The Shadowmask: Stone of Tymora, Book II

by R. A. Salvatore

  I started to object, but Deudermont’s look was so harsh and unbending that I thought the better of it. “Of course not, sir,” I mumbled.

  “Good. I will speak to you when I have finished with them,” Deudermont said. Without another word he led Drizzt, Wulfgar, Catti-brie, and Bruenor onto and across the deck and into his cabin. I slunk up the gangplank a few moments later and onto the deck.

  We were in port, and night was falling. I looked up at the mainmast. There was no lookout posted in the crow’s nest.

  Soon I would confront Drizzt and demand answers. I would very likely have to leave the ship, and my friends, once more. But before that, I would sleep in the crow’s nest underneath the stars. I would be exactly where I wished to be.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The sound of someone climbing the ladder broke my trance perhaps an hour later, just as the last rays of light disappeared beneath the horizon. I pulled out my dagger, ready to strike.

  “The captain said you were looking for me,” Drizzt said, pulling himself gracefully into the broad bucket beside me.

  “I was.” I put my dagger back in my belt, but kept my hand on the hilt.

  “For what purpose?”

  “I … I need to know something.” I hung my head. All the time I had been searching for the drow, I had never really imagined what I would say once I finally found him. I knew Drizzt was a formidable fighter. What if my questions made him angry? I gulped. Fear weighed down my voice. My question came out at barely a whisper. “What do you want with my stone?”

  “What stone?” He looked genuinely puzzled.

  “The magical stone. The stone I carried in a pouch here,” I said, tapping the hollow of my chest. How could he pretend to not know what I was talking about? My voice grew stronger. “I had it last time we were on this ship. I nearly tossed it away the night we met, when you found me on deck. I’m sure you knew about it then, didn’t you?” I said, though in fact I was not at all sure.

  But Drizzt did not deny it. “And you have lost it now,” he said.

  “Not lost—it was stolen!” I practically spat out the words. “It was stolen by a woman. She wears a shadow-mask and a robe, and the ravens said she was trying to save me and—”

  “Ravens?” Drizzt interrupted.

  “Talking ravens,” I said. “Nine of them. Or, one of them talked, I don’t know about the rest.”

  “Where is your stone now?” Drizzt asked.

  “That’s what I’m asking you.” I was growing desperate. “Where is it? I have to get it back, and I thought since you were after it too, you would know!”

  “I am not after your stone, Maimun.” Drizzt looked down at me, with no menace in his eyes. “Why would you think I was?”

  “I met a seer in Memnon.” The words sounded foolish to my own ears, and a blush crept over my cheeks. “He told me you seek what I seek.” Had the old seer lied to me? A feeling like hot needles shot through my left leg.

  Drizzt shook his head slowly. “All I seek right now is passage back to the north, to help my friend recover his home. I know nothing of any such stone.”

  My heart sank. I clenched my fist, trying in vain to relieve the pinpricks shooting up and down my arm as well.

  “What is the matter? Are you in pain?” Drizzt said, pointing at my hand.

  “No,” I said. I tried to blink back the tears in my eyes and look normal.

  He ignored my obvious lie. “You are wounded.”

  “It’s nothing.” I stared at my hand and wiggled my fingers. “My hand just feels a little numb.”

  “Just your hand?”

  My gaze dropped to the bucket’s worn floor. “My left foot too,” I admitted.

  “Since when?” There was genuine concern in his voice and on his face, and I felt ashamed for ever having doubted his motives.

  “Since … Since I left Sea Sprite, I suppose,” I tried to think back to exactly when the feeling had started, to what had caused it. “No, since I lost the stone. It’s powerful magic, brings luck and stuff. And it’s been mine since birth even though I only got it this summer, and it’s tied to me somehow and …” My voice rose in speed and intensity as I rambled on frantically.

  Drizzt patted the air and motioned for me to be calm. “I know little of any of this,” he said. “But it sounds to me like the numbness and the stone are connected.” He squatted down and reached out to touch my leg. I jerked it back reflexively.

  Drizzt looked back at me, deep concern in his eyes. “You must find your stone, or I cannot say how much worse this pain and numbness might grow.”

  I took a few deep breaths until the pinpricks began to subside. “Can you help me?”

  “I will do what I can, but I fear that is not much.”

  I dropped my head.

  “But,” the drow continued, “I do know of some one who may be able to help.”

  I looked up again. “Who?” I asked.

  “A man, a wizard, named Malchor Harpell. He lives to the north, in a hidden tower. I can take you there, if you will trust me.”

  My head swirled with hope. I had a destination, a place to begin again. I nodded.

  “Good,” Drizzt rose to his feet and headed for the ladder. “Now, the captain is waiting for you in his cabin.”

  Part Two

  THE SHADOWMASK

  “So ye went down to the cabin and ye spilled yer beans to Captain Deudermont,” the pirate said. He sat on a boulder in front of me, his elbows perched on his knees, his head resting in one hand.

  “That’s right,” I said. I cast my gaze behind the pirate. I could see that the light coming through the door had changed significantly. It no longer came through the door so directly. But a faint glow still seeped through the cracks. It was indirect sunlight pouring into the tunnel that led to the beach. I would not have even noticed it, except that I had been watching for it, waiting for the answers it would bring.

  The sun was rising, not setting.

  The cave faced east.

  “So then ye sailed north,” the pirate chanted. “And ye found this Harpell person, and—”

  “If you want to tell the story, be my guest,” I snapped.

  “A story that boring? Why’d I want to tell it?”

  “Why would you want to hear it, is the better question.”

  The pirate laughed and pulled himself to his feet. “Good question, that be,” he said, hand going for the hilt of his sword.

  He brought the sword up and advanced menacingly.

  “You don’t want to kill me,” I said.

  “Not if ye got more to say,” he said. “And if it ain’t boring.”

  I made no response, just locked my gaze with his. After a moment, he sat back down. “So, ye talked Deudermont into taking yerself north, then.”

  “He volunteered, actually,” I replied. “For the second time, he offered me his help unconditionally.”

  “So long as ye give in to his will.”

  “That’s right.”

  The pirate leaned forward. “Pretty strong condition, that be.”

  “Are you going to stop interrupting me?”

  He laughed again, a great belly laugh that rolled for what seemed like several minutes.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” I said when he’d finished.

  “I be a pirate, boy! We ain’t known fer politeness.”

  “Nor for bathing either,” I said, unable to resist.

  “Nor that,” he agreed. “Now, do continue with the tale. There be a long way between Calimport and Waterdeep.”

  A big part of me wanted to simply stop talking, to let him kill me, to deny him the pleasure of knowing the end of my tale. But I could not do that, not after what I had learned.

  The cave faced east.

  It faced open water.

  That meant we were on an island, somewhere off the Sword Coast.

  That meant the pirates would have ships, boats, some means of reaching the mainland, near at hand.

  The begi
nnings of a plan formed in my mind. A desperate plan, true, but a plan nonetheless.

  I could not let this pirate kill me. After everything I’d been through, I would not be killed like an aging animal too old to serve its purpose. But for the moment, I had no choice but to give the pirate what he wanted, until the time was right to make my escape.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Sails on the horizon! South by southwest!” I called down from my perch in the crow’s nest. We had been at sea for seventeen days, harnessing a strong autumnal wind blowing from the south to push us up the Sword Coast at a good clip. Autumn was dragging on toward winter, and the ice floes and icebergs of the northern seas would soon begin creeping down toward Waterdeep. We had passed Memnon more than a tenday ago. We were but a few days from Baldur’s Gate, where we planned to make port and take in more supplies. I almost wished we’d never get there.

  I had been there twice before, both times ending worse than my worst nightmares. I had battled Asbeel there, had watched Perrault take a grievous wound defending me, and had abandoned him to die there. I would surely have died there myself, had I not found Sea Sprite. And back aboard her again, I felt like I had come home.

  After we departed Calimport, Deudermont assigned me the job of carrying his orders, the same job I had held before taking my sudden leave in Memnon. As the numbness in my left foot grew worse, it became more and more difficult to walk. In spite of the pain, I was willing to continue my duties without complaint, but Captain Deudermont would hear nothing of it. He said I had eyes as sharp as any on the ship, and could make better account of myself as lookout.

  “Sails on the horizon!” I called out again. The season was late, so we saw relatively few ships, and nearly all of those sailed from the north to Calimshan. “She’s tracing the horizon,” I called down. “Looks like she’s heading for land.”

  Odd, I thought. The coastline nearest us was Tyr, its purple hills meeting the sea at rocky and often sheer cliffs. There were few, if any, good berths due east of that ship’s position.

  We were faster than her, but her angle would bring her closer to us as she passed directly south of our due-north track. Her choice of path was curious, surely, but something else was amiss. I couldn’t quite place it. I watched her move ever so slowly across my field of vision, away from the darkening western horizon …

  The darkening western horizon. Darkening, in the early afternoon. Suddenly the ship was the least of my concerns.

  “Captain!” I yelled down to the deck below. “I need the captain!” A boy named Waillan, who had taken over my duties as deckhand, darted below deck and emerged a moment later with Captain Deudermont in tow.

  “What is it?” Deudermont called up. Even yelling, his voice sounded regal.

  “Ship south-southwest, moving due east,” I called down. “I think she’s damaged, looks to be listing.”

  Deudermont nodded. “Heading for Tyr, for repairs,” he said.

  “No sir, I don’t think she’s on course for any city. She’s just aiming for the nearest land.”

  “Any thoughts on why?”

  “I think she’s running from a storm,” I yelled, more loudly than I had planned.

  A hush fell over all the crew on deck. A storm so late in the season likely meant a tempest. A tempest could make a ship like ours disappear.

  “You think?” Deudermont said. “Look again and tell me if there is a storm or if there is not.”

  All work on deck halted. All eyes turned to look at me.

  I turned back to the horizon and peered out, squinting my eyes to cut through the glare of the high sun. And again I saw it: the western horizon growing dark, dimmed by the approaching thunderhead. The clouds would be visible in a matter of hours, I knew. And a few hours after that, we would be in the thick of it.

  “Storm,” I called down. “Huge, too. Covers the whole western horizon.”

  Deudermont nodded and looked me straight in the eye. Then he moved to the port stern to scan the horizon himself. I felt a twinge of bitterness that the captain hadn’t trusted my eyes.

  “Sails to full!” he called after only a moment. “Get all hands on deck! Tie down the cargo, close the portholes, and make the ship ready! We’ll run ’til we’re caught, then ride it out!” The crew leaped into action immediately. “Helm, set us bearing zero-four-zero. Head toward land until the coast is in sight. We’ll need the reference to reach the Gate in a storm.”

  “Aye,” called the helmsman, turning the wheel to the right. Though it was only a slight movement, up in the crow’s nest, I felt the boat tilt distinctly.

  I glanced out at the listing ship. “Wait! No!” I called down.

  But with all the hustle and bustle on deck, Deudermont could not hear me. Men climbed the rigging to open the sails. Others scrambled about with ropes to tie down and brace all the various moving parts on deck. A constant stream of activity entered and left the hold.

  “Relief!” I called down below. There should have been someone ready to take my place whenever I conceded the watch. But Deudermont’s new orders had trumped that plan. My appointed reliever was busily battening down a hatch somewhere.

  I scanned the deck. “Relief! If you please!”

  Still no one heard me. At the front of the deck, I saw Wulfgar pulling up the anchor chain—the entire anchor—over the side of the ship, along with a few other crewmen. If the anchor were allowed to hang, as it usually did, and the storm damaged that part of the ship, the anchor could drop into the sea and be lost. Or worse, it could drop into the sea but not be lost, instead catching something on the seabed below and holding us in position. Not being able to rise and fall and move with the swells of the storm could cause catastrophic damage.

  Bruenor leaned over the rail, bidding a fond farewell to his lunch for the seventeenth straight day.

  Drizzt was walking in the rigging, moving with ease and grace beyond anything I’d seen. He walked along the narrow beams and ropes as if they were solid ground. He was busy helping unfurl the last of the sails, bringing us from half to full. The sight made me a bit nervous. If our sails were out fully when the storm caught us, they’d be ripped to shreds. Deudermont was betting the extra distance we’d cover in the run before the storm would be worth the risk. He would order all sails furled and secured before the front of the tempest hit us.

  “I’ve got ye,” came a call from below, a female voice. I knew without looking it was Catti-brie, the only woman on the ship.

  I slid down the mast. I had become quite good at dropping from the crow’s nest to the deck. She climbed up, offering me a wink as she passed.

  As soon as I reached the deck, I set off in a limping sprint, straight to the captain.

  “Sir, you missed something,” I tried to keep the trepidation out of my voice.

  “What’s that, Maimun?” Deudermont replied curtly. He did not take his eyes off the horizon, which visibly darkened even from our low perch.

  “The other ship.”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s listing, sir, and I think she’s damaged. We have to help her.” Visions of the last ship I hadn’t helped flashed in my mind, visions of Joen in chains … “We can get to her before the storm does if we turn and set full,” I said.

  Deudermont turned to face me. “We’d be sailing straight into the wind.”

  “No, sir, you’re wrong,” I pointed toward the thundercloud. “See, the storm is coming from the west; it should push the wind in front of it. The storm is probably cycloning, spinning, so the wind will come in from the southwest. If we set to intercept the ship, we’ll be headed southeast. The wind won’t be perfect, but we can still ride it.”

  He stared down at me. “Then we’d both be caught in the storm.”

  “We’re going to be caught in the storm anyway,” I said, stepping up on the bottom edge of the rail to meet his gaze. “She’s already listing, Captain.”

  “And unlikely to survive the storm. Our presence near her won’t c
hange that,” Deudermont said. He turned back to the rail, indicating the end of the conversation.

  I tugged on his sleeve, willing him to turn back around. “We can take her crew on board, shelter them,” I said, fully aware of my own rudeness.

  Deudermont continued to stare at the horizon. “I will not risk my own ship and the lives of my crew. Thank you for your opinion, but my decision is made.”

  I stomped my foot. “Your decision is wrong, sir,” I said.

  Deudermont whirled back to face me, a fire in his eyes I had never seen. “I am captain of this ship, not you. I am charged with making these decisions, not you. And do not think you are the only one who can see clearly here. I know what is likely to happen, I have weighed all my options, and I have made my choice. When you have an opinion to voice, I will hear it, but once my decision is made, you will not question it so long as you remain on my ship. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” I mumbled.

  “Good. You are relieved from duty.” Without another word, Deudermont stomped away from me toward the stern.

  I could barely breathe, let alone speak, as I watched him walk away. I limped to the hold. Belowdecks, I found the hammock that served as my bunk, and fell into it. But I was too humiliated to sleep. Deudermont had just relieved me during an all-hands situation. Never before had he done such a thing to any of his sailors. I could hardly fathom an insult of that magnitude. I flexed my numb hand, and felt the pinpricks traveling up my forearm. Had the other crew heard the discussion—the fight? Would Captain Deudermont tell them how insolent I’d been? I turned my head to my pillow. I’d never be able to show my face abovedecks again.

  “The storm’s turned,” said a voice—Tonnid’s voice, low and slow and steady. “Cap’n said you should know.”

  “Turned south?” I asked, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

  “Nopers. Turned north.”

  I sat up. “Running alongside us?”