by Paul S. Kemp
A horrible death, probably, he reminded himself as he hung weightless in the sea.
Even those bad thoughts didn't weigh him down. The pearl's magic also allowed him to move however he wished in the water with no regard to depth or natural buoyancy. Without the spell, his leather armor would have dragged him to his doom if he couldn't shed himself of it in time, though the armor was enchanted as well. The armor's enchantment protected the leather from the damaging effects of seawater and also allowed him to free it from his body at a word-which was something he was loath to do because it was a very expensive and hard to replace garment.
He fanned his arms and legs as though swimming. When he'd pointed himself downward, he swam down into the darkness of the sea.
Peilam's Nose lay mired in sand on the ocean bottom on her port side. She was a large cargo ship that had sailed from the Old Empires to the Dragonmere to trade with Cormyr. Her home port had been Skuld, along the Mulhorandi coastline.
According to the texts Rytagir had read-a ship's log, a merchant's journal, and two reports dictated to the Skuld merchantmen's guild because some of the cargo aboard the lost ship had belonged to the king and an accounting had had to be made-Peilam's Nose had been attacked by a sahuagin raiding party.
The ship's mage and a contingent of guardsmen aboard hadn't stood a chance against the sea devils. The sailors were slain to a man, and the ship's mage gutted and flown from a cross timber of the main mast. Most of the crew had been eaten by the sahuagin.
After that, Peilam's Nose had been scuttled and sent to the bottom more than eight hundred miles away. It had taken Rytagir almost a month to plot her probable course once she'd gone under.
One of the old bardic songs that had fallen out of favor in the Inner Sea also contained a germ of truth about the attack. Rytagir's interest had first been caught by that song while in the Tattered Sails Tavern in Milvarune in Thesk almost a year earlier. He had been there researching some of the villages that had been left in ruins by the Tuigan Horde.
From that germ of the tale carried in the bard's sad, liking voice, Rytagir had spent a tenday researching Peilam's Nose. And what her cargo manifest might have included.
When an explorer-which was how Rytagir thought of himself-didn't have a vessel and he needed one to recover lost artifacts from a shipwreck, he learned to find the details that would encourage others to invest in his knowledge and experience. In this case, he'd put together a probable manifest of the ship's cargo to tempt Captain Zahban into becoming his partner and lending his ship to the effort.
Rytagir stopped his descent only a few feet above the shipwreck. Despite the magic woven into the pearl, his vision wasn't able to penetrate much of the gloom at that depth.
He swam slowly and surveyed Peilam's Nose from the broken keel to the distinctive prow that named her. She'd been christened for the man who'd built her, a dwarf woodworker who'd forsaken the forge for a lathe in a lumberyard.
Even half-buried, the prow showed the fierce profile of a dwarf. His blunt nose projected well ahead of the rest of his features. The eye that Rytagir could see looked undaunted. Peilam's beard showed in the scalloped trim that flowed back over the prow until it gradually faded into the hull on both sides.
The ship was unmistakably the one Rytagir had come for. He reached into the waterproof shoulder pack he'd brought with him and extracted the journal he'd dedicated to compiling all information about Peilam's Nose.
Protected by the pearl's magic, Rytagir hung cross-legged in the sea and quickly sketched the ship as it lay on the sea bottom. The salvage was going to be easier than he'd expected.
More times than not, the hull-especially on a scuttled vessel-shattered and emptied her guts across the sea floor. The trail of lost cargo could last for miles.
So immersed was Rytagir in the task of recording the image for the papers or book he would write on the ship that he didn't notice he was no longer alone on the ocean floor. At least, not until he noticed the shadow that slid over his.
3
Almost casually, Rytagir closed the journal and slipped it back into the shoulder bag. His hand closed over the plain hilt of his long sword and yanked the blade free. He spun around to face the observer and raised the sword between them.
With the shadow being human-shaped, his first impression was that he was being spied upon by a sahuagin. But he knew the chances of that were small.
Sahuagin had brought an end to Peilam's Nose, but the murderous sea devils no longer freely traveled the currents of the Inner Sea. The aquatic predators had been sealed within the Alamber Sea behind the massive Sharksbane Wall. The defensive structure was a hundred miles long, sixty feet tall, and a hundred feet thick. Legend had it that sea elves and other creatures manned the wall to prevent the sahuagin from invading the Sea of Fallen Stars.
But his observer wasn't a sahuagin. It was a sea elf. A beautiful sea elf. Her clothing consisted of clam shells that covered her pert breasts, a triangle of silverweave armor that barely concealed her modesty, and silverweave legging armor. Her pale blue skin had white patches that were natural camouflage many sea creatures shared.
As with other denizens of the deep, she was darker on her back-her dorsal side-than her front. The bifurcation of colors was the sea's primary gift to her creatures. Dark on top, they couldn't be seen from above. Light on bottom, they were hard to see against the brightness of the surface.
She was a rare beauty, even among the alu Tel'Quessir, as the sea elves called themselves, because she possessed flashing silver eyes and a long, vibrant mane of red hair that swirled down to her generous hips. Neither of those colors occurred very often among the alu Tel'Quessir.
Her gaze held both displeasure and defiance. One hand wrapped the haft of a trident made of chipped obsidian. A silverweave net rode on her left hip, and she had an obsidian knife strapped to her lower right leg.
She wasn't alone. A dozen other sea elves floated behind her, males and females. All of them were armed, Half a dozen dolphins circled the area. The dolphins were companions to the rangers among the sea elves.
Not exactly a welcoming committee, Rytagir thought as he looked over the sea elves.
"You are human," the sea elf woman accused.
Rytagir sheathed his long sword. "I am. My name is Rytagir."
One of the younger male sea elves spoke to the woman in their native tongue. Rytagir spoke that language as well, but didn't see the need to reveal that as yet.
"I have heard of him, lady," the young warrior said. His green eyes never left Rytagir. "He's a seeker among the humans. They say he means no harm to undersea folk."
Rytagir was aware of his good reputation. He'd worked to have it and to keep it.
"What are you doing here?" the sea elf woman demanded.
"I'm a scholar, lady." Rytagir pointed at the shipwreck. "I've come to document the final days of that vessel."
She arched an eyebrow. "It was attacked by sahuagin and sunk. Surely your people knew that."
"We did. But we didn't know where the cargo had gone."
"If you surface dwellers were more careful with your things," one of the male elves snarled, "then you wouldn't be fouling our waters with your unwanted refuse and things you have lost."
"Not all the things that have been lost have been unwanted," Rytagir pointed out. But it was true that ships that were no longer serviceable were scuttled. Refuse from cities also poured out into the sea from rivers and from garbage scows. "I'm here today representing people who want this thing back."
The elf swam to within inches of Rytagir. "Once something is down here, human, it belongs to us. Even the gold aboard that ship. You can't have it back unless we decide that you can. Or unless you pay us to release it."
Rytagir knew that was true. Though the alu Tel'Quessir didn't value gold the same way the dry world did, gold still had value on the sea floor as building materials. Stories were often told in taverns of entire sea elf cities made of gold.
"I'm willing to negotiate," Rytagir said.
The male swam around Rytagir contemptuously. "We're not fools, human. We know the worth of gold in the surface world."
"I'm not here for the gold."
"Then what are you here for, human?" the female elf asked.
"For the story. To let the families of these men know what happened to them."
Mocking doubt showed on the young elf woman's face. "Three hundred years after the ship went down?" She shook her head and her beautiful tresses floated out into the water. "I doubt there are any left alive who care. Your people tend to be as shortsighted as you are short-lived."
"There are important documents aboard."
"You came for those documents? Not for the gold?"
"I came for the documents. The captain of the ship above came for the gold. That was my deal with him."
"And you claim none of this gold for yourself?" Her raised eyebrows indicated how doubtful she was at that.
"I'm going to take my share of gold. I'd be a fool not to. And expeditions like this one aren't free."
The alu Tel'Quessir around them laughed at that.
"What if we chose to take a share of that gold?" the elf woman asked.
Rytagir glanced at them all. "Perhaps we could come to an amenable agreement."
4
"I don't see why we have to share," the sea elf male snarled. "If we choose to, we can sink their ship and drown them all." He glared at Rytagir. "Unless you choose to run."
"Greedy surface dwellers don't run," another male stated.
Rytagir hardened his voice. "There is a ship's mage aboard the vessel. And he has an apprentice. Both of them stand prepared to defend the ship as well. They've sworn their life's blood to do that."
The alu Tel'Quessir knew about ships' mages. Charged with caring for the crew and the ship, all of them knew how to repair minor damage done to the ship and preserve wood, but some of them could quell storms, hurl fireballs, and summon the wind. Others, at least so Rytagir had heard, could call down lightning strikes, summon whirlpools, and raise tidal waves that could smash ships on rocks.
The sea elves had a healthy respect for magic. Still, they could be damn stubborn. Rytagir hoped to make negotiating more attractive to them.
"What bargain would you strike, human?" the female asked.
"I want the salvage from this ship."
"I would not see this ship moved," she replied. "It has become home to many sea creatures."
Rytagir understood the woman's feelings. His father tended to believe, after the same fashion, that change, unless natural, was not a thing to ascribe to. Disruption of an environment was never to be tolerated.
"I've sworn to protect the land and the seas that have been assigned to me," the sea elf woman said.
"I'm not here for the ship," he said. "All I want is the cargo, and the documents if I can find them."
"What would we get in return?" the male asked.
"If you simply allow this, I'll give you ten percent of what we recover."
"Never expect a fair deal from a surface dweller," one of the other elves muttered.
"I'll give a fair deal," Rytagir countered. "But I'm not going to let you rob me. If you help me with the transport of the goods to the ship above, I can make your share thirty percent.''
"So you would want us to be your pack animals?" The male grimaced.
"Let me speak, Rasche," the woman said.
Reluctantly, Rasche backed down.
"We want fifty percent," she told Rytagir.
Rytagir smiled coldly. "We have to transport and arrange payment for salvage. That takes more time and effort. And more investment. We'll take sixty percent. That's as generous as I can be."
"Except you," the sea elf said. "If you find the document you seek, you still stand to make a profit. I know that wizards often pay well for spellbooks, and collectors pay for unique pieces of writing or art."
"Lady, I swear to you by all I hold holy that I'm not here for that kind of profit. I seek only papers and documents that will reveal more of the lost histories of some of the lands around this place."
The maid smiled. "Then I will pray for Deep Sashelas's pleasure that we will all find something worthwhile."
Deep Sashelas was the god of the undersea elves. He was known as the Knowledgeable One and the Master of Dolphins. Many undersea folk, and even some human sailors, worshiped him. Rytagir had a more than passing acquaintance with the altars dedicated to the Dolphin Prince.
He looked into those silver eyes and asked, "May I have your name, Lady?"
"Don't you dare transgress, human!" Rasche said, and shoved his spear toward Rytagir's face.
5
With blinding speed, Rytagir drew his long sword and slapped Rasche's spear aside. The blow knocked the sea elf off-balance and spun him around in the water.
Obviously embarrassed, Rasche whirled and twisted in the water to come back around almost immediately. His fingers and toes splayed to allow the webbing between them to better grasp the water as he hurled himself back at his chosen opponent.
"Rasche," the woman spoke in an authoritative tone. "Stand down."
Immediately, Rasche broke off his attack. Cruel invective in his native tongue filled the sea.
Rytagir didn't sheathe his sword. He held ready the spells that he knew. They weren't much, but they would have to serve. He knew he couldn't swim to the surface before the elves overtook him.
"Deep Sashelas preserve us from males and their warring ways," the woman said. She glared at Rasche and Rytagir alike. "Surely between the two of you there are more brains than a prawn has. If not, then this is not to be done today."
After a moment, Rytagir let out a tense breath and put his long sword away. He took his gaze from Rasche and looked at the woman.
"If I offended you, Lady, please know that I had no intention of doing so."
"I know that. It's just that these men have been entrusted to take care of me." She shot Rasche a quick glare. "They're acting on my father's orders. Much to my annoyance." Her silver eyes cut back to Rytagir. "I'm called Irdinmai."
The name meant nothing to Rytagir. But he could tell by her tone of voice that it meant something somewhere. He nodded. "Thank you, Lady. Then, with your leave, we'll inspect the ship."
"Of course. The sooner we deal with this, the better."
Rytagir walked through the water, deliberately setting himself apart from the alu Tel'Quessir who swam ahead of him. It was bad luck that he'd crossed paths with the sea elves. Captain Zahban wasn't going to be happy about the situation either. Rytagir fully expected to have the same argument with the ship's captain as he'd had with the sea elf woman. For the moment he chose to delay that confrontation.
At the entrance to the forward hold, Rytagir reached into his shoulder bag and took out a foot-long length of lucent coral. He unwrapped the heavy cloth that kept the pale blue light trapped inside.
With the coral, he could see several feet, but his vision was still blunted by the depth of the water. He fisted the coral and stepped through the cargo hold.
Many barrels floated against the opposite side of the hull. Most of those, according to the manifest, had been precious oils intended for use in perfumes and cooking. They were lighter than the water and floated as a result. Nearly all of the metal parts on the ship-and there were few-had rusted away. What remained wasn't worth salvaging.
The timbers, however, were a different matter. Most of them, if not all, had been preserved in the cold water. Also, most of the wood was precious. Peilam hadn't stinted on the construction of his vessel.
"What are you thinking?" Irdinmai asked.
"The salvage profits would be raised a lot if we could get the ship back to the surface." Rytagir rubbed a hand on the smooth wood.
Irdinmai shook her head. "I won't have this place destroyed. Or moved. It has become part of the sea now."
"These timbers are quite expensive," Rytagir pointed out. "If we were
to salvage them, the profits from this shipwreck-"
"If we were to salvage these timbers," the maid said, "then the creatures that have chosen to live and spawn here would lose their safe homes. The sea is cruel. Only the smartest and the quickest survive. This has been a home to these creatures for many generations. We're not going to move it."
Rytagir nodded. He knew Captain Zahban wouldn't care for the decision, but there was no choice. Not unless they wanted to fight the sea elves.
One of the elves called out in an excited voice, "Lady Irdinmai, please come see this."
6
Irdinmai pushed herself up from the ship's side and swam back toward the stern. Rytagir trailed in her wake.
Only a short distance farther on, he reached the mid shy;ships. Cargo had to be carefully planned and balanced by the quartermaster so it would ride comfortably during a voyage. It stood to reason that the gold would have been placed amidships.
Thick yellow bars of gold had spilled across the other side of the hull. The pale blue light of the lucent coral brought the dull shine to life.
Perhaps there wasn't enough of it to build a house, not even a small one, but there was enough to make them all wealthy for a short while.
Irdinmai looked at Rytagir. "When we begin taking this gold to the surface," she asked, "will we be able to trust that captain and crew?"
"Yes," Rytagir answered.
The sea elf maid regarded him coolly. "The alu Tel'Quessir know greed, not like the Lolth-loving Sser'tel'quessir, but we know it. We also know it is far stronger in surface dwellers."
"That captain and those men will stand firm by the bargain they have with me." Rytagir met her direct gaze full measure.
Irdinmai was silent for a moment. "And you'll be held accountable for them."
"I thought ye'd drownt," Zahban grumbled when Rytagir heaved himself aboard Azure Kestrel. "Either that or taken up residence with some sea hag what would have ye."