Tantras (30 page)

“Something’s happened to you, Kelemvor. And you should know me well enough to understand that you can trust me with whatever has happened.” The mage paused and looked at the door. “You can whisper if you must, if you’re afraid of the others overhearing,” Midnight told her former lover.

“There is nothing to tell,” Kelemvor said, smiling weakly. “I just need a meal. I need to clean my wounds. You’re letting your imagination get the better of you.”

Midnight gazed into his eyes. The fighter was lying.

“I suppose you’re right,” the magic-user said coldly as she turned from Kelemvor. “Varden knows a way out of the city, but we will require your assistance. Will you help?”

A look of confusion crossed the fighter’s face. “Of course I will.”

“Then it’s settled,” Midnight snapped, reaching for her dagger and drawing the weapon from its sheath. “It’s settled that you betrayed us!”

Kelemvor made no move as the point of Midnight’s dagger found his throat in a ferocious, quicksilver motion. The mage stopped her hand, and the knife’s point touched the fighter’s skin but didn’t break it.

“You are bound by your curse, Kelemvor,” the mage hissed. “You can do nothing without promise of a reward. Yet when I asked you to help us get out of the city, you asked for nothing in return. That means that someone has already paid you… to lead us into a trap!”

The fighter closed his eyes and took a sharp breath. “Everything you’ve said is wrong. Even about the curse.”

“What?” Midnight cried, confusion on her face. “The curse is gone? Who removed it?”

The fighter swallowed, then his hand shot out and grabbed Midnight’s wrist. He twisted until the dagger fell to the ground. Kelemvor spun Midnight around, knocking her from her feet, and wrapped one of his powerful arms around her neck. With his free arm, Kelemvor steadied the mage before she could fall and pinned her arms to her body. Varden and Adon rushed into the room.

The blond thief drew his dagger and Adon hefted the war hammer that the old man had given him when they first entered the safe house. “Let her go, you Zhentish dog,” the thief yelled.

“Not until I’ve had my say!” the fighter growled. “So just stay back and listen.” Adon took a step forward and Kelemvor tightened his grip on the mage. “I’ll break her neck if you come any closer,” the fighter lied.

When the thief and the cleric stood still, Kelemvor began his story. “Bane did send me here to gain your confidence. I was to lead you all out of the safe house, subdue Midnight, and bring her to the Black Lord.”

Adon cursed and spat at Kelemvor’s feet. “How much did he pay you, Kel? What did you trade our lives for?”

Midnight tried to struggle, but Kelemvor tightened his grip again. “Bane removed my curse,” he hissed. “But I lied to Bane, the way he lied to me. I never intended to bring you to him. I want to go to Tantras with you, help you finish this damned quest… because you’re my friends.” The fighter paused and loosened his grip on Midnight. “Not for any payment. Just because I care about you.”

Kelemvor released Midnight and backed away. The mage fell forward, but kneeled where she fell, her back to the fighter. “I want to believe you, Kel. I don’t know how I can trust you after all that’s happened… but I do.”

“You can’t be serious!” Varden cried, taking a step toward the fighter. “He was going to kill you.”

“Not likely,” Adon said softly and put down his war hammer. “He could have killed her long before we rushed into the room, Varden.” The cleric looked at Kelemvor, who returned his gaze with tear-filled eyes. “I know about suffering, Kel. Mine is not like yours, but all who suffer know what it is to want their pain to end.” Adon walked to Kelemvor’s side and put his hand on the fighter’s shoulder. “Perhaps I’d even lie to a god to end mine, too.”

By now the Sembian soldier and the married couple who ran the safe house had rushed to the room. As they stood in the doorway, Varden muttered a curse and turned to them. “It’s nothing,” he grumbled. “They seem to have worked it out for themselves.”

“Well, the sooner you’re gone, the better,” the old woman croaked as she brought some food into the room on a tray. Then the old couple, Varden, and the Sembian left the heroes alone.

Midnight, Adon, and Kelemvor talked as the fighter ate. And though Cyric was missing, the little time the three heroes had together in the safe house was the happiest they had shared for a long time.

An hour later, after gathering their few belongings and acquiring mounts, clothing for Kelemvor, and supplies, the heroes left the safe house. Varden rode beside Kelemvor at the front of the small band. The thief knew the best route through the city, but the fighter knew how to avoid the Zhentilar. The heroes secured their horses three blocks from the harbor and walked the rest of the way. As they reconnoitered the port, Kelemvor began to relax. Despite the Zhentilar that were stationed there, the vast stretches of the shipping yards made the area impossible to secure with any degree of certainty. Only a single watchman stood between the heroes and the Queen of the Night, an ebon slave ship used by the Zhentilar to transport illegal cargo and avoid taxation.

“We’ll need a boat with speed and power if we’re to escape the blockade,” Varden said as they studied the slave galley. “What could be better than one of Bane’s best?”

On the bow, a huge, half-naked wildman with bright yellow hair had been chained to a post and was enduring the lashes of the galley master’s whip. The slave hurled curses and threats at his tormentor, and the heroes were able to see the slave’s face for a moment. One of the wildman’s eyes was missing, as if it had been gouged out in a tight.

“Had enough?” the galley master called as he lowered the whip.

“Set me free!” the slave wailed. “I’ll rip your arms from their sockets and beat you with them. Then I’ll tear your head off and -“

Enraged, the galley master cracked his whip again. The slave’s threat was never finished. The black-garbed galley master whipped the slave until the man sank to his knees and his head lolled back, a vacant expression in his eyes. “Bjorn the One-Eyed will have his revenge,” the slave muttered and passed out.

“Take him below,” the galley master snapped to one of the three Zhentilar who also stood on the bow. “We’ll resume our… discussion after I return from Scarsdale. I’m going to find a lass to help me relieve my tensions!”

The guards laughed and nodded as they dragged the slave away.

On the dock, Kelemvor turned to Midnight. “Perhaps you could -“

The mage froze the fighter with her stare. “Even if I pretended to be a trollop, it would do no good. These men have been given my description. They would see through the ruse in an instant.”

“There’s only one place the galley master can go that’s close by, and the proprietor is a friend of mine,” Varden said softly. “We can take him when he gets there.”

Kelemvor watched as the galley master, a short, strongly built man with a thick, black mustache, left the boat and approached the lone watchman near the heroes.

“We should ambush him in the shadows and save ourselves the bother,” Adon said quietly, lifting his war hammer slightly to emphasize his words.

Adon’s suggestion surprised Kelemvor. “I’ll go along with that,” the fighter said and smiled at the cleric. “But only if the opportunity presents itself as we follow him to this establishment run by Varden’s friend.”

The heroes tried to follow the galley master, but the short man kept to streets that were heavily patrolled. Within a few minutes, they had lost him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Varden muttered as the heroes hid in a darkened alley. “He went in the direction of the Fatted Calf Tavern, just as I thought he would.”

The thief knew a short cut, and the heroes were soon at the rear of the tavern, in a dark, dirty alley. “Wait here,” Varden whispered. The thief went around to the front of the tavern and vanished inside.

Five minutes later, the tavern’s rear door opened, and Varden stood silhouetted in light, grinning from ear to ear. “Good evening and welcome to the Fatted Calf,” the thief announced proudly as he ushered the heroes inside. “May I take your order?”

Kelemvor allowed his allies to go in before him then he closed the door. The room they entered was very small and decorated with beautiful, multicolored veils that were draped from various points in the wall and ceiling. The light in the room came from lanterns, and shades of soft blue and red played across the heroes’ features. A bed, a table, and a few chairs made up the furnishings.

“The galley master’s name is Otto,” Varden noted. “My fiance will be bringing him in here any moment.” He turned to Kelemvor, who had hefted a small chair. “Do be careful not to hit the girl.”

Midnight laughed.” You’re going to be married?”

Varden shrugged. “I had to keep telling this wench something to get her to go along with my wild schemes - like this one.” He paused and smiled. “Besides, her father owns the tavern. There’s money in this family.”

There was a sound at the door, and from his position next to the entrance, Kelemvor motioned for silence. The other heroes crowded on the other side of the door, out of the line of view of anyone entering. The smell of bad liquor wafted into the room before the galley master, and the sound of celebration came from the taproom as the door opened.

Otto, the galley master, stumbled into the room on the arm of a beautiful woman dressed in bright, golden robes, pulled tightly to display her perfect figure. Her hair was the color of honey and matched her clothing. Bits of jewelry sparkled from her hands, neck, and waist. Her features were stunning, and she had captured the attentions of the galley master completely.

Kelemvor grimaced. The woman was on his side of the door. But as she entered the room, Varden’s fiance cried out, tripped, and fell forward. The galley master bent instinctively, and Kelemvor crashed the chair over his head. Varden slammed the door shut and locked it behind them.

“I want a ring, and I want a ceremony,” the golden-haired woman told Varden. “None of this sneaking about in the middle of the night and getting married in the Hall of Records. Do you understand me, Varden?”

The thief opened his mouth.

“Further, this thieving business is out of the question, You’ve never made enough at it to convince me it’s a viable means of earning a living. I thought you could apprentice with Daddy, then -“

“Shut up and kiss me,” Varden said as he grabbed her waist and pulled the woman to him. Their lips met, and the kiss lasted long enough for Kelemvor to drag Otto to the bed and set him on it.

Varden’s fiance sighed. “I thought I was going to have to talk about our old age together before you got motivated to do that.”

Varden smirked and turned to the heroes. “This is Liane.”

The woman bowed slightly then looked to Otto. “What are you going to do with him?”

“The question is, my dear, ‘what are we going to do with him.’” Varden said.

Adon watched the lovers in silence. There was a time, not very long ago, when he had played Varden’s role: the lover, the fool. Liane caught sight of the cleric and shuddered when she saw the scar that lined his face. Adon had grown used to the reaction, but a slight shiver of pain ran up his spine. He turned away to open the door and check the alley.

Twenty minutes later, Varden and Liane stood on either side of the galley master as they dragged him back to his ship. The lone watchman approached, and the galley master mumbled incoherently. The stink of the cheap wine wafted from the short man.

“Tipped back a few too many,” Varden said, just loud enough for the heroes to hear him from their hiding place a few yards away. The watchman laughed, made a few crude jokes, and gestured for the trio to move along.

“Say, you’re a cute little thing,” the grubby dock guard commented to Liane when he noticed the woman staring at him with a wicked grin. “If you go on that ship, we’ll never see you again. All the fine young men on board will never let you go!”

Liane sauntered to the watchman’s side, leaving Varden to struggle with Otto. “What are my alternatives?” Liane asked as she circled the guard. The man turned to follow Liane with his eyes, and when his back faced the ship’s walkway, Kelemvor and the others broke from the shadows and ran to help Varden with Otto. Liane threw her head back, ran her hands through her hair, and slowly traced a path down the luscious, smooth skin of her neck, allowing her hands to come together and follow a straight line to the sash at her waist.

The watchman sighed.

In moments, Varden and the heroes had Otto on board the Queen of the Night. Midnight, Kelemvor, and Adon hid as Varden called out, “Fair lady, he’s getting kind of heavy, and you’re the prize he came ashore to find, not I, a humble serving boy!”

Kelemvor shook his head at the thief’s overwrought performance.

At the walkway, Liane said farewell to the watchman and promised to look him up when she returned from the ship. The woman tried to appear casual and unhurried as she made her way to the boat, although her hands were shaking the entire time.

The heroes dragged the galley master back through the shadows, then below deck, where the slaves waited. Bjorn the One-Eyed sat at his station, mumbling curses. Suddenly the body of the galley master fell before the slave, and he nearly jumped out of his seat. Kelemvor smiled at the slave and pulled back the flaps of the galley master’s coat to reveal a huge set of keys tied to the man’s waist.

“That’s a sight I’ll wager you hadn’t expected to see this night,” Kelemvor noted softly as he tore the keys from the groaning galley master and handed them to Bjorn.

“He was a cruel taskmaster,” one of the slaves said from the shadows of the slave hold. “He’d beat us - whip us - for no reason.”

“No one escaped his punishment,” another slave cried.

The tide of condemnations grew, but the shouts abruptly ended with the sharp, metallic click of Bjorn opening his chains. The wildman stood up, a bit shaky on his feet at first, but proud and tall. In fact, the slave towered over the heroes.

Bjorn grabbed the galley master’s hair and pulled the man up to look at him. “Remember the promise I made earlier this evening about what I’d do with your arms and legs?” the wildman growled. The slave grabbed a metal clamp and locked it in place around Otto’s throat. “Keep thinking about it.” Then the one-eyed man turned to face the heroes. “You’ve come to liberate us? What for? What do you want in return?”