The Pirate King t-2

by Robert Anthony Salvatore

  The devil fell to the stone, in two pieces.

  “By Moradin’s own mug,” said Thibbledorf Pwent, standing between Bruenor and Regis. “I’m knowin’ he’s an orc, but I’m likin’ this one.”

  Bruenor smirked at his battlerager escort, but his gaze went right back to Obould, who seemed almost godlike standing up on that stone, his foe, vanquished, at his feet.

  Realizing that he had to react, Bruenor stalked the orc’s way. “She’d have made a fine prisoner,” he reminded Obould.

  “She makes a better trophy,” the orc king insisted, and he and Bruenor locked their typically angry stares, the two always seeming on the verge of battle.

  “Don’t ye forget that we came to help ye,” said Bruenor.

  “Don’t you forget that I let you,” Obould countered, and they continued to stare.

  Over to the side, Drizzt found his way to Catti-brie. “Been four years,” the woman lamented, watching the two rival kings and their unending growling at each other. “I wonder if I will live long enough to see them change.”

  “They’re staring, not fighting,” Drizzt replied. “You already have.”

  CHAPTER 3

  TO DARE TO DREAM

  A few years earlier, Sea Sprite would have just sent Quelch’s Folly to the ocean floor and sailed on her way in search of more pirates. AndSea Sprite would have found other pirates to destroy before she needed to sail back into port. Sea Sprite could catch and destroy and hunt again with near impunity. She was faster, she was stronger, and she was possessed of tremendous advantages over those she hunted in terms of information.

  A catch, though, was becoming increasingly rare, though pirates were plentiful.

  A troubled Deudermont paced the deck of his beloved pirate hunter, occasionally glancing back at the damaged ship he had put in tow. He needed the assurance. Like an aging gladiator, Deudermont understood that time was fast passing him by, that his enemies had caught up to his tactics. The ship in tow alleviated those fears somewhat, of course, like a swordsman’s win in the arena. And it would bring a fine payoff in Waterdeep, he knew.

  “For months now I have wondered….” Deudermont remarked to Robillard when he walked near the wizard, seated on his customary throne behind the mainmast, a dozen feet up from the deck. “Now I know.”

  “Know what, my captain?” Robillard asked with obviously feigned interest.

  “Why we don’t find them.”

  “We found one.”

  “Why we don’t more readily find them,” the captain retorted to his wizard’s unending dry humor.

  “Pray tell.” As he spoke, Robillard apparently caught on to the intensity of Deudermont’s gaze, and he didn’t look away.

  “I heard your conversation with Arabeth Raurym,” Deudermont said.

  Robillard replaced his shock with an amused grin. “Indeed. She is an interesting little creature.”

  “A pirate who escaped our grasp,” Deudermont remarked.

  “You would have had me put her in chains?” the wizard asked. “You are aware of her lineage, I presume.”

  Deudermont didn’t blink.

  “And her power,” Robillard added. “She is an overwizard of the Hosttower of the Arcane. Had I tried to detain her, she would have blown the ship out from under our boarding party, yourself included.”

  “Isn’t that exactly the circumstance for which you were hired?”

  Robillard smirked and let the quip pass.

  “I don’t like that she escaped,” Deudermont said. He paused and directed Robillard’s gaze to starboard.

  The sun dipped below the ocean horizon, turning a distant line of clouds fiery orange, red, and pink. The sun was setting, but at least it was a beautiful sight. Deudermont couldn’t dismiss the symbolism of the sunset, given his feelings as he considered the relative inefficiency of Sea Sprite of late, those nagging suspicions that his tactics had been successfully countered by the many pirates running wild along the Sword Coast.

  He stared at the sunset.

  “The Arcane Brotherhood meddles where they should not,” he said quietly, as much to himself as to Robillard.

  “You would expect differently?” came the wizard’s response.

  Deudermont managed to tear his eyes from the natural spectacle to regard Robillard.

  “They have always been meddlesome,” Robillard explained. “Some, at least. There are those—I counted myself among them—who simply wanted to be left alone to our studies and experiments. We viewed the Hosttower as a refuge for the brilliant. Sadly, others wish to use that brilliance for gain or for dominance.”

  “This Arklem Greeth creature.”

  “Creature? Yes, a fitting description.”

  “You left the Hosttower before he arrived?” Deudermont asked.

  “I was still among its members as he rose to prominence, sadly.”

  “Do you count his rise among your reasons for leaving?”

  Robillard considered that for a moment then shrugged. “I don’t believe Greeth alone was the catalyst for the changes in the tower, he was more a symptom. But perhaps the fatal blow to whatever honor remained at the Hosttower.”

  “Now he supports the pirates.”

  “Likely the least of his crimes. He is an indecent creature.”

  Deudermont rubbed his tired eyes and looked back to the sunset.

  Three days later, Sea Sprite and Quelch’s Folly—whose name had been purposely marred beyond recognition—put into Waterdeep Harbor. They were met by eager wharf hands and the harbormaster himself, who also served as auctioneer for the captured pirate ships Deudermont and a very few others brought in.

  “Argus Retch’s ship,” he said to Deudermont when the captain walked down from Sea Sprite. “Tell me ye got him in yer hold, and me day’ll be brighter.”

  Deudermont shook his head and looked past the harbormaster, to a young friend of his, Lord Brambleberry of the East Waterdeep nobility. The man moved swiftly, with a boyish spring still in his step. He had passed the age of twenty, but barely, and while Deudermont admired his youth and vigor, and indeed believed that he was looking at a kindred spirit—Brambleberry so reminded him of himself at that age—he sometimes found the young man too eager and anxious to make a name for himself. Such rushed ambition could lead to a premature visit to the Fugue Plane, Deudermont knew.

  “Ye killed him, then, did ye?” the harbormaster asked.

  “He was not aboard when we boarded,” Deudermont explained. “But we’ve a score of pirate prisoners for your gaolers.”

  “Bah, but I’d trade the lot of them for Argus Retch’s ugly head,” the man said and spat. Deudermont nodded quickly and walked by him.

  “I heard that your sails had been sighted, and was hoping that you would put in this day,” Lord Brambleberry said as the captain neared. He extended his hand, which Deudermont grasped in a firm shake.

  “You wish to get in an early bid on Retch’s ship?” Deudermont asked.

  “I may,” the young nobleman replied. He was taller than most men—as tall as Deudermont—with hair the color of wheat in a bright sun and eyes that darted to and fro with inquisitiveness and not wariness, as if there was too much of the world yet to be seen. He had thin and handsome features, again so much like Deudermont, and unblemished skin and clean fingernails bespeaking his noble birthright.

  “May?” asked Deudermont. “I had thought you intended to construct a fleet of pirate hunters.”

  “You know I do,” the young lord replied. “Or did. I fear that the pirates have learned to evade such tactics.” He glanced at Quelch’s Folly and added, “Usually.”

  “A fleet of escort ships, then,” said Deudermont.

  “A prudent adjustment, Captain,” Brambleberry replied, and led Deudermont away to his waiting coach.

  They let the unpleasant talk of pirates abate during their ride across the fabulous city of Waterdeep. The city was bustling that fine day, and too noisy for them to speak and be heard without shouting.<
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  A cobblestone drive led up to Brambleberry’s estate. The coach rolled under an awning and the attendants were fast to open the door and help the lord and his guest climb out. Inside the palatial dwelling, Brambleberry went first to the wine rack, a fine stock of elven vintages. Deudermont watched him reach to the lower rack and pull forth one bottle, then another, examining the label and brushing away the dust.

  Brambleberry was retrieving the finest of his stock, Deudermont realized and smiled in appreciation, and also in recognizing that the Lord Brambleberry must have some important revelations waiting for him if he was reaching so deep into his liquid treasure trove.

  They moved up to a comfortable sitting room, where a hearth blazed and fine treats had been set out on a small wooden table set between two plush chairs.

  “I have wondered if we should turn to defensive measures, protecting the merchant ships, instead of our aggressive pirate hunts,” Brambleberry said almost as soon as Deudermont took his seat.

  “It’s no duty I would wish.”

  “There is nothing exciting about it—particularly not for Sea Sprite,” Brambleberry agreed. “Since any pirates spying such an escort would simply raise sail and flee long before any engagement. The price of fame,” he said, and lifted his glass in toast.

  Deudermont tapped the glass and took a sip, and indeed the young lord had provided him with a good vintage.

  “And what has been the result of your pondering?” Deudermont asked. “Are you and the other lords convinced of the wisdom of escorts? It does sound like a costly proposition, given the number of merchant ships sailing out of your harbor every day.”

  “Prohibitive,” the lord agreed. “And surely unproductive. The pirates adjust, cleverly and with…assistance.”

  “They have friends,” Deudermont agreed.

  “Powerful friends,” said Lord Brambleberry.

  Deudermont started the next toast, and after his sip asked, “Are we to dance around in circles, or are you to tell me what you know or what you suspect?”

  Brambleberry’s eyes flashed with amusement and he grinned smugly. “Rumors—perhaps merely rumors,” he said. “It’s whispered that the pirates have found allies in the greater powers of Luskan.”

  “The high captains, to a one, once shared their dishonorable profession, to some degree or another,” said Deudermont.

  “Not them,” said the still elusive Brambleberry. “Though it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that one or another of the high captains had an interest, perhaps financial, with a pirate or two. Nay, my friend, I speak of a more intimate and powerful arrangement.”

  “If not the high captains, then….”

  “The Hosttower,” said Brambleberry.

  Deudermont’s expression showed his increased interest.

  “I know it’s surprising, Captain,” Brambleberry remarked, “but I have heard whispers, from reliable places, that the Hosttower is indeed involved in the increasing piracy of late—which would explain your more limited successes, and those of every other authority trying to track down and rid the waters of the scum.”

  Deudermont rubbed his chin, trying to put it all in perspective.

  “You don’t believe me?” Brambleberry asked.

  “Quite the contrary,” the captain replied. “Your words only confirm similar information I have recently received.”

  With a wide smile, Brambleberry reached again for his wineglass, but he paused as he lifted it, and stared at it intently.

  “These were quite expensive,” he said.

  “Their quality is obvious.”

  “And the wine contained within them is many times more precious.” He looked up at Deudermont.

  “What would you have me say?” the captain asked. “I’m grateful to share in such luxury as this.”

  “That is my whole point,” Brambleberry said, and Deudermont’s face screwed up with confusion.

  “Look around you,” the Waterdhavian nobleman bade him. “Wealth—unbelievable wealth. All mine by birthright. I know that you have been well-rewarded for your efforts these years, good Captain Deudermont, but if you were to collect all of your earnings combined, I doubt you could afford that single rack of wine from which I pulled our present drink.”

  Deudermont set his glass down, not quite knowing how to respond, or how Brambleberry wanted him to respond. He easily suppressed his nagging, prideful anger and bade the man to continue.

  “You sail out and bring down Argus Retch, through great effort and at great risk,” Brambleberry went on. “And you come here with his ship, which I might purchase at a whim, with a snap of my fingers, and at a cost to my fortune that wouldn’t be noticed by any but the most nitpicking of coin-counters.”

  “We all have our places,” Deudermont replied, finally catching on to where the man was heading.

  “Even if those places are not attained through effort or justice,” said Brambleberry. He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I feel that I’m living a good life and the life of a good man, Captain. I treat my servants well, and seek to serve the people.”

  “You are a well-respected lord, and for good reason.”

  “And you are a hero, in Luskan and in Waterdeep.”

  “And a villain to many others,” the captain said with a grin.

  “A villain to villains, perhaps, and to no others. I envy you. And I salute you and look up to you,” he added, and lifted his glass in toast, finally. “And I would trade places with you.”

  “Tell your staff and I will tell my crew,” Deudermont said with a laugh.

  “I jest with you not at all,” Brambleberry replied. “Would that it were so simple. But we know it’s not, and I know that to follow in your footsteps will be a journey of deeds, not of birthright. And not of purchases. I would have the people speak of me, one day, as they now speak of Captain Deudermont.”

  To Deudermont’s surprise, Brambleberry threw his wineglass against the hearth, shattering it.

  “I have earned none of this, other than by the good fortune of my birth. And so you see, Captain, I’m determined to put this good fortune to work. Yes, I will purchase Argus Retch’s ship from you, to make three in my fleet, and I will sail them, crewed by mercenaries, to Luskan—beside you if you’ll join me—and deal such a blow to those pirates sailing the Sword Coast as they have never before known. And when we’re done, I will turn my fleet loose to the seas, hunting as Sea Sprite hunts, until the scourge of piracy is removed from the waters.”

  Deudermont let the proclamation hang in the air for a long while, trying to wind his thoughts along the many potential paths, most of them seeming quite disastrous.

  “If you mean to wage war on the Hosttower, you will be facing a formidable foe—and a foe no doubt supported by the five high captains of Luskan,” he finally replied. “Do you mean to start a war between Waterdeep and the City of Sails?”

  “No, of course not,” said Brambleberry. “We can be quieter than that.”

  “A small force to unseat Arklem Greeth and his overwizards?” Deudermont asked.

  “Not just any small force,” Brambleberry promised. “Waterdeep knows no shortage of individuals of considerable personal power.”

  Deudermont sat there staring as the heartbeats slipped past.

  “Consider the possibilities, Captain Deudermont,” Brambleberry begged.

  “Are you not being too anxious to make your coveted mark, my young friend?”

  “Or am I offering you the opportunity to truly finish that which you started so many years ago?” Brambleberry countered. “To deal a blow such as this would ensure that all of your efforts these years were far more than a temporary alleviation of misery for the merchants sailing the Sword Coast.”

  Captain Deudermont sat back in his chair and lifted his glass before him to drink. He paused, though, seeing the flickering fire in the hearth twisting through the facets of the crystal.

  He couldn’t deny the sense of challenge, and the hope of true accomplishme
nt.

  CHAPTER 4

  FISHING FOR MEMORIES

  I t was a prime example of the good that can come through cooperation,” Drizzt remarked, and his smirk told Regis that he was making the lofty statement more to irk Bruenor than to make any profound philosophical point.

  “Bah, I had to choose between orcs and demons…”

  “Devils,” the halfling corrected and Bruenor glared at him.

  “Between orcs and devils,” the dwarf king conceded. “I picked the ones what smelled better.”

  “You were bound to do so,” Regis dared say, and it was his turn to toss a clever wink Drizzt’s way.

  “Bah, the Nine Hells I was!”

  “Shall I retrieve the Treaty of Garumn’s Gorge that we might review the responsibilities of the signatories?” Drizzt asked.

  “Yerself winks at him and I put me fist into yer eye, then I toss Rumblebelly down the hallway,” Bruenor warned.

  “You cannot blame them for being surprised that King Bruenor would go to the aid of an orc,” came a voice from the door, and the three turned as one to watch Catti-brie enter the room.

  “Don’t ye join them,” Bruenor warned.

  Catti-brie bowed with respect. “Fear not,” she said. “I’ve come for my husband, that he can see me on my way.”

  “Back to Silverymoon for more lessons with Alustriel?” Regis asked.

  “Beyond that,” Drizzt answered for her as he walked across to take her arm. “Lady Alustriel has promised Catti-brie a journey that will span half the continent and several planes of existence.” He looked at his wife and smiled with obvious envy.

  “And how long’s that to take?” Bruenor demanded. He had made it no secret to Catti-brie that her prolonged absences from Mithral Hall had created extra work for him, though in truth, the woman and everyone else who had heard the dwarf’s grumbling had understood it to be his way of admitting that he sorely missed Catti-brie without actually saying the words.