Rising Tide (30 page)

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 litaar 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 different from the Amman 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?”

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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.”

“Touche,” 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 litaar 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 litaar 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

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 hung 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.

The malenti was aware of how much the surface world was talking about the attack because Iakhovas had assigned her to gather information. She’d resented being taken from the village. From so far away she couldn’t watch the wizard as closely as she want to. She was getting the feeling that Iakhovas was spending more time away, too, maybe on the surface. His casual disregard for all the history surrounding them now made her angry. “You should be more respectful,” she said. He lifted his head from the object he was studying, fixing her with his one-eyed gaze. “I bid you to take care in what you choose to say, little malenti. It doesn’t take much effort to detect a note of insubordination in your voice.” She swallowed her anger but didn’t break eye contact. “A true sahuagin would feel reverent about this place. It was the first home of the sahuagin.” “How came you to this belief?” “It’s what I’ve been told.”

“Then it would probably shatter your certitude to know that everything you’ve heard about that is a fabrication.” The announcement was like a sudden, unexpected slap across the face. Before Laaqueel could figure out how she wanted to reply and still ensure her own survival, the tunnel took a sudden turn to the left and up. At the end of the new tunnel, the largest clam Laaqueel had ever seen opened at their approach.

Fifty or more sahuagin guards, dressed in harnesses bearing the royal seal, a white shark set against the dark blue of the ocean, filled the area. Their tridents were black, cut from the shafts of obsidian that were mined from the veins created by underwater volcanic eruptions in the area hundreds of years ago. Serviceable and distinct, the weapon of each sahuagin guard of the Royal Black Tridents was never out of the bearer’s hand from the time he was given it to the time he died. Even then, it passed from the guard to his hand-picked successor. They were ruled only by the king and the nine official Royal Tridents.

The sahuagin guards bristled, flanking the flier as Iakhovas gave the command for it to stop. In a heartbeat, the flier pulled to a full halt and hung suspended in the air, the fins of the sahuagin below maintaining the distance above the cavern floor.

One of the guards moved forward and set his trident deliberately on the front of the flier. He was one of the most fearsome sahuagin Laaqueel had ever seen. Scars lined his powerful torso and one of his ears had been bitten off in battle. Bite marks from another sahuagin pinched up his right cheek, giving him a mocking, cruel smile that revealed a few fangs. The flesh had turned dead white from the injury.