by Mel Odom
Jherek remembered the ship then, and the chase. He’d been five, clinging to the ship’s rigging as his father had commanded. It was his job to put out any fires that might start on the deck when the boarding began. Merchant ships who knew they were going to be taken often retaliated by trying their hardest to make taking them dangerous to the pirates. He always stayed near the wet sand barrels that he used to put out any fire arrows that struck Bunyip. The pirate vessel’s namesake, a creature of the seas half seal, half shark, was known for the characteristic roar it unleashed before it took its prey. Falkane had ordered a specially made klaxon created to make the same roar, only much louder. Jherek remembered it ringing in his ears that day.
“In the end,” Sabyna went on, “Bunyip closed on us. The boarding crew was more merciful in those days than they are now.”
“I know,” Jherek said hoarsely.
“Falkane ordered the captain and most of the crew killed. It was butchery, but he spared my father and a few other men, my other two brothers who were still yet children themselves. He also spared my mother and the women on the ship.”
Images flickered through Jherek’s mind of that day, more details available than he’d ever been able to remember in the past. He’d clung to the railing, scared and crying as he always did when he saw the vicious bloodletting that happened on a ship Bunyip had grappled onto.
“My brother Dennin was sixteen, still a boy, but with a man’s growth. His magic could have been strong, but he denied it, called to the blade. Before my father could stop him, he challenged Falkane to a duel.” Sabyna shook her head. “It was no duel. It was an execution.”
Jherek didn’t remember that. At the time he’d been standing by the railing, sure even as a child that he could no longer endure the fear and the sheer evil that radiated from his father and the pirate crew. Men and women had been murdered—and worse—on Bunyip’s deck, and his father had made him witness most of the atrocities.
During the boarding then the two ships had gotten off tandem on a wave and knocked forcibly together. He’d fallen over the railing and into the ocean between the two ships. Though he was a good swimmer, he couldn’t overcome the undertow created by the ships and the sea. In the end, he’d given up, accepting death as a respite from the harsh and unloved life he’d been forced to live.
He remembered floating downward, looking up at the keels of the two ships over him, watching as the turquoise world around him slowly faded to black. On the brink of drowning, he’d heard the voice for the first time.
Live, that you may serve. Nothing more, but the voice had left him feeling enraptured, stronger.
A pair of dolphins had swam under him, nosing under his arms and swimming with him back to the surface. One of his father’s pirates had spotted him and leaped in to save him. Afterward, he’d been more hopeful for a time, but that had faded as the days of waiting for more direction had turned into months and years. Now with the way events had gone in Velen, Jherek felt it had only been to prolong the agony of his life.
“After he finished with the ship,” Sabyna went on, “Falkane burned it to the waterline. He gave my father Dennin’s body, as a token of respect he’d said, because my brother had died well.”
“I’m sorry,” Jherek said, the cold touching him again, but coming from inside this time. Still, his mind whirled. Perhaps Madame Iitaar’s divination was correct. It wasn’t just mere chance that had placed him on the same ship as a woman who’d been there at the time the dolphins had rescued him. Or was it? He wished that he was more certain.
Live, that you may serve.
But serve who?
“I’m not telling you this because of the boy,” Sabyna said. “I did what I had to down there even if it did frighten him more than he should have been, and we both have to live with that. Nor am I telling you this because I want you to understand how I feel about pirates. I’m telling you these things because I want you to know me.”
Jherek remained silent, knowing part of her talk was from the aftermath of the risk they’d taken. Talking at such times, Malorrie had assured him, was a natural thing, a way of putting things behind a person.
“If I could,” she continued, “I’d kill every pirate on every sea, on all of Toril, and stretch their bodies out for the gulls to feed on.”
The tattoo on the inside of Jherek’s arm seemed to catch fire. It marked him indelibly for her, made him a part of what she most hated. There was no denying his heritage, and his bloodline only made it worse.
“Tynnel’s stand on pirates is the chief reason I signed on with Breezerunner,” she said. “He’s got a reputation for taking the fight to pirates, and he keeps the extra men on board to handle any encounter with them that may come along.” She turned to him. “I’ve a harsh side to me, one that surprises a lot of people. Is that too much for you to handle?”
He hesitated, trying to figure it out for himself. His head rebelled from what she was saying, thinking that her logic was skewed. It was one thing to stand against an evil, but another to stalk it as much like a predator as the evil itself. In the end, he went with his heart.
“No, it’s not too much for me to handle.”
She looked at him, her eyes searching his. “Good, because I find myself liking you—maybe more than I should—and if I’m too honest for you too quickly, I can only offer my apologies.”
Her revelation shocked Jherek and he didn’t know what to say.
“Surprised?” she asked.
“Aye,” he croaked.
“Surprised that I’d be so forward?”
He shrugged.
“I live on a ship, as you have. It’s a small world. Things will pass you by if you don’t reach out for them. Do you understand?”
Jherek nodded, realizing that her talk was there to bolster her courage in revealing so much of herself.
“There’s not much time to get to know someone you feel—drawn to,” she continued. “I’ve learned that I have to deal with my feelings quickly to make sure of where I stand. I can’t afford distractions in my job, and I’ve found you’ve become very distracting. If I don’t deal with it now, I fear it’s only going to get worse. I don’t want that, but neither do I want to confuse you, and I know from other times that I’m capable of that. I’m trying to be fair to both of us. It would be easier if I felt you weren’t interested.”
Jherek understood. Finaren had kept Butterfly operating in the same fashion. If men didn’t get along, they admitted and confronted each other, and truces were worked out. If talking didn’t settle it, they fought, though no killing was permitted. If the one fight didn’t settle matters, Finaren picked one of the men and helped the other, if he was a good worker, find another ship.
He tried to think of something to say, but no words came readily to his lips. Luckily, she continued, making a effort to fill the uncomfortable silence that had threatened to come between them.
“When you put a woman on a ship,” Sabyna said, “you affect ship’s morale. I can’t afford to get close to any man on this ship. Such a thing has a tendency to split the crew. Yet, I’m a woman still, with womanly desires. It’s one thing to entertain myself on shore leave, but those are transitory things. Breezerunner is my home, and it makes me feel good about myself to invite someone into my home and fix a meal for them, share a conversation. Do you understand?”
“Aye, I think that I do,” Jherek answered, looking into her impassioned gaze, knowing what she felt in part. He’d never had what he considered a home to himself, except maybe the loft over the barn he’d rented before Madame Iitaar had taken him into her home. He’d never allowed himself to get close to others, not even Butterfly’s crew, because of his secret.
“I’m no common woman to be treated in a casual manner.” She looked away. “Should you get a berth on this ship when you get to Baldur’s Gate, things between us would change. I don’t fraternize with crew, and you need to know that as well.”
He nodded. Her honesty felt much di
fferent from the Amnian woman’s from three days ago. There were no demands being put on him, only an interest evidenced. Strangely, he found that it frightened him more than the Amnian woman’s bald advances.
“What’s on your mind?” Sabyna asked.
He looked away from her, not knowing what to say.
“Tell me if I’ve completely embarrassed myself,” she said in a contrite voice, “but I know no other way to let someone know what I’m thinking other than to tell them.”
Hearing the uncertainty in her voice, Jherek turned back to face her. “No, lady, you’ve not embarrassed yourself. I think you show great sense and have courage to speak your mind.”
“Then what?”
“I—”
She waited, which made it even harder to speak.
“I thought eveningfeast tonight was just in appreciation for the work I’d been doing,” he stated finally.
“You accepted because you liked the idea of a meal cooked only for you, or being seen with the only female on the ship’s crew? If that’s the case, then I was wrong about you.” She wrapped up more tightly in her part of the blanket.
“No, lady, that’s not it. I took your eveningfeast invitation because I wanted to get to know you more.”
“You didn’t think I’d invited you for the same reason?”
“No, I didn’t.”
Sabyna laughed softly. “In some ways, for a sailor, you’re very naive,” she said. “Why wouldn’t you think I’d be interested in you?”
“I’m very common, lady.”
“You work hard, yet you keep to yourself. You’re opinionated, but you keep those opinions to yourself. You’re brave and caring. Tonight has shown me that. Those are all traits a woman could be interested in.” She paused. “You said you’d wanted to get to know me better. What about me made you feel that way?”
Surprisingly, Jherek found the answer to that easy, if somewhat disconcerting to admit. “I liked your smile,” he told her, “and I liked the way you handle yourself. You walk this deck confidently, lady.”
“My beauty didn’t turn your head?”
Jherek faced her, not believing he hadn’t thought to comment on her beauty. In all the stories he’d read, the heroes always talked of their lady love’s beauty. She wasn’t his lady love, he reminded himself, and life didn’t always have a happy ending the way it did in the romances.
“Lady, as you’ve said, I’m naive about some things, but one thing I have learned is that beauty can be deceptive.”
“Touché,” she replied, looking into his eyes. She smiled at him.
Jherek became even more aware of the way the blanket enfolded the two of them, and of the scent of lilacs. The moonlight ignited copper flame highlights in her damp hair. She was beautiful.
“You lie as well,” she replied calmly, without accusation. “I don’t know if your name is Malorrie or Jherek.”
“Lady—” Her words tore at Jherek’s heart. He’d never wanted to lie to anyone.
She placed her fingers against his lips. “Shush. I feel I know you. I think you believe you have reasons for lying about the things you lie about. I won’t have you lying any further to me, not if I’m going to get to know you, and I won’t push you to tell me anything you’re not ready to say.”
He waited, smelling the lilac softness of her fingers.
“Do you understand?”
“Aye, lady,” he said softly.
She stared at him in silence for a moment, then broke the eye contact. “You need to get some sleep,” she said, “as do I. Tynnel will keep a crew out searching for any more possible survivors, but I don’t think there’ll be any. We can talk more tomorrow.”
“As you wish.”
She smiled at him. “ ‘As you wish,’ ” she repeated. “I like the sound of that.”
Jherek flushed. At the moment, looking into her eyes, the response had seemed so appropriate, culled from the pages of books he’d read, of the romances in the stories, but aloud like that, with Sabyna drawing attention to it, it seemed to strike a false note. “I only meant—”
“It’s all right. I meant what I said, I do like the sound of it. I’ve grown up around the sea and seafaring men all my life. Men’s lips often move before their brains have full sails up. I’ll warn you now, if you start coming across as a dandy, I’ll have none of it. The man I had dinner with, the one who was polite and kind and thoughtful, and maybe a bit flustered, that’s the one I enjoy. If he turns out to be a bit of drama or a flummery, I warn you now I’ll be greatly disappointed.” She took her blanket back and stood.
Jherek stood as well, and he was surprised how chill the wind felt now after being wrapped in her blanket. He took the empty bowls, intending to drop them in the galley after they parted.
“Are you still interested in helping out with the work Breezerunner needs?”
“Of course.”
She started to go, then turned back to him. “There’s one other thing I want to mention to you.”
“Aye.”
Her manner turned even more darkly serious. “When I read your palm earlier, I had a vision. I’ve never had one before, but I know that’s what it was. It was interrupted by the collision.”
Jherek felt his stomach turn small and cold, wondering what she’d seen. After living with Madame Iitaar as she gave divinations all those years, he believed in such magic.
“I don’t know how far in the future, but at some point, you’re going to cross swords with Falkane the Salt Wolf. It will be at sea, but it’s a sea I’ve not seen.”
Suddenly dizzy, feeling like the deck itself had dropped out from beneath him, Jherek made himself remain standing.
“That surprises you?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“Why?”
“I’m just a sailor, no king’s man or corsair to pursue the pirates of the Nelanther.”
Her eyes examined his face. “It might not come true,” she said finally. “The vision felt like it was sometime in the future, but the events aren’t set. If you stay on your present course, I feel it will happen, but visions aren’t written in stone. Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Jherek watched her walk away, reveling in the sight of her while at the same time feeling more wary than ever. After leaving the dishes with the cook, he took himself amidships and hung out a hammock. He’d stayed in the cabin below decks for the last three nights, sharing the space with other travelers and some of the ship’s crew. Tonight, though, he wanted to sleep out under the stars, hoping it would clear his head.
He laid on the hammock and draped the heavy blanket Madame Iitaar had made and he’d gotten from his traveler’s kit over him. The wind slipped across his face. He wondered about the ship’s mage, wishing he had Malorrie there to talk to him about the way she made him feel and the confusing things she said and did.
He thought about the vision of his father she’d said she had. He didn’t doubt that she’d had the vision, but he did question whether it was going to come true. There was no reason his path would cross his father’s ever again. If it did, he had no doubt that blood would be spilled and one of them might die.
The last thought he had, though, was of what might be waiting for him at Baldur’s Gate.
XXII
7 Tarsakh, the Year of the Gauntlet
Seated atop the royal flier, skimming through the depths at top speed, Laaqueel looked out over King Huaanton’s village. It was spread across the rocky seabed three hundred feet and more below the surface, located between the Nelanthers and the Moonshaes, as the surface dwellers termed the ground above water. By Huaanton’s reckoning, those areas were still part of his domain, just held by invaders. Iakhovas, Laaqueel knew, had promised to bring those regions under Huaanton’s control soon.
The terrain was broken, peaking and gliding in mismatched sections that left troughs and valleys scattered over it. The deepest section of it was the canyon that ran through the ocean bed. Perpetual murk h
ung over the area, masking the pale blue light that actually made it to that depth. Surface dwellers, even with their magic potions and items that allowed them to breathe underwater and withstand the crushing depths, wouldn’t see the village with their weak eyes unless they were on top of it. By that time, sharks, sahuagin guards, and traps all stood ready to kill them.
The village was huge, lining both sides of the immense canyon. Buildings crafted of great blocks of stone sat barnacle-covered on both sides. Despite all the killing that had gone on by each sahuagin king who’d held court at the site, there still existed the rumor that the buildings had once been on the surface, and that immense changes had shaken all of Toril in the past.
The flier, propelled by sahuagin swimmers gripping the t-bars underneath, changed its glide approach to a steeper angle and slid down into the canyon. Dozens of sahuagin dwellings, looking like bumps and abnormalities, clung to the canyon walls. Sharks and sahuagin guards lounged in the cracks and crevices leading into tunneled labyrinths that honeycombed the village. More tunnels, likewise filled with traps and guards, twisted and threaded through the canyon walls and beyond on both sides. Over seven thousand sahuagin lived there.
The sahuagin tiller guided his craft down to the bottom of the canyon, then cut sharply into a defile that looked like a shadow against the uneven floor. They burst through into the darkness. Even with her vision, Laaqueel was hard-pressed to see through the gloom. It would take a little time for her eyes to fully acclimate to the new darkness. Even attacking sahuagin would be at a disadvantage to the palace guards inside.
The flier leveled out and slowed, easing into the tunnel the manta almost filled from side to side. The tunnel walls were slick from usage. Dozens of guards filled the receiving chamber, and Laaqueel knew traps covered every inch of the area. The water felt colder inside the passage. In all her life, she’d only been to the king’s village once before, and never through the tunnels that led to the main palace.
Iakhovas sat beside Laaqueel in the flier, concentrating on another of the artifacts that his search parties had brought to him of late. The wizard didn’t appear to be impressed by being invited to the royal village at all. The attack on Waterdeep was six days in the past, and Iakhovas was already planning his next steps.