Crossroads 04 - The Dragon Isles (22 page)

 
          
“You’re
right,” Ula said. “I have nothing to do with this fish flop. But I don’t need
you sticking your big butt into this, Lyssara. This is between Lakuda’s cronies
and me.”

 
          
Lyssara’s
purple eyes narrowed, but her voice remained calm. “Very well, little sister,”
she said, “
since
you shun my help, I leave you to your
own devices.” She slid back behind the throne and hovered there.

 
          
“What
have you to say, Ula Landwalker?” Lord Aquironian asked.

 
          
“I
demand to see my accuser,” Ula said. “If Lakuda really believes all this
sea-foam she’s spouting about me, then she should stand before milord
Aquironian herself. But instead, she sends this flunky to spread her baseless
accusations.”

 
          
“Milady
Lakuda
cannot
stand before you, Lord
Aquironian,” Volrek interjected. “She was gravely injured in the fight with the
dragon, and even now lies recovering from her wounds.”

 
          
“Fish
oil!” said Ula. “I’ll gladly face Volrek, or anyone he cares to designate, in
trial by combat to prove my innocence.” She held her spear horizontally before
her, in a traditional attitude of honorable challenge.

 
          
Volrek
shifted uncomfortably where he was hovering.

 
          
“Ula
doesn’t have anything to do with the dragon,” Mik ventured to say. “She could
have been killed in the attack just as easily as anyone else.”

 
          
The
lord of the sea elves regarded the sailor with a mixture of surprise and
disdain. “You have not been given leave to speak, surfacer,” he said.

 
          
Mik
bowed. “My apologies, lord.”

 
          
“For
what my word is worth, Lord Aquironian, I concur,” Shimmer said calmly. “Ula is
not
in league with the dragon
Tempest.”

 
          
“He
would say that,” Volrek shouted. “They’re in this
together
. ”

 
          
Aquironian
regarded Lakuda’s messenger coldly. “Then you intend to challenge her word,
Volrek? You will face Ula Landwalker in combat?”

 
          
Volrek
shrank back. “It was not my lady’s instruction to do so,” he said.

 
          
“Then
I will consider that you have withdrawn your complaint,” Aquironian replied.
“Ula Drakenvaal, also known as Landwalker, is free to go—though we suggest that
she depart our city at her earliest convenience.”

 
          
Ula
bowed slightly, “I shall stay no longer than necessary, lord.”

 
          
“What
of this man?” Volrek said, indicating Mik. “He is the rightful hostage of
Lakuda. Shimanloreth stole him from the detention chamber—along with several
others.”

 
          
“Shimmer
came to our aid when the city was falling,” Mik said.

 
          
“This
man—and the other prisoners—may be set against my forage claims, if the Lady
Lakuda so desires,” Shimmer said.

 
          
Aquironian
straightened up in his throne. “I’ve had enough of this squabbling,” he said.
“It’s late, and my lady wife
awaits
. Since I see no
way of determining whose lawful plunder this surfacer might be, I declare
him—and any associated others who enter my realm—free from all bond and
obligation. And since I see no evil in this man, he shall be treated as our
guest.”

 
          
He
turned to the Dargonesti woman standing guard behind Mik. “Show him all due
courtesy.”

 
          
The
elf in golden seashell armor bowed, ‘Aye, milord.”

 
          
Mik
bowed, too. “Thank you, most gracious lord of the sea elves.”

 
          
“While
you are in our city, you will obey our rules,” the lord said to them. “If you
do not, you will be dealt with accordingly.”

 
          
“I
understand,” Mik said. “Thank you, milord.”

 
          
“Lyssara,”
Aquironian said, “see that our surfacedwelling guest is given comfortable
accommodations and that he understands the ways of our people. See to your
sister and Shimanloreth as well.” He rose from his throne and crossed the room
with a few powerful kicks. “Now, if you’ll forgive me . . .” Two guards opened
the door at the back of the chamber, and Lord Aquironian exited.

 
          
Volrek
glanced angrily from Ula to the doors and then followed the lord out.

 
          
Lyssara
Drakenvaal swam forward once more. “I shall be delighted to do as my lord
bids,” she said, her smile lighting up the room. “I will show you to your
chambers.” She turned and led them all out of the room, through the same golden
doors through which Aquironian had exited.

 
          
“Thanks
for speaking up for me,” Ula said to Mik. “It was a brave thing to do.”

 
          
“You’re
welcome,” Mik replied. Looking around the arching corridor, he said, “This city
of yours is amazing.”

 
          
“It’s
not my city any more,” she said. “And Darthalla is about as shabby as Reeftown
once you get past its gilt exterior.”

 
          
Lyssara,
swimming ahead, glanced at them over her shoulder. “Please try to keep up,” she
said. “We’ve some business to discuss before you retire.”

 
          
Ula
rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait.”

 
          
“Could
we perhaps hold this discussion someplace
dry?”
Mik asked. “Our recent journeys have left me pretty worn out, and it would
be nice to breathe without relying on enchantments for a while.”

 
          
Ula’s
sister glanced at the sailor’s jewel-scaled necklace. “As you wish,” she said.
“Follow me.”

A Kender’s Visit to Jaentarth

          
 
Trip didn’t mind being locked in a small
room—to a kender, it seemed like quite a large room. He didn’t even mind being
tied up. The ropes weren’t too itchy, and it gave him something to work on
during the voyage. What he did mind was that the room had no window, and he
really wanted to see where Lord Kell’s galley was taking him. He hoped—if they
were going to Jaentarth—that he might even see some pirates.

 
          
The
brass warriors were more careful with knots than most humans. It
look
Trip the better part of two hours to work his way out,
and then about ten minutes more to rig the ropes so that he could slip in and
out without anyone knowing.

 
          
Occasionally,
someone poked their head in and gave him some food. The food was never very
well prepared, but Trip enjoyed it nonetheless. Hardtack, jerky, and water were
better than some of the sea elf fare he’d had recently. He would have given a
lot for a good tuna steak, though.
 
         
After
fixing the ropes properly, he went to work on the cabin’s door. This proved
somewhat easier, since he had both his hands free, and because he had pieces of
wire in his pockets, with which to pick the lock.

 
          
While
digging out the hidden wire he was reminded of his other major annoyance:
before throwing him in this small, windowless room, Kell’s crew had searched
him thoroughly—searched him like a gully dwarf, as his uncle might have said.
He’d lost quite a few interesting trinkets in the process: some sharks’ teeth,
a tiny sand dollar, a bit of string that his cousin had given him, and a
polished brass button that he’d taken from a prison guard in Khur.
That
was an interesting adventure!

 
          
Sadly,
they’d also discovered and confiscated the remnants of his magical seaweed, his
lucky kender treasure finder—a real blow, that!—and (he sighed just to think of
it) the black diamond artifact. He hadn’t hidden the artifact very well,
assuming that Kell’s people wouldn’t be so rude as to search him, once Mik and
the others had left. In fact, before they grabbed him, ransacked his things,
tied him up, and thrust him into this dark closet, he had actually been looking
forward to his forced voyage to Perch, on the
island
of
Alarl
.

 
          
Kell’s
crew hadn’t bothered to expropriate the worthless- seeming tiny wires that
served Trip as lockpicks, though. As he sprang the rusty lock on the door of
the cabin, and stepped out, many of the crew
were
asleep. Still, the galley was a crowded place, and the kender had to use all
his considerable stealth to creep along without being seen. Voices from the
ship’s stem attracted Trip’s attention. He sneaked past several rows of
sleeping oarsmen to get there, but the challenge of doing so only made him more
eager to hear what was going on.

 
          
Two
spartan cabins occupied the rear of the ship, one, Trip assumed, for Lord Kell,
and one for Lady Kell. The crack beneath the door of one was dark; the voices
came from the other.

 
          
“Anything
we find at Jaentarth will only be a stop-gap at best,” said a woman’s voice
that Trip recognized as the ship’s healer. “The people of Jaentarth are the
descendants of pirates and shipwrecked mariners. They’ve no true medicine.
We’ll still have to journey to Berann to save your sister’s life.”

 
          
Trip’s
heart soared at the mention of Jaentarth. He’d be meeting some pirates, after
all!

 
          
“Are
you suggesting we skip Jaentarth altogether?” Lord Kell asked.

 
          
Trip’s
heart fell slightly.

 
          
“No,”
the healer replied. “I need certain supplies to stabilize her. Even a Jaentarth
cow-town should have what I require.”

 
          
“Then
tomorrow we’ll stop just long enough to obtain what my sister needs, before
setting course for Berann,” Kell said.

 
          
“Milord
Kell,” interrupted a third voice which Trip was slightly surprised to recognize
as Karista Meinor, “why not
ask your dragon friend
to
take your lady sister back to Berann? Surely Tanalish can fly more swiftly than
we can row.”

 
          
Trip
scratched his tawny head. It seemed that Meinor and Lord Kell had become quite
friendly during the short time the kender had been tied up.

 
          
“In
Misa’s condition,” the healer replied, “I would not recommend it.
Perhaps if I can stabilize her at Jaentarth.”

 
          
“Do
whatever you can,” Kell said.

 
          
“Of
course, milord,” the healer replied.

 
          
The
cabin door opened, and Trip had to press himself back into the shadows against
the bulkhead to avoid being seen. The healer exited Lord Kell’s chamber and
went into the room next door. In the brief moment before the healer closed the
door, Trip saw that it was indeed Lady Kell’s room.

 
          
Karista
Meinor shut the door to Lord Kell’s cabin once more, and Trip returned to his
listening post

 
          
“I
pray that this anchorage may bring your sister much- needed relief from her
wound,” Karista said. “And I look forward to returning to your keep on the isle
of Berann. Perhaps then we may seal the trade deal between your order and my
people in Jotan. I trust the treasure Fve offered as a token of good faith is
adequate?”

 
          
That
comment puzzled Trip. He didn't think Karista had salvaged any treasure to
bribe someone with.

 
          
“Quite
adequate
—if
it exists,” Lord Kell
replied. “We shall discover whether it does, in due time. For now, I am pleased
that the first key has been returned to the Order. When it was stolen long ago,
and the pirates lost at sea, Lord Thrakdar had little hope it would ever be
seen again.”

 
          
They
were talking about Mik’s artifact! The black diamond—which they’d stolen from
Trip’s pocket!

 
          
“Milord,”
Karista said, her voice sweet and soft, “I have fulfilled my part of our
agreement: I help deliver the treasure to your order; you secure for me a
reliable trade route to the isles.”

 
          
“Yes,
that is our agreement,” Kell said firmly. “And I will honor it. Now, however,
is not the time to consider such
things.
Misa’s health
must come first.”

 
          
“Of
course, milord,” Karista purred. “Shall we drink to our success, then?”

 
          
“Aye,”
Kell replied.

 
          
Trip’s
small head swam with ideas. Karista had claimed Mik’s treasure! She was bribing
Lord Kell into giving
her a
trade route to the Dragon
Isles! It didn’t sound like Karista or Kell had
have
any plans to share the big diamond and the rest of the loot with him, Mik, Ula,
or anyone.

 
          
Trip
determined then to get off the ship and warn his friend at the earliest chance.
How he might find Mik remained elusive. Still, “Every journey begins with a
single step,” or in this case, “plunge,” as the kender saying went.

 
          
Sneaking
past a sleeping oarsman and peering out the tiny oar hole, the kender saw only
the dark, gray sea rising gently before a westerly wind. No sign, yet, of their
destination. The thought of going to an island populated by castaways and
pirates thrilled the kender. He doubted he’d have much time to look around and
make friends, though—not if he was going to warn Mik.

 
          
Cautiously,
Tripleknot Shellcracker crept back to his closet and put on his ropes. He’d
make his move when they anchored at Jaentarth.

 
          
* * * * *

 
          
Trip
woke with a start. The creaking of the ship had changed, and he no longer heard
the rhythmic splash of the oars. An unexpected plate of cold food and a tiny
skin of water lay at his feet, and he cursed himself for not being more wary.
Footsteps on the decks above told him that it would be tricky now to slip out
of his small prison.

 
          
Yet
there was nothing else for it.

 
          
He
shucked his ropes and quickly picked the lock once more. Peering out the door,
he found himself in luck; nearly all of the deck’s oarsmen seemed to be working
somewhere else—probably on the main platform. Trip slipped out the door and
made his way cautiously between the benches.

 
          
New
sounds of splashing drew his attention to one of the oar holes. Swimming—the
crew was swimming beside the ship. This might have been a break, had the galley
been tethered to a dock—which is what the kender expected.

 
          
But
when he peered out, he noticed that the trireme lay anchored quite far
offshore. In the distance he saw Lord Kell’s skiff approaching the mainland.
The town they were headed for was
not
the romantic pirate village Trip had imagined. Rather, it was a ramshackle
collection of rundown buildings clinging to the steep sides of the Jaentarth
shore. Huge boulders littered the rocky shoreline near the town, and tall
cliffs sprang up on either side of the tiny landing area. The black maws of a
dozen tidal caves scarred the cliff face.

           
Trip saw now why his captors hadn’t
expected much from Jaentarth. Even to a kender it was slightly disappointing.
It would have to do, however. He doubted it would he any easier to escape from
Berann.

 
          
Ducking
around the benches, he made his way to Lord Kell’s cabin. A quick search turned
up his confiscated items, including his lucky treasure finder and his daggers.
Trip smiled and hung the thong attached to the shiny, pointed rock around his
neck. He hadn’t remembered to wear the treasure finder since stowing away on
Kingfisher
, hut a bit of good luck now
couldn’t hurt.

 
          
He
tucked the pearl-handled daggers’ sheaths into the top of his hoots and then
packed away the rest of his small treasures. His hazel eyes strayed covetously
toward the coral lance hanging over Benthor Kell’s bunk, hut he decided there
was no way to take it with him at the moment. Rummaging around further, it
didn’t take him long to turn up the black diamond artifact.

 
          
Remembering
that he had already once failed his promise to keep the ancient key safe, he
removed it from the hidden compartment in Kell’s sea chest and tucked the
golden trinket even more deeply into his vest pocket.

 
          
Now to find his friends.

 
          
Going
on deck to slip overboard seemed out of the question. Fortunately, Lord Kell’s
cabin had a good-sized porthole on the starboard wall. Unfortunately, the small
window looked directly toward the ship’s landward side— where the crew was
swimming.