The Sea Devils Eye (20 page)

“Enough!” Tarnar roared. “This is my ship. As long as it remains my ship, nothing will happen aboard her that I don’t sanction. That’s the way it has always been, and that’s how it shall be until I’m not fit to command her.” He glared at the men assembled before him. “Is that understood?”

“Aye, Cap’n.” The response was quick and came from the mouth of every man. All the oaths were grudgingly gixren.

“Then get back to work,” the captain ordered. “Every mother’s son of you.”

The crew turned and walked away, grumbling.

Tarnar turned, his eyes wide as he studied Jherek. “By the gods, boy, what is it about you that you’d stare them in the teeth and not raise a hand against them?”

“They didn’t deserve my wrath,” Jherek answered. “They have no control over my being here.”

“The}’ would have killed you if I let them.”

“Aye.”

Tarnar shook his head in disbelief. “What is that thing doing here?” He pointed at the sea wyrm keeping pace with Steadfast.

“I don’t know, Captain.” Jherek turned to the railing and stared out at the sea wyrm. It disappeared beneath the waves. “I’ve seen it before. Back on Azure Dagger.”

“Then it has followed you here,” concluded Tarnar.

Jherek made no response to that, but his mind reeled with the implications of the dragon’s presence.

“Boy, if something powerful enough to stop the winds and control the waters wanted you dead, it would have drank down the ship and you with it,” the captain said. “You’re still alive, so I have to ask why.”

“I don’t know,” Jherek said with grim determination, “but whatever it is, it will regret it.”

Tarnar shook his head. “A prudent man wouldn’t presume to put himself above the gods.”

“I’m beyond prudence,” Jherek declared. “I will demand an accounting. My life has never been an easy one, and this force-this god if you wish to see it that way-has seen to that. It can kill me, strip the flesh from my bones, but I will not kneel before some heartless thing. I will have my battle, and I will acquit myself with honor.”

*****

Sabyna paused at the edge of the narrow, rutted street and watched a wagon pass.

The wagon was loaded with timber the driver was hauling to the sawmill down by the docks. The merry jingle-jangle of the horses’ harnesses stood out in sharp counterpoint to the tired plod of the animals. The driver and the three woodchoppers with him looked worn out.

Agenais rumbled with steady business and men. Coin changed hands quickly, and prices marked on goods didn’t mean a thing. If no one was interested in something, the price could sometimes be halved. Impromptu auctions went on all around her where there was more than one prospective buyer and a limited supply of goods. The roll of bids, accompanied by oaths and strident voices, remained as steady as the conversations and stories that were told.

Sabyna crossed the street, aware of the men’s attentions. Some eyed her discreetly, and others stared at her with openly wolfish hunger.

On the other side of the rutted street, she stepped up onto a boardwalk under a badly listing eave in front of the apothecary’s shop. Her boot heels rang hollowly against the wooden surface.

“Hey, little woman,” a man called gruffly.

Sabyna kept her eyes forward. From experience she’d learned not to acknowledge speakers in such situations.

The man reached out and wrapped a beefy hand around her wrist. “Hey,” he grumbled, “I was talking to you.” The man was short of six feet but was as broad as the back end of a barge. He was unshaven and smelled of ale.

Slowly, Sabyna reached out with her free hand for the whip lashed to the big man’s belt. She smiled, watching other men come join the first.

“You’re lucky,” she said in a soft voice.

The man grinned more broadly and asked, “How am I lucky?”

“Despite the mood I’m in and your own bad manners, I’m not going to kill you.” Sabyna tapped the whip and said, “Bind.”

The whip surged up from the man’s side and uncoiled. Before he could do more than let go her wrist and take a step back, the whip wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides and trapping his legs together. He yelped in fear and surprise.

Placing a hand in the center of his chest, Sabyna shoved the man into the rutted street. She turned to face his friends, who weren’t totally convinced they couldn’t take her.

She opened the bag of holding at her side and called, “Skeins.”

The raggamoffyn fluttered up through the opening and formed a striking serpentine shape that hovered on the wind. The men backed away at once, terror on their faces.

“Don’t,” Sabyna said coldly, “let me see you again.”

Without another word, the men grabbed their friend from the rutted road and took off.

Releasing a slow, taut breath, Sabyna stepped into the apothecary’s shop. Skeins retreated into the bag of holding.

The shop stood small and tidy beneath a swaying ceiling that had seen its best days pass it by. Wheel-shaped candelabras hung from the ceiling. Handmade shelves, added as needed and not with a uniform design in mind, stood against the left and right walls.

Glass bottles of all shapes, sizes, and colors mixed with jars, canisters, and small boxes to cover the shelves. Open vases held sticks of spices and rolled herbs. Cheesecloth pouches of pipeweed sat on barrels.

Some of the herbs had been dried and left in their original shape, lying in jars, in thick clusters, or hanging from strings strung around the room. Other herbs had been ground into meals and powders, grains separated from the chaff.

“Hail and well met, lady.”

Fazayl stood behind the battered counter at the end of the shop. Long gray hair hung to his shoulders, but the top of his head was bald. Gray chin whiskers jutted out in disarray. He wore a homespun shirt and worn breeches. A long-stemmed pipe was in one hand, and the rich aroma of cherry blend pipeweed filled the shop.

“Hail and well met.” Sabyna crossed to the counter. “You have the herbs and other things I asked for?”

“Aye,” the man replied. “That I do.”

He reached under the counter and brought out a small wooden box. Inside were a dozen vials, jars, and bottles of different colors. Bundles of herbs and incense sticks took up more space.

Sabyna took the bottles and herbs out one by one, checking each.

“I’ve gotten some new stock in, lady,” Fazayl stated, waving his arm generously around the small shop. “If you’d care to take a look.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Despite the danger inherent in being in the town of Agenais by herself, Sabyna found she was reluctant to return to Azure Dagger so readily. While aboard ship she was consciously aware of Jherek’s absence. She left the small box in the apothecary’s care and crossed the room to the potions and oils.

Two small children, no more than six or seven, entered the shop amid gales of laughter. Dressed in made-over clothing patched in dozens of places, they pushed and shoved each other in playful sibling rivalry. The children stopped at the counter and peered up at Fazayl.

“And where do you rapscallions think you’re off to?” the apothecary demanded.

The children didn’t answer, simply peered over the edge of the counter with their big eyes. Dirt stained their wind-reddened cheeks, and they wiggled in excitement.

Smiling, Fazayl reached under the counter and brought out half a dozen hard candies. The children scooped them up, yelled quick thank you’s, and scurried for the door. The old man laughed at them, then caught Sabyna looking.

“Bless the children, lady, for they see only the good things in this world.”

“Are they your grandchildren?” Sabyna asked.

“No, lady. My boys and my grandchildren live in Ches-senta. The Whamites turned out far too small to keep them from roving. Still, most of the children in town know I and the missus can be counted on for a few pieces of sugar candy without too much of a fight.”

The shop door opened and two rough-looking men stepped through. Both of them walked with the rolling gait of professional seamen and wore cutlasses instead of long swords.

“Shopkeeper,” one of the men roared. “I’ve got a list of goods here we’ll be needing.” He reached inside his blouse and took out a scrap of parchment.

“If I can,” Fazayl replied. “Some goods are in short supply these days.”

The two men swaggered to the counter and gazed around at the shop. One of them looked directly at Sabyna, and the ship’s mage recognized him in an instant as one of Vurgrom the Mighty’s crew of pirates that had captured her in Baldur’s Gate and fled with her down the River Chionthar.

She readied her spells in the event that he recognized her.

After they gave their list to Fazayl, they turned to the barrels where the apothecary kept live fish, salamanders, frogs, and newts that he used to make some of his powders, potions, and oils.

Returning to the counter, still watching the two men, Sabyna quickly paid for her supplies, then shoved them into the bag of holding. Skeins sensed her tension and tried to ease from the bag. She pushed the raggamoffyn back inside, thanked Fazayl, and headed for the door.

Without looking back, she crossed the rutted street that cut through the heart of Agenais and took up a position beside a sail maker’s shop. From the alley she had a clear view of the apothecary.

When they left, she followed.

XV

“You’re an excellent player,” the captain said.

Jherek glanced at Captain Tarnar across the inlaid marble chessboard on the small table between them in the captain’s quarters. The pieces were done in dark red and white, matching the board, carved in figures of king, queen, priests, horsemen, castles, and kneeling archers.

“You’re very gracious,” the young sailor responded.

Steadfast cleaved the water as she was named, pulling full into the wind now.

“No,” Tarnar replied, “I’m not. I don’t like to lose.”

He poured another glass of wine for himself, then offered the bottle to Jherek, who politely refused.

The captain had invited Jherek to join him for dinner, and the young sailor had reluctantly accepted. Jherek preferred his own company, but he was loath not to show good manners in light of the situation.

“I find it more disturbing that you beat me three times in a row-” Tarnar paused to sip his wine,”-in light of the fact that you’re distracted.”

“I’m not-“

“A woman?” the captain asked, interrupting politely.

Jherek didn’t reply. To speak of Sabyna so casually would be dishonorable.

“Of course it’s a woman,” Tarnar said with conviction. His eyes bore into the young sailor’s. “The only other interest to so bewitch a man’s soul would be an object of greed, and you aren’t the type to covet physical goods.” The captain started setting up the chess pieces again. “You threw yourself into the sea without so much as a bag packed those days ago.”

Jherek set up the pieces on his side of the board, appreciating the smooth feel of them.

“Is it the ship’s captain I saw you with?” Tarnar persisted. “The half-elf? Or the young red haired girl that seemed so upset by your leaving?”

“I’d rather not speak of this,” Jherek said.

“Nonsense. Men at sea always talk of women,” the captain persisted. “First, they speak of their mothers, then of lovers, then of women they’ve left in different ports. When they start speaking of wives, you’d best start looking for another crewman.”

Candles lit the room and filled it with the smoky haze of herbs that eddied out the open windows in the ship’s stern. A generous portion of the room was given over to the large bed that extended across the stern a good eight feet. Shelves and closets occupied the remaining space along the wall on either side of the bed.

There was a large rolltop desk that held map scrolls and nautical plotting and marking tools. Ship’s journals sat neatly ranked on one side. The current journal occupied the center of the table, open to the entry Tarnar last made. A quill and an inkwell sat nearby.

A shelf on the opposite side of the room from the desk held a row of books. Most of them, Jherek found upon inspection, were treatises regarding the worship of Mystra. Beside the bookshelves was a locked armory that held swords of different makes and styles.

Jherek nodded at the shelves and said, “I’ve noticed your interest in books.”

“The worship of Mystra. Yes.” Tarnar swirled the dregs of his wine. “I am a failed priest of her order.”

Stunned that the man announced the fact so casually, Jherek opened his mouth to speak but found no words.

The captain grinned. “It’s nothing I’m ashamed of,” he said. “While I attended the Lady of Mysteries’ schools and talked with her priests, I learned a great many things. All of them have helped me become a better man. I begrudge none of the experience, not even when I took myself from the order.”

“Why did you?” Jherek asked.

“Because I felt the calling, but I never felt I could devote myself to the priesthood. Not the way I wanted to, wholly and without reservation. So I went to sea, which seemed as wild and as restless as any mysteries I might seek to uncover under Mystra’s guidance.”

“But your interest remains,” Jherek observed. “Why would you keep the books otherwise?”

“Aye,” Tarnar replied. “My fascination remains. Mystra is also known as She of the Wild Tides here in the Sea of Fallen Stars. I love her because she seems so much a part of this world, yet above it. Legend has it that during the Time of Troubles she even wralked on this plane as a mortal herself.”

Jherek remained silent.

“Today I tried to divine something of what lies in your future,” Tarnar said.

Shaking his head, Jherek grumbled, “I don’t want to know.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Tarnar told him. “I never learned how to divine properly, though I was told by my teachers that I possessed some mean skills at it. I only got two impressions from the attempt. I know that something shapes your future-though you have a choice in that-and that the guiding hand does not belong to Mystra.”

“What choice?”

Tarnar ran his finger around the rim of his wineglass and said, “I could not say. Have you any stronger feelings about where we’re supposed to go? By the afternoon of the day after tomorrow we’ll be at the mouth of the Alamber Sea. Providing the wind stays with us, the trip to Aglarond will not be long.”