The Lost Library of Cormanthyr

by Mel Odom

  “So it wasn’t unusual for Golsway to deal with someone like Uziraff?”

  “No. In fact, most of the business we did involved dealings with people like him. And much worse.” Baylee handed another section of orange to Xuxa. “There are some who lure a willing buyer into a remote location to close the sale, then kill him and seek out yet another buyer.”

  “When we see Uziraff, will we be able to trust him?”

  “If we don’t let him out of our sight.”

  “He has a crew and a ship?”

  “Yes.”

  Cthulad made a sighing noise. “Have you considered the fact that there are only two of us—”

  Three, Xuxa added.

  “Three,” Cthulad corrected himself, “of us who are walking into this pirate’s den to strike a deal with him?”

  “There is no one else to deal with,” Baylee stated simply.

  “It will be hard to hold him accountable to any bargain we may strike. Unless you know something I don’t.”

  “If we try to hold him accountable by force,” Baylee said, “he’ll know he has something worth a great deal. It would make him even harder to bargain with.”

  Cthulad gazed out over the open sea for a time. “I’d feel better if we had a small group of battle-hardened men.”

  “If that were the case,” Baylee said, “we wouldn’t even find Uziraff.”

  “What is it Uziraff has?”

  “The location to a shipwreck that happened during the Flight of the Elves from Myth Drannor,” Baylee explained. Then he embellished the story, bringing in all the details of Faimcir Glitterwing that Golsway had told him.

  When he finished, Cthulad said, “Evidently the library is guarded by someone with a lot of power. Even if you are able to divine the library’s location from something in the shipwreck, there remains that to consider.”

  “I know,” Baylee said. “But I’m working on this expedition only one miracle at a time.”

  “Perhaps it would be better to ask for help from Waterdeep. They have shown an interest. And I’ve some knowledge of Lord Piergeiron.”

  “You know him?”

  “We’ve met.”

  Suspicions filled Baylee’s head. Xuxa?

  His thoughts are unreadable to me, the azmyth bat responded. But everything I can sense about him and his reasons for joining us are nothing but good and honorable.

  “Lord Piergeiron would undoubtedly be interested in your mission,” the old ranger went on.

  “I prefer to chart my own course for the time,” Baylee stated evenly. “Gifted as Lord Piergeiron may be in other matters, this is my field of experience.”

  “I understand perfectly,” Cthulad replied. “I only sought to offer an alternative that may be more palatable at a later date.”

  “We’ll consider it then,” Baylee said. “Until such time, I still have to find Uziraff.”

  “Shouldn’t we have overtaken Kerrijan’s Hammer by now?” Cordyan Tsald asked, shading her eyes as she peered out over the Sea of Swords.

  “Thirteen hours to be precise,” Westalfe Sternrudder replied. The dwarf captain stood beside Cordyan on the specially built box in the prow of his ship that gave him a higher perspective than his short size would normally have provided. He was thick-bodied and able, with a square-cut black beard and a weathered, pinched face. “And we lay fallow for two days early on in this venture, as I’m sure you recall, while waiting for the winds to become more favorable. There was every chance that Kerrijan’s Hammer wasn’t so encumbered by fate.” He patted the railing of the ship with genuine affection. “Tsunami Dancer is a proud ship. She’ll do fine by you in the end. You’ll see.”

  Cordyan gave up staring across the blue-green expanse of sea. She hated traveling by ship. The only way to truly see the world was from the saddle of a horse. “How far out from Caer Callidyrr are we?”

  “Another two or three days,” the dwarf captain answered, “should see us in the anchorage. Even if Kerrijan’s Hammer wasn’t mired in the windless sea as we were, we should arrive within a few hours of her. One way or the other.”

  Cordyan excused herself and walked back amidships.

  “Troubled?” Calebaan asked. He sat in the shade of the main mast, reading a tome of magic that was written in a language Cordyan had no comprehension of.

  “No,” she answered irritably.

  Calebaan closed the book, using a cloth ribbon to mark his place. “You received this ship when you asked Lord Piergeiron.”

  “Somewhat reluctantly, it seemed to me.”

  “Yet here you are.” The watch wizard paused. “There are times in your life, Cordyan, when you just have to trust to the gods.”

  “I would,” the watch lieutenant agreed, “except that I know there are those among the gods themselves who would only see evil wrought Cyric casts a long shadow these days.”

  “So you see Cyric’s hand in this?” Calebaan seemed slightly amused.

  “Stuck aboard this ship this past tenday, especially with the two days of lackluster sails,” Cordyan snapped, “I’ve had time to see this pursuit from all sides.”

  “Don’t give up on your ranger,” the watch wizard counseled. “From the time I knew him, and from the stories Civva Cthulad knew of him, Baylee Arnvold is quite a resourceful man.”

  Cordyan silently hoped it was true. But then, she knew the enemies the ranger had were also quite resourceful.

  Krystarn Fellhammer’s eyes ached from constant staring at the crystal ball Shallowsoul had charged her with. She had used her contacts among the docks of Waterdeep to find out all the ships that had left within a few hours of Baylee Arnvold’s disappearance from the city. It had been twelve days, and she still could not believe so many had left at that time, nor that she had been through them all, yet hadn’t found the ranger.

  Still, he was one man among a whole crew. It would have been easier searching for a party rather than an individual.

  She silently damned his soul once more, and leaned back from the crystal ball. She stood and crossed the room to the wine flask in the corner, pouring herself a small drink.

  Shallowsoul had allowed her to bring the crystal ball to her rooms within the subterranean complex, convincing Krystarn that the lich was indeed concerned about the ranger’s actions. She couldn’t understand why. The Moonshaes were a long distance from the depths beneath Myth Drannor.

  The crystal ball, though, was a blessing. When she had brought the device through the dimensional door leading to the library, she had felt within the crystal ball the resonance that opened the door. After working on it for a time, she felt certain she might be able to open the door with a spell of her own, triggering the release of the magic Shallowsoul already had in place.

  But a more proper time awaited. She was beginning to think it might be in her best interests to see that Baylee Arnvold did in fact arrive at Myth Drannor, providing a diversion for the lich.

  The twisted path of her plan delighted her. It was the first of any sort that she’d found with any hope of achieving her own goals. Mother Lloth willing, she could soon act like a true drow for the first time in over four years.

  She returned to the crystal ball and peered into the glass. It was still tracking the latest ship she searched. She waved a hand over it, thinking of Chomack, Taker of Dragon’s Teeth and Chief of the Sumalich Tribe.

  The crystal ball clouded for a moment, then opened again to an image within the vast caverns outside the library area. The hobgoblin chieftain was locked in battle with another hobgoblin.

  Krystarn watched in growing fascination as the hobgoblin chieftain cracked his whip across his opponent’s face, wrapping the strands about the other hobgoblin’s head. Then he lunged in with his short sword, knocking aside his opponent’s axe and burying the blade in the hobgoblin’s heart.

  With a shudder, the other hobgoblin dropped to the cavern floor.

  Chomack stepped back, holding his bloody sword aloft in victory.

&nb
sp; Opening her perspective of the view offered, Krystarn saw that the hobgoblin chieftain was surrounded by nearly four times as many hobgoblins as the day she’d found him. Evidently the one-on-one fight had been for the control of the tribe recently encountered.

  “Chomack,” Krystarn said into the crystal ball.

  The hobgoblin chieftain stared up, searching. “What do you want?”

  The other hobgoblins drew their weapons and stepped back. Some of them yelled for Chomack to take cover.

  “I look in on you today,” Krystarn said, “only to offer my congratulations. Your tribe has grown.”

  “Because I am strong enough to take them,” the chieftain roared back.

  A ragged cheer broke from the ranks of the hobgoblins. Many of them beat their swords against their shields.

  “I also remind you of your promise to me,” Krystarn said.

  “I will keep it,” the hobgoblin growled. “As long as you keep your end of the bargain.”

  “Chomack,” Krystarn said, thinking of the gold and silver that must be secreted away in the library, “I shall give you even more than I promised.” She waved over the crystal ball and picked the next ship on her list. Its name was Tsunami Dancer. She had scried it twice before, feeling an empathy within it when she’d searched for Baylee Arnvold.

  20

  “Uziraff Fireblade is in the back, but I wouldn’t go in there if I was you.”

  Baylee looked at the whiskered barkeep behind the scarred counter of the Fickle Mermaid. The place was one the ranger vaguely remembered from a time when he and Golsway had been through the area to talk to Uziraff before. The decor was bawdy, featuring a few dozen carved mermaid statues in various forms of debauchery with mermen, humans, and even unicorns. All of the statues had been glued to whatever surface they sat on to keep the tavern’s patrons from walking off with them.

  “And why not?” Baylee asked.

  “He’s talking business with someone.”

  From behind the door to the barkeep’s left came the sound of blows being struck, leaving no illusions about what was going on.

  “Talking?” Baylee asked. “Or listening?”

  The barkeep gave an evil grin. “Uziraff owns the Fickle Mermaid. I don’t think anyone could make him listen in here.”

  Baylee walked around the end of the bar as someone groaned in pain.

  The barkeep reached for a belaying pin he kept under the counter. He fisted it and came at Baylee. “I told you stay out of this.”

  Before the man knew it, Civva Cthulad had his long sword at the end of the man’s nose. “Unless,” the old ranger said in a calm voice, “you wish to learn to start breathing through your ears, step away.”

  The barkeep went cross-eyed looking at the unwavering sword tip. Conversation across the rest of the bar died as heads turned to the counter. A few men got up, their hands going to their hilts.

  “Gentlemen,” Cthulad said, addressing the crowd, “I assure you taking part in this would be your greatest mistake. I will kill the first man to interfere with us just to let the ones who follow have no surprise what their fates may be.”

  “This isn’t exactly the quiet kind of entrance I had in mind when we came here,” Baylee said in a low voice.

  “You dealt the play when you threw the dice,” the old ranger replied. “You could have waited till Uziraff was finished with his business.”

  But Baylee couldn’t have, because he thought he knew what kind of business it was that Uziraff was conducting. He watched as the men in the bar stood their ground, wary of Cthulad’s sword. Baylee placed his hand on the doorknob and found it locked. He knelt and used a set of lock picks he carried with him, then passed through.

  The room on the other side of the door looked nothing like the rest of the bar. A few books lined one wall, a hodgepodge of subjects, titles, and authors. Baylee doubted that Uziraff had read any of them. Niches held other vases and objects d’art, none of them worth much, actually on display in the room for their visual impact. Twisted creatures held men in their grip, sometimes even whole ships. A model of a treant held two humans in its branches while fire surrounded its base.

  Generous in floor space, the room held a large desk, two couches, and a half dozen chairs in front of the desk. The first time Baylee had seen the office, he thought it hadn’t fit the pirate’s reputation.

  But today, seeing Uziraff with his knee in the chest of a young man sprawled across that desk, a lead-filled cestus covering one hand, Baylee thought that it looked more representative of the pirate.

  “Who dares interrupt me?” Uziraff roared, turning to look over his shoulder at the door. He was a little more than six feet tall, bronzed from the sea and the wind, and his dirty blond hair was pulled back out of his face. Wide gold hoops dangled from his ears. His beard was full, but kept short, following the angles of his face. He wore a red silk shirt and black, heavy-weight breeches that tucked into roll-top boots.

  The boy’s one eye that wasn’t swelled shut stared in rounded terror. Blood covered his bruised and battered face, and ran down his neck. Two men held his arms spread out at his sides.

  “You know me,” Baylee said. He gestured for Xuxa. The azmyth bat leaped from behind him.

  Uziraff didn’t move from his victim. The pirate’s face twisted in a grimace. “Fannt Golsway’s whelp. I’ve heard the old mage finally got himself killed.”

  Xuxa landed under one of the supports across the ceiling, hanging upside down. She kept her wings open for immediate movement if necessary. Be careful, she advised.

  “Get off that boy,” Baylee ordered.

  Uziraff didn’t move. “This boy stole from me. I was only teaching him a lesson, and deciding whether I should take a hand for my trouble as well.”

  “And this is the man you’re going to deal with?” Cthulad asked quietly, pulling the door closed to the main bar.

  “I’ll not trouble to tell you again,” Baylee said in a cold voice.

  “You dare to come here and tell me how to run my affairs?” Uziraff laughed, joined by his men, who started to close in, drawing their weapons.

  As quick as thought itself, Cthulad stepped forward. His long sword swept out before him in a series of strokes. Three men lost their weapons, drawing back bleeding hands.

  Uziraff abandoned his victim, reaching for the cutlass in the red sash at his waist. “I’ll suffer no such treatment of my authority under my roof, old man.”

  Cthulad turned to face the freebooter. “The boy here wants you left alive. I’ll humor him as long as I am able.” His long sword rose to an en garde position. “Though, by nature, I am not a fanciful man, I must warn you.”

  “Who are you, old man, to come to me in such a threatening manner?” Uziraff demanded.

  “I am Civva Cthulad, justifier, a known warrior and general of armies. I was raised on combat, schooled in warfare, and have kept a sword as my constant companion for as long as I can remember.”

  “I have heard of you, Justifier, but usually you are with an army in one nation or the other of the Dalelands. Here you are just one man. Perhaps only a breath short of dying.”

  “And perhaps even further than that,” Cthulad challenged.

  Xuxa spread her wings and shrieked, startling several of the pirates into dodging back. Do not forget about me, Uziraff Fireblade. No one will touch Baylee without paying full measure.

  “Let the boy go,” Baylee commanded.

  “You’re not even armed,” Uziraff protested.

  “That can change. There happen to be a number of swords laying here on the ground. I’m proficient with any style of them.”

  “What do you want?” Uziraff asked. “I know you didn’t come here to save this miserable wretch.” He nodded at the boy.

  “I came here about the pictograph you found and took to Golsway.”

  Uziraff’s interest showed on his face. “I thought there might be more than Golsway let on.” He gestured to the two men holding the boy across h
is desk.

  The men released the boy, who stumbled out of the room. He shot Baylee a look of thanks.

  Uziraff took a bar towel from a nearby chair and wiped the blood from the desk. “Sit down and we’ll talk.”

  Baylee took a chair and sat in front of the desk. “I want to find the area where the pictograph came from.”

  “That can be costly,” Uziraff said.

  “If it’s too costly,” Baylee said, “then I’ll go elsewhere.”

  Uziraff leaned across the desk and put a thumb to his chest. “I sent that pictograph to Golsway. How many other men do you think knows where it was even found?”

  “I don’t know,” Baylee said, “but I can start by checking to see who disappeared or turned up dead around that time. It could be that I’ll discover that person was the first to find the pictograph. And it could be that the pictograph was offered to other buyers before you ended up with it.”

  “Golsway trained you well,” Uziraff said.

  “Yes.” Baylee returned the pirate’s level gaze. Can you read any part of his thoughts?

  As always, Xuxa replied, Uziraff’s mind is closed to me. But I do sense some of the emotion connected to the pictograph. He possesses a lot of excitement about it And he is knows more than he is telling. I do sense some anxiety as well.

  “What can you pay?” the pirate asked.

  “Five hundred gold pieces,” Baylee said.

  Uziraff broke into a loud booming laugh. “For a trip such as that, I’d require nothing less than ten thousand gold pieces.”