Sea of Swords pod-4

by Robert Salvatore

  And worse, to the elf's sensibilities, Drizzt Do'Urden would remain very much alive.

  Genny turned aside suddenly, down a narrow side passage. Both Genny and Le'lorinel had to drop to all fours to continue on, crawling under a low overhang of solid stone. Their three larger companions had to get right down on their bellies and crawl. On the other side was a wide chamber of startling design, widening up and out to the left, its stalactite ceiling many, many feet above.

  Genny didn't even look at it, though, but rather focused on a small hole in the floor, moving to a ladder that had been set into one wall. Down she went, followed by a guard, then Le'lorinel, then the other two.

  Far down, perhaps a hundred steps, they came to another corridor and set off, arriving soon after in another cave. It was a huge cavern, open to the southwest, to the rocky bay and the sea beyond. Water poured in from many openings in the walls and ceiling, the river emptying into the sea.

  In the cave sat Bloody Keel, moored to the western wall, with sailors crawling all over her repairing the rigging and hull damage.

  “Now that you've seen this much, you would be wise to pray to whatever god you know that Sheila Kree accepts you,” Genny whispered to the elf. “There are but two ways out of here: as a friend or as a corpse.”

  Looking at the ruffian crew scrambling all about the ship, cutthroats all, Le'lorinel didn't doubt those words for a moment.

  Genny led the way out of another exit, this one winding back up into the mountain from the back of the docking cave. The passages smelled of smoke, and were torch-lit all the way, so the escorting guards doused their own torches and put them away, Higher and higher they climbed into the mountain, passing storerooms and barracks, crossing through an area that seemed to Le'lorinel to be reserved for the pirates, and another horribly smelly place that housed the ogre clan.

  More than a few hungry gazes came the elf's way as they passed by the ravenous ogres, but none came close enough to even prod Le'lorinel. Their respect for Kree was tremendous, the elf recognized, simply from the fact that they weren't causing any trouble. Le'lorinel had enough experience with ogres to know that they were usually unruly and more than ready to make a meal of any smaller humanoid they encountered.

  They came to the highest levels of the mound soon after, pausing in an open chamber lined by several doors. Genny motioned for the other four to wait there while she went to the center door of the room, knocked, and disappeared through the door. She returned a short while later.

  “Come,” she bade Le'lorinel.

  When the three brutish guards moved to escort the elf, Genny held them at bay with an upraised hand. “Go get some food,” the brown-haired woman instructed the half-ogres.

  Le'lorinel glanced at the departing half-ogres curiously, not sure whether this signaled that Sheila Kree trusted Genny's word, or whether the pirate was simply too confident or too well-protected to care.

  Le'lorinel figured it must be the latter.

  Sheila Kree, dressed in nothing more than light breeches and a thin, sleeveless shirt, was standing in the room within, amongst piles of furs, staring out her window at the wide waters. She turned when Genny announced Le'lorinel, her smile bright on her freckled face, her green eyes shining under the crown of her tied-up red hair.

  “I've been told ye're fearing for me life, elf,” the pirate leader remarked. “I'm touched by yer concern.”

  Le'lorinel stared at her curiously.

  “Ye’ve come to warn me of a dark elf, so says Genny,” the pirate clarified.

  “I have come to slay a dark elf,” Le'lorinel corrected. “That my actions will benefit you as well is merely a fortunate coincidence.”

  Sheila Kree gave a great belly laugh and strode over to stand right in front of the elf, towering over Le’lorinel. The pirate's eyes roamed up and down Le'lorinel's slender, even delicate form. “Fortunate for yerself, or for me?”

  “For both, I would guess,” Le'lorinel answered.

  “Ye must hate this drow more than a bit to have come here,” Sheila Kree remarked.

  “More than you can possibly imagine.”

  “And would ye tell me why?”

  “It is a long tale,” Le'lorinel said.

  “Well, since winter's fast coming and Bloody Keel's, still in dock, it's looking like I've got the time,” Sheila Kree said with another laugh. She swept her arm out toward some piles of furs, motioning for Le'lorinel to join her.

  They talked for the rest of the afternoon, with Le'lorinel giving an honest, if slanted account of the many errors of Drizzt Do'Urden. Sheila Kree listened intently, as did Genny, as did a third woman, Bellany, who came in soon after the elf had begun the tale. All three seemed more than a little amused and interested, and as time went on, Le'lorinel relaxed even more.

  When the tale was done, both Bellany and Genny applauded, but just for a moment stopping and looking to Sheila for a cue.

  “A good tale,” the pirate leader decided. “And I find that I believe yer words. Ye'll understand that we've much to check on afore we let ye have a free run.”

  “Of course,” Le'lorinel agreed, giving a slight bow.

  “Ye give over yer weapons, and we'll set ye in a room,” Sheila explained. “I've no work for ye right now, so ye can get yer rest from the long road.” As she finished, the pirate held out her hand.

  Le'lorinel considered things for just a moment, then decided that Kree and her associates—especially the one named Bellany, who Le'lorinel had concluded was a spellcaster, likely a sorceress—in truth made surrendering the weapons nothing more than symbolic. With a smile at the fiery pirate, the elf turned over the dagger and sword.

  * * * * * * * * * * *

  “I suppose you consider this humorous,” Drizzt said dryly, his tone interrupted only by the occasional wheeze as he tried to draw breath.

  He was lying on the ground, facedown in the dirt, with six hundred pounds of panther draped over him. He had called up Guenhwyvar to do some hunting while he and Catti-brie continued their mock battle over the stew, but then the woman had whispered something in Guen's ear, and the cat, obviously gender loyal, had brought Drizzt down with a great flying tackle.

  A few feet away, Catti-brie was thoroughly enjoying her stew.

  “Ye do look a bit ridiculous,” she admitted between sips.

  Drizzt scrambled, and almost slipped out from under the panther. Guenhwyvar dropped a huge paw on his shoulder, extracting long claws and holding him fast.

  “Ye keep on with yer fighting and Guen'll have herself a meal,” Catti-brie remarked.

  Drizzt's lavender eyes narrowed. “There remains a small matter of repayment,” he said quietly.

  Catti-brie gave a snort, then moved down close to him, on her knees. She lifted a spoon full of stew and blew on it gently, then moved it out toward Drizzt, slowly, teasingly. It almost reached his mouth when the woman pulled it back abruptly, the spoon disappearing into her mouth.

  Her smile went away fast, though, as she saw Guenhwyvar dissipating into a gray mist. The cat protested, but the dismissal of her master, Drizzt, could not be ignored.

  Catti-brie darted off into the woods with Drizzt in fast pursuit.

  He caught her with a leaping tackle a short distance away, bearing her to the ground beneath him, then using his amazing agility and deceptive strength to roll her over and pin her. The firelight was lost behind the trees and shrubs, the starlight and the glow of a half moon alone highlighting the woman's beautiful features.

  “Ye call this repayment?” the woman teased when Drizzt was atop her, straddling her and holding her arms to the ground above her head.

  “Only beginning,” he promised.

  Catti-brie started to laugh, but stopped suddenly, her look to Drizzt becoming serious, even concerned.

  “What is it?” the perceptive drow asked. He backed off a bit, letting go of her arms.

  “With any luck, we'll be finding Wulfgar,” Catti-brie said.

  “That is
our hope, yes,” the drow agreed.

  “How're ye feeling about that?” the woman asked bluntly.

  Drizzt sat up straighter, staring at her hard. “How should I feel?”

  “Are ye jealous?” Catti-brie asked. “Are ye fearing that Wulfgar's return—if he should return with us, I mean—will change some things in yer life that ye're not wanting changed?”

  Drizzt gave a helpless chuckle, overwhelmed by Catti-brie's straightforwardness and honesty. Something was beginning to burn between them, the drow knew, something long overdue yet still amazing and unexpected. Catti-brie had once loved Wulfgar, had even been engaged to marry him before his apparent demise in Mithral Hall, so what would happen if Wulfgar returned to them now—not the Wulfgar who had run away, the Wulfgar who had slapped Catti-brie hard—but the man they had once known, the man who had once taken Catti-brie's heart?

  “Do I hope that Wulfgar's return will not affect our relationship in any negative way?” he asked. “Of course I do. And saying that, do I hope that Wulfgar returns to us? Of course I do. And I pray that he has climbed out of his darkness, back to the man we both once knew and loved.”

  Catti-brie settled comfortably and didn't interrupt, her interested expression prompting him to elaborate.

  Drizzt began with a shrug. “I do not wish to live my life in a jealous manner,” he said. “And I especially can not think in those terms with any of my true friends. My stake in Wulfgar's return is no less than your own. My happiness will be greater if once again the proud and noble barbarian I once adventured beside returns to my life.

  “As for our friendship and what may come of it,” Drizzt continued quietly, but with that same old self-assurance, that inner guidance that had walked the drow out of wicked Menzoberranzan and had carried him through so many difficult adventures and decisions ever since.

  He gave a wistful smile and a shrug. “I live my life in the best manner I can,” he said. “I act honestly and in good faith and with the hopes of good friendship, and I hope that things turn out for the best. I can only be this drow you see before you, whether or not Wulfgar returns to us. If in your heart and in mine, there is meant to be more between us, then it shall be. If not. . ” He stopped and smiled and shrugged again.

  “There ye go, with yer tongue wandering about again,” Catti-brie said. “Did ye ever think ye should just shut up and kiss me?”

  Chapter 12 THE LAVENDER-EYED STATUE

  Pull quiet, you oafs,” Gayselle softly scolded as the small skiff approached the imposing lights of Waterdeep Harbor. “I hope to make shore without any notice at all.”

  The three oarsmen, half-ogres with burly muscles that lacked a gentle touch, grumbled amongst themselves but did try, with no success, to quiet the splash of the oars. Gayselle suffered through it, knowing they were doing the best they could. She would be glad when this business was ended, when she could be away from her present companions, whose names she did not know but who she'd nicknamed Lumpy, Grumpy, and Dumb-bunny.

  She stayed up front of the skiff, trying to make out some markers along the shoreline that would guide her in. She had put into Waterdeep many, many times over the last few years and knew place well. Most of all now, she wanted to avoid the long wharves and larger ships, wanted to get into the smaller, less observed and regulated docks, where a temporary berth could be bought for a few coins.

  To her relief she noted that few of the guards were moving about the pier this dark evening. The skiff, even with the half-ogres splashing, had little trouble gliding into the collection of small docks to the south of the long wharves.

  Gayselle shifted back and reached to the nearest brute, Grumpy, holding out a satchel that held three small vials. “Drink and shift to human form,” she explained. When Grumpy gave her a lewd smile as he took the satchel, she added, “A male human form. Sheila Kree would not suffer one of you to even briefly assume the form of a woman.”

  That brought some more grumbling from the brutes, but they each took a bottle and quaffed the liquid contents. One after another they transformed their physical features into those of human men.

  Gayselle nodded with satisfaction and took a few long and steady breaths, considering the course before her. She knew the location of the target's house, of course. It was not far from the docks, set up on a hill above a rocky cove. They had to be done with this dark business quickly, she knew, for the polymorph potions would not last for very long, and the last thing Gayselle wanted was to be walking along Waterdeep's streets accompanied by a trio of half-ogres.

  The woman made up her mind then and there that if the potions wore off and her companions became obvious as intruders, she would abandon them and go off on her own, deeper into the city, where she had friends who could get her back to Sheila Kree.

  They set up the boat against one of the smaller docks, tying it off beside a dozen other similar boats quietly bumping the pier with the gentle ebb and flow of the tide. With no one about, Gayselle and her three “human” escorts moved with all speed to the north, off the docks and onto the winding avenues that would take them to Captain Deudermont's house.

  * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Not so far away, Drizzt and Catti-brie walked through Water-deep's northern gate, the drow easily brushing away the hard stares that came at him from nearly every sentry. One or two recognized him for who he was and said as much to their nervous companions, but it would take more than a few reassuring words to alleviate the average surface dweller's trepidation toward a drow elf.

  It didn't bother Drizzt, for he had played through this scenario hundred times before.

  “They know ye, don't ye worry,” Catti-brie whispered to him.

  “Some,” he agreed.

  “Enough,” the woman said flatly. “Ye canno' be expecting all the world to know yer name.”

  Drizzt gave a chuckle at that and shook his head in agreement. “And I know well enough that no matter what I may accomplish in my life, I will suffer their stares.” He gave a sincere smile and a shrug. “Suffer is not the right word,” he assured her. “Not any more.”

  Catti-brie started to respond but stopped short, her defiant words defeated by Drizzt's disarming smile. She had fought this battle for acceptance beside her friend for all these years, in Icewind Dale, in Mithral Hall and Silverymoon, and even here in Waterdeep, and in every city and town along the Sword Coast during the years they sailed with Deudermont. In many ways, Catti-brie understood at that telling moment, she was more bothered by the stares than was Drizzt. She forced herself to take his lead this time, to let the looks slide off her shoulders, for surely Drizzt was doing just that. She could tell from the sincerity of his smile.

  Drizzt stopped and spun about to face the guards, and the nearest couple jumped back in surprise.

  “Is Sea Sprite in?” the drow asked.

  “S-Sea Sprite?” one stammered in reply. “In where? What?”

  An older soldier stepped by the flustered pair. “Captain Deudermont is not yet in,” he explained. “Though he's expected for a last stop at least before the winter sets in.”

  Drizzt touched his hand to his forehead in a salute of thanks, then spun back and walked off with Catti-brie.

  * * * * * * * * * * * *

  Delly Curtie was in fine spirits this evening. She had this feeling that Wulfgar would soon return with Aegis-fang and that she and her husband could finally get on with their lives.

  Delly wasn't quite sure what that meant. Would they return to Luskan and life at the Cutlass with Arumn Gardpeck? She didn't think so. No, Delly understood that this hunt for Aegis-fang was about more than the retrieval of a warhammer—had it been just that, Delly would have discouraged Wulfgar from ever going out in search of the weapon.

  This hunt was about Wulfgar finding himself, his past and his heart, and when that happened, Delly believed, he would also find his way back home—his true home, in Icewind Dale.

  “And we will go there with him,” she said to Colson, as she held t
he baby girl out at arms length.

  The thought of Icewind Dale appealed to Delly. She knew the hardships of the region, knew all about the tremendous snows and powerful winds, of the goblins and the yetis and other perils. But to Delly, who had grown up on the dirty streets of Luskan, there seemed something clean about Icewind Dale, something honest and pure, and in any case, she would be beside the man she loved, the man she loved more every day. She knew that when Wulfgar found himself, their relationship would only grow stronger.

  She began to sing, then, dancing gracefully around the room, swinging Colson about as she turned and skittered, this way and that.

  “Daddy will be home soon,” she promised their daughter, and, as if understanding, Colson laughed.

  And Delly danced.

  And all the world seemed beautiful and full of possibilities.

  * * * * * * * * *

  Captain Deudermont's house was indeed palatial, even by Waterdhavian standards. It was two stories tall, with more than a dozen rooms. A great sweeping stairway dominated the foyer, which also sported a domed alcove that held two grand wooden double doors, each decorated with the carving of one half of a three-masted schooner. When the doors were closed, the image of Sea Sprite was clear to see. A second staircase in back led to the drawing room that overlooked the rocky cove and the sea.

  This was Waterdeep, the City of Splendors, a city of laws. But despite the many patrols of the fabled Waterdhavian Watch and the general civility of the populace, most of the larger houses, Deudermont's included, also employed personal guards.

  Deudermont had hired two, former soldiers, former sailors, both of whom had actually served on Sea Sprite many years before. They were friends as much as hired hands, house guests as much as sentries. Though they took their job seriously, they couldn't help but be lax about their work. Every day was inevitably uneventful. Thus, the pair helped out with chores, working with Delly at repairing the shingles blown away by a sea wind, or with the nearly constant painting of the clapboards. They cooked and they cleaned. Sometimes they carried their weapons, and sometimes they did not, for they understood, and so did Deudermont, that they were there more as a preventative measure than anything else. The thieves of Waterdeep avoided homes known to house guards.