question: were Mirya and her daughter already beyond help? Even if they weren’t, he was all too aware of the distant sound of fighting and the reek of smoke from the town below. Seadrake and her armsmen represented t
he better part of a quarter, perhaps a third, of the harmach’s strength. Hulburg might have repelled the Black Moon raid, but there was still the question of the Cinderfists to deal with. How would they react to the pirate attack? It might be wiser to delay a day or two, to take the measure of the town’s disorder and make sure that Hulburg was secure before setting out again. But each hour he delayed, Kamoth and Sergen improved their chances of escaping his grasp again-this time with Mirya and Selsha as their captives. He could imagine all too well what sort of fate might await the Erstenwolds in their hands.
Delay and risk losing them forever? he thought furiously. Or leave at once, hoping that he and the rest of Seadrake’s company weren’t needed to quell the troubles in Hulburg? Geran closed his eyes and made his decision. “If there’s any chance at all that I can save Mirya and her daughter from the Black Moon, I have to try, regardless of the consequences. I’ll sail at once.”
“So be it.” Sarth nodded. “As long as Sergen keeps Mirya aboard, I should be able to repeat my divination and sense the direction and distance to Kraken Queen. I know Mirya well. It will be difficult for the High Captain to hide her from me.”
“Thank you, Sarth.”
Sarth glanced back through the doorway to his living space, already missing the comforts of his own bed. He sighed. “I will get dressed and return to Seadrake.”
“Good. I’ll see you aboard.” Geran clasped the sorcerer’s arm in gratitude and then hurried back out into the night.
As it turned out, it was more than three hours before Seadrake could put to sea again. Geran could not leave without at least a brief visit to Griffonwatch-he had to seek the harmach’s blessing for taking the ship to sea again, and more importantly he had to relate to Harmach Grigor and Kara the story of his voyage aboard Moonshark and what he’d learned about Kamoth, Sergen, and the Black Moon Brotherhood. Kara dispatched Shieldsworn messengers to recall the crew and order the ship made ready for sea again while Geran reported his discoveries. The Hulburgan ship hurriedly reprovisioned, and the crew returned from brief visits home in order to get the ship underway again as soon as possible.
The morning was only an hour old as Seadrake cast off and sculled her way clear of the harbor. Anxious to take stock of the damage to Hulburg’s defenses and deal with surviving pirate gangs, Kara chose to stay behind. But Sarth and Hamil joined Geran again, and most of the warship’s company remained aboard, including the first mate Worthel, Andurth Galehand, Larken the prelate, and the rest of the officers. Seadrake’s warriors and sailors had only lost a handful of souls in the taking of Wyvern, so the crew was still at full strength, or close to it.
Geran paced anxiously across the quarterdeck, watching Galehand steer the ship past the Arches. By his count, Kraken Queen had a five-hour head start. Pillars of smoke still rose from the smoldering ashes of burned buildings, climbing skyward in the morning light. The rain and wind of the night had abated somewhat, leaving the morning with a steel gray overcast and a light westerly wind. “As soon as we clear Keldon Head, crowd on all the sail you can and steer south-southwest,” he told the sailing master. “The pirates are probably thirty miles or more south of us. I’m going to gamble that they’ll eventually turn west and make for the River Lis, so let’s see if we can cut the corner on their course.”
“What if they run t’ Mulmaster instead?” Andurth asked.
“I don’t think Kamoth will want to risk getting trapped in Mulmaster’s narrow harbor. He knows Seadrake will be on his track soon enough. If he goes east, he risks getting trapped in the Galennar, with the wind in our favor.” Geran shook his head. “Besides, I’ve got a feeling he has some place to hide near Umberlee’s Talons.” He remembered the way Kraken Queen had appeared with such startling swiftness when Narsk sailed Moonshark to meet the master of the Black Moon there.
They kept on their southwest course for most of the day without sighting the pirate flagship. At sunset Sarth made use of the privacy and space in the captain’s cabin to perform his divination again, and reported that Kraken Queen was indeed to their west, not much more than twenty miles off.
Geran gambled again on a long run to the north and back, to make the best speed westward possible with the wind, and kept up the pursuit through the night and the morning following. A little after noon on the day after they’d set sail, the lookout in Seadrake’s foretop cried out, “Sail ho! Two points off the port bow, hull down!”
Geran ran to the forecastle and peered over the bow. He could just barely make out the topsails of the ship ahead of them. Hamil joined him, climbing up the ratlines of the foremast to gain a better view. The halfling’s sight was quite keen, but after peering for a long moment he gave up with a shrug. “I’m not sure if it’s Kamoth,” Hamil said.
“It’s about where I would expect Kamoth to be if he’s running west toward the Talons. But we’ll have to close the distance to know for sure.” Geran studied the distant sails for a moment and then nodded to himself. “I’m going to assume that’s Kraken Queen and stick to her wake. Now that I have her in sight, I don’t want to lose her again.”
The afternoon seemed to crawl by as they slowly narrowed the distance to the ship ahead of them. Geran tried not to pace the decks or otherwise show the crew how anxious he was, but it took all of his willpower to restrain himself. Andurth had the ship in better trim than he could have managed, and they were making the best speed they possibly could. Instead, he leaned against the leeward rail near the helm and silently murmured prayers to every deity of mercy and fortune he could think of, hoping that Mirya and her daughter were simply being held on the other ship and not tormented in some way. The very idea of Mirya hurt or killed by Kamoth and his murderers made Geran’s heart grow cold. He didn’t know what it was that he felt for her; in all honesty, he had no claim on her heart and couldn’t imagine how he might even try to win her again, not after the years that had fallen between them and the grief he’d caused her. But he’d go to the ends of the world and lay down his life, if that would see her safely home again.
“Sergen knows her value, Geran,” Hamil said softly.
Geran shook himself and looked at his friend. “What?”
“Mirya. I can see you’re worried sick for her. Sergen has to recognize her value as a hostage. He’d be a fool to let her come to harm without trying to use her against you. Nothing will happen to her as long as he believes she might be useful to him.” Hamil reached up to set a hand on Geran’s shoulder. “Sergen is rotten to the core, but he’s not a fool.”
“I hear you,” Geran answered. “But that doesn’t mean Sergen will treat her well or protect her from Kamoth. It might not be up to him.”
“Hope for the best, Geran. There’s no point in dwelling on the alternatives.”
Geran snorted. “Since when have you become an optimist?”
“Don’t let anyone else know. I’ve my cynical reputation to think of.” Hamil squinted at the ship ahead of them and allowed himself a small smile. “I think that’s her. You can make out the black hull and the gilding on the stern now.”
Geran looked more closely and decided that Hamil was right. They were chasing Kraken Queen more or less directly into the westering sun, running as close to the wind as they could manage, but it was clear that they were gaining. The big pirate galley was not quite as slender or quick as Moonshark, and Seadrake held a noticeable advantage in speed over her quarry. “There’s an old saying in the Sea of Fallen Stars that comes to mind: a stern chase is a long chase. But we can outsail her, and I think we’ll overtake her in a couple of hours.”
“The afternoon is getting on,” Hamil warned. “We might run out of daylight before we catch Kamoth.”
“See? Now there’s the doomsayer I’m accustomed to.” Of course, the same thought had occurred to him, but the skies looked clear, and there’d be a half-moon early in the evening. He thought they’d be able to keep Kraken Queen in sight as long as they were within two or three miles. If they couldn’t catch
her before sundown, he thought they’d catch her early in the evening.
The distance steadily narrowed throughout the afternoon, until sunset found Seadrake trailing her quarry by a little more than a mile. It was clearly Kamoth’s flagship they had in sight; ahead, on the horizon, the sharp pinnacles of Umberlee’s Talons rose out of the water. Soon enough the pirate ship would have to attempt some maneuver to break away from Seadrake, or she’d have to accept a fight.
Geran took a quarter hour to duck into his cabin, eat a few bites of food, and buckle on the scabbard of his elven steel. The blade felt good in his hand after the heavy, poorly balanced cutlass he’d relied on aboard Moonshark. Then he hurried back to the quarterdeck. Kraken Queen kept straight on for the stony pillars, as if they offered some refuge that the Hulburgan ship dared not enter.
I don’t like this, Geran decided. Kamoth was up to something, he was certain of it. He wished Tao Zhe was at hand; it was unlikely that the cook could have offered any real insights about Kamoth’s intentions, but he would have known these waters better than Geran. However, Tao Zhe was back in Hulburg, since Hamil had offered the old Shou a billet with the Red Sail Coster before they’d sailed. “Keep after Kraken Queen, but watch where she’s leading us,” he told Galehand. “Pass the word to clear for battle.”
“Aye, m’lord,” Galehand answered. The dwarf bellowed his orders over the deck, and Seadrake’s sailors and armsmen moved to take up their battle stations. The Shieldsworn and sellswords aboard the ship donned their armor, uncovered the catapult on the foredeck, and set up the arbalests in their mounts on the rails.
Kraken Queen raced on, just out of bowshot now. But Umberlee’s Talons loomed ahead. The pirate ship steered boldly between two of the outlying reefs without slacking speed and made for the narrow passage between two of the great stony claws.
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