Bloody remains hung heavily in the boughs above. They would have resembled the offal of a slaughterhouse, save for their incongruous location. Blood pattered down like the first kiss of rain. The Sharkers stared for long seconds.
Brinda pointed to a scrap of blood-sodden cloth dangling from the mess. It was a remnant of the striped shirt of the missing sailor.
“Found him,” said Anvil.
AN OPPORTUNITY FOR PROFIT
© 1998 TSR, Inc.
© 2013 Wizards of the Coast LLC
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For Michelle, my comrade.
Contents
Cover
The Double Diamond Triangle Saga Series
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Chapter 1: A Sailor’s Life
Chapter 2: Into the Woods
Chapter 3: Closing the Net
Chapter 4: Blood Begets Blood
Chapter 5: Crossing the Bridge
Chapter 6: Whispers By Moonlight
Chapter 7: Bait
Chapter 8: Beside the Fountain
About the Author
Chapter 1
A Sailor’s Life
A sailor’s life is ruled by precious few constant joys, thought Sharessa. One of those is the sight of land after a hard voyage. The crew and passengers of the Morning Bird paused to share a silent expectation after the first cry of “Land!” from the lookout perched high in the rigging. All eyes peered hard at the western horizon, the warm sun upon their bare heads. When the first line of shore defined itself against the gray sea, the pregnant sails seemed to tremble with the collective sigh of sailor and mercenary alike.
Then the ship lurched suddenly forward, and all smiles stopped.
Sharessa also knew that a sailor’s life is ruled by many fears. Food stores can run out or spoil far from shore. Storms can sweep a vessel from its course. Mutiny and disease can easily insinuate their black fingers through the close-packed ship’s crew. All these terrors serve a queen fear, the dreadful monarch of shipboard nightmare.
“We’re sinking!” cried the lookout.
The panic was brief but powerful. The crewmen stood paralyzed for a moment, waiting for Captain Turbalt to give their orders. The fat Tharkaran seaman stood staring at the shore, eyes wide in disbelief. It was a wonder he had survived the journey so far. He was made for easy commerce and fretless journeys.
“You three,” called Belmer, encircling three crewmen with a gathering finger. “Check the starboard hull. And you three, port.” The sailors glanced briefly at their captain, then obeyed the small, hard, olive-skinned man.
“Sharkers, help with the sails,” he continued. With economical grace, he walked along the port side of the deck, leaning over to check the outer hull every ten feet or so. The brilliant sun was reflected by a thousand ripples of the Great Sea of the Utter East. Belmer’s figure, standing above the mercenaries, was bathed in light. Sharessa stared at him until her eyes watered, and Belmer’s silhouette seemed to split into a multitude of dark figures.
The slim, dark-haired pirate worked with Anvil and Brindra, helping the nervous sailors make the most of the modest wind. She hadn’t felt an impact, but the sluggish motion of the ship could only mean a hull breach. The Morning Bird lurched again, this time reeling starboard. Surprised, Sharessa stumbled and fell. Her strong hands gripped the rail just in time to keep her aboard, but the sudden motion tipped her halfway over the side. The ship rolled back, and she started to pull herself on deck. She stopped when she saw the outer hull.
Just above the water line, the Morning Bird’s timbers were rotting away before Shar’s eyes. One board was sundered already, and those that remained stared out with a thousand hollow eyes, pitted and withered. As she watched, she saw the surface of the hull shrink and writhe.
“Look at this!” she called. Anvil and Brindra were at her side at once.
“Nine hells!” cursed Anvil.
“Maybe Belmer didn’t kill Redbeard’s wizard after all,” suggested Sharessa. She suppressed a shudder at the memory of Belmer’s sudden stab into the magical eye they had discovered aboard a few days ago.
“Damn his eyes,” said Anvil. “I wish Kurthe had killed—”
“Hsst!” warned Brindra. Her eyes flicked behind them. Belmer was coming toward them.
“—killed Redbeard,” continued Anvil, with only a brief hesitation. “And his thrice-damned wizard. Whatever’s eating this ship, it’s sorcery.”
Brindra nodded, her eyes still on Belmer as he leaned over the edge to see the damage. When he stood up again, he seemed tiny beside Anvil’s massive figure. Sharessa knew that despite his stature, he was the most dangerous man on the ship.
“Sorcery is right, and there’s little we can do about that,” Belmer said. “We might still make it to shore.”
“Back to the sails,” said Sharessa, anticipating his order. Belmer nodded at her.
“Have Rings, Belgin, and Ingrar join the men below,” he added. “If they can reinforce the remaining timbers…”
“Aye,” said Sharessa. He nodded curtly and turned away.
Since Kurthe’s death at Belmer’s hands, Sharessa had assumed an unspoken position of leadership among the pirates. It was to her that Belmer gave his commands for the Sharkers. Perhaps it was because she was the first to re-declare her obedience after the outlander put Kurthe’s dagger into the pirate’s own throat. Or maybe it was something else. She remembered that upon first meeting the Sharkers, Belmer had known her nickname, Shadow. That flattered her, but it also made her uncomfortable, especially since the Sharkers knew so little about their new employer. The man was made wholly of secrets.
After relaying Belmer’s orders, Sharessa joined Anvil and Brindra at the rigging. No matter how much they distrusted Belmer, he had gotten them away from Redbeard’s ship and through the mysterious fog that sped their journey. And the pay was good—more than good—if they survived to collect it.
Across the deck, a handful of frightened sailors tried to follow Captain Turbalt’s halting and contradictory command
s. Sharessa was amazed that Belmer hadn’t killed or at least deposed the craven captain and taken command himself. The Tharkaran had repeatedly proven himself cowardly and incompetent. Sharessa and the other Sharkers ignored him, tacking sail against the wind as best they could. The few sailors who remained calm followed the Sharkers’ lead without question. Soon they worked in unison, silent in their determination to reach land before the ship sank.
A desperate hour later, the shore had grown larger but not yet close enough for swimming. Rings stomped up on deck, his craggy dwarven face red with exertion. A dozen electrum loops jingled from his ears, and one thick ring depended from his nose. A stench of hot tar followed him from below decks, as did three choking sailors.
“No good,” said Rings. “It’s moving faster. The hull’s just dissolving before our eyes. Every time we patch a spot, another bursts open.”
“If Belmer hadn’t burned our deck boats…” began Brindra.
“Then we’d all have died back in Tharkar,” snapped Sharessa.
Brindra’s hot gaze bore into Sharessa’s face. Shar stared coolly back, and after a moment the bigger woman looked away. Sharessa had been as astonished as anyone when Belmer purposefully set fire to the four deck boats during the first attack on the Morning Bird. The ploy had worked, however, and they had escaped that time.
Before Sharessa could think of anything to say to Brindra, Ingrar and Belgin staggered up on deck with the last of the repair crew. Ingrar’s young face was red and puffy, his eyes streaming tears from the noxious tar. Belgin coughed into his hand, worse than usual.
“We’re in for another swim,” grumbled Belgin. Sharessa remembered the stench of burning flesh and the screams of their dying shipmates from the Kissing Shark. Were they cursed? This would be the second ship they’d lost in less than a moon’s life.
“Sharkers,” called Belmer from his high perch among the ropes. “Take the sails again. Turbalt, have your men form bailing lines.”
“That won’t work,” whined Turbalt. “We’ll never make it to…”
“Do as you’re told,” said Belmer. He looked at Turbalt’s feet. The Tharkaran was standing on the dark stain that Kurthe had left, a reminder of the price of disobedience. Turbalt made a frantic little dance to move off the bloody spot.
The crew moved to obey Belmer without awaiting a command from their captain. Turbalt chewed the air and wept, muttering, “My ship… my ship…”
No one spoke as they bailed and tacked. The ship sank lower and lower, and soon the waves threw more water onto the deck than the men could bail. They would never make it all the way to shore. They worked only to close the distance. The shorter they had to swim, the less chance of becoming food for sharks.
A tremendous creak sounded from below, ending in a powerful crack. The Bird listed hard to port again. Sharessa could feel no more forward motion.
“We’ve struck a reef!” cried one of the ship’s crew.
“No,” called Rings. “We’ve lost another timber below the water line.”
“We’re lost! We’re sunk!” screamed Turbalt.
“Ye’re right about that, at least,” grumbled Rings. He was busy strapping his axes tightly to his back. The other Sharkers followed his example and gathered their belongings. Some of the crewmen were doing the same, while others—including Turbalt himself—had already flung themselves into the water and begun swimming to avoid the deadly suction of a sinking vessel.
“Ready?” asked Belmer. He had made a pack for himself, including a lantern and a long coil of rope, which he handed to Anvil. The big man looped it over his thick shoulder without comment. The Sharkers all touched their gear one last time, hoping it wasn’t too much to carry to shore. One by one, they nodded and said, “Aye.”
“Abandon ship.”
Chapter 2
Into the Woods
Sharessa loved the sunset best near the shore. The open sea was too vast for its molten beauty. A million waves reflected and dispersed the dying light, diluting it with boundless distance. Near land, however, she could see the sun descend hot and swollen into the darkening horizon, casting purple shadows over the green hills. Sharessa could vanish into those shadows, silent and invisible, one with her namesake, the goddess of shadows.
Such escape would be a comfort after the past week of catastrophe and loss. Sharessa thought about how much had passed since they had agreed to follow Belmer.
At first, Sharessa and the other Sharkers had fallen into the old patterns of obedience. Belmer assumed command with such confidence that none questioned him—not even Kurthe, at first. It was more comfortable to follow than to lead, especially in the wake of the Kissing Shark’s destruction. Ovrim Redbeard, a vicious rival, had burned their ship; their captain, Blackfingers Ralingor, had been a casualty of the disaster. Redbeard would have killed the rest of them back in Tharkar, if a surprising benefactor hadn’t helped them escape.
Belmer had filled Blackfingers’s place quickly, proving his promises with quick action. He had seen them safely out of the Tavern of the Masques, all right. He had even led them to a safe house below the Ankle Bells and discarded the fiction of his “Ambassador Droon” identity as soon as they were safe from pursuit. He’d asked for their trust, and he’d seemed to earn it. At least they’d had no better offers.
Moreover, Belmer offered payment beyond anything Sharessa had ever earned from pirating. Perhaps they had been too quick to jump at such an outrageous sum, but they were leaderless and hunted. Belmer’s insistence on contracts did much to allay their suspicions. This they had seen before. It was just business.
Now Sharessa wasn’t so sure it was good business. As their journey continued, they kept learning more about Belmer. He shed his disguise in Redbeard’s first attack, and later he told them that they were to find a kidnapped woman and kill her.
Every time Sharessa thought she was beginning to understand the man, he removed another ruse, revealing another story she was sure would turn out to be yet another ruse. How could they trust him?
Finally, when Kurthe defied Belmer, the little man proved himself a cold and deadly swordsman. Sharessa wanted to believe that Belmer had given Kurthe a chance to obey by drawing out the fight, but Anvil and Brindra seemed sure that Belmer was just playing with him, using his death as an example to the others. If so, the lesson had worked.
Still, the Sharkers were more afraid of drowning than of Belmer. Not so long ago, they had escaped the burning wreckage of their previous ship, the Kissing Shark. In the aftermath of Redbeard’s surprise attack, the surviving Sharkers had swum through cold, black waters, the horrid odor of their burning shipmates in every gasping breath. The stink of hot pitch was far preferable.
“We keep outlasting our ships,” said Jolloth Burbuck. He stood beside Sharessa, turned away from the sun. The scars on his face grew deep and black in the shadows. Everyone who knew him called him “the Anvil” for his battered visage, but Shar also knew it was for his iron toughness. She nodded sadly and turned to follow his gaze, past the shore, where the beached crew of the Morning Bird slumped dejectedly, toward the listing mast of their sunken ship. The rest of the Tharkaran caravel lay beneath the surf, its hull sundered by magical rot.
Near Anvil and Sharessa, Brindra pushed herself up from the beach, slapping sand off her clothes with hands like thick slabs of pork. The muscles of her arms rippled in contrast to her barrel-shaped torso. As she rose, she towered over Rings, who stood with his own hairy arms crossed upon his chest. Together, the fat woman and the bald dwarf were the ugliest of the Sharkers. They looked right standing next to each other.
“Fortune smiles on the Sharkers,” said Rings with a wink.
“Those the sea hasn’t swallowed,” countered Brindra with a scowl. There had been no distracting her since Belmer killed Kurthe. Sharessa knew that Brindra would never forgive that particular act of “discipline” from Belmer, even though their employer had transfixed the hot-headed Sharker with the same dagger Kurthe h
ad thrown at him.
Behind Brindra and Rings stood Belgin and Ingrar, the two Edenvalers. Belgin wheezed and stroked his chin as if preparing to make some witty remark. Instead, he coughed into his fist. While fit enough for sailing and fighting, the chubby gambler seemed perpetually ill.
“It’s getting dark,” said Ingrar. His damp clothes clung to his youthful frame, and he shivered. But his eyes followed the dark-haired Sharesssa and the rivulets of water that ran down her tawny skin and coursed beneath her low-cut shirt.
Anvil nodded. “Where’s Belmer? We should move inland before making camp.”
Sharessa shook her head. “He was talking to the crew of the Morning Bird. He’s in the forest now.”
“Maybe he’s decided to head to Eldrinpar by himself,” suggested Ingrar. He looked worried, like a country boy who has lost track of his father in the city market. He peered into the dense woods, then closed his eyes to listen for any sound when he saw nothing.
“Good riddance, if he did,” said Brindra. Rings put a hand on her thick biceps, but she shrugged it off angrily.
“But we have contracts,” said Ingrar petulantly. Shar had to look again to see that the swim hadn’t shrunk the young man back into a small child. He was more shaken by recent setbacks than anyone.
“Contracts mean little to a man who’ll kill his own crew,” spat Brindra.
“Hsst!” Ingrar hissed a warning. “You never know when he’ll walk up behind you.”
Brindra sneered, making her homely face even uglier. “We’re out in the open. Unless he can hide behind a grain of sand…”
Rings turned his head suddenly, staring behind Brindra with eyes wide and mouth open. The big woman whirled, seeing nothing but empty beach behind her. Rings chuckled when Brindra tried to glare at him. She lost her stern expression when Sharessa covered her mouth to hide her own smile.
“Why, you miniature…”
“Belmer had no choice,” said Rings, shifting back to the subject at hand. “Ye saw what happened, and y’know how Kurthe is.”
Forgotten Realms - [Double Diamond Triangle Saga 05] - An Opportunity for Profit Page 1