There was no sign of the pirate ship. “Damn,” Geran muttered to himself. He hadn’t really expected to find Kraken Queen here after eight days, but it certainly would have been convenient. He looked over to Worthel, who’d replaced Galehand on watch. “Drop anchor here and lower a boat, Master Worthel. I’m going to have a look ashore.”
“Aye, Lord Geran,” Worthel said. He frowned under his broad mustache of red-streaked gray. “But I don’t think there’s much to see there. She’s burned down to her keel.”
A quarter hour later, Geran, Sarth, Hamil, and Kara waded ashore from the ship’s boat. They inspected the burned wreck of Whitewing, and the scattered remains of the Sokol ship’s cargo, still strewn across the pebbled shore. Kara carefully studied the tracks and refuse left behind by the pirate crew, pacing back and forth across the cove as she followed the story she read there. Geran knew of no better tracker on the north side of the Moonsea, and he waited for her to finish. If there was anything to be found in the cove, she would find it. After a time, Kara brushed her hands off against the mail aprons of her armor and rejoined him. Her eyes gleamed with the uncanny azure of her spellscar in the fading light of the day.
“What do you make of it?” Hamil asked her.
“They left five or six days ago,” Kara answered. “I make their numbers at eighty or ninety, mostly humans with a few orcs and ogres. Most of the crew slept on the beach for the two or three days they stayed here.” That was not unusual; most captains, pirate or merchant, preferred to make camp ashore if conditions permitted. As long as the crew posted a few sentries, it was undoubtedly safer than continuing to sail through the hours of darkness, and most vessels plying the waters of the Moonsea or the Sea of Fallen Stars offered very little in the way of accommodations for their crews.
“Did you find anything that might have belonged to Kraken Queen?” Sarth asked. “A scrap of canvas, some discarded rope, an empty water cask?”
“Not very much, I’m afraid,” Kara answered. She held up a battered old wooden baton about two feet in length-a belaying pin. “I did find this near where they had their ship drawn up. It’s the best I could do for something that was part of the pirate ship … but there are several fresh graves over there in the brush above the high-water mark.”
Geran nodded. “I killed at least two men when I fought my way out of the camp.” He didn’t think he’d mortally wounded anyone else, but perhaps the pirate captain had decided to settle some question of discipline during Kraken Queen’s stay in the cove. The bodies might serve Sarth’s requirement, but he kept that thought to himself. They were too near the Highfells and the domain of the lich Aesperus to unearth corpses, regardless of what they intended to do with the remains. Better to leave the pirates’ dead in peace.
“Let me have a look.” Sarth held out his hand for the pin and examined it closely. The tiefling murmured the words of a spell and then closed his eyes in concentration. After a moment he snorted and shook his head. “It belonged to Kraken Queen, but the aura is weak or the ship is far away,” he said. “I cannot discern her direction.”
“It was worth a try,” Geran said. He sighed and looked out over the purple-hued waters lapping against the pebbled shore. “Very well, then. We’ll have to search out Kraken Queen the hard way. We’ll stay here for the night and begin in the morning.”
Over the next five days Geran steered Seadrake westward along the Moonsea’s northern coast past Thentia and Melvaunt as far as the River Stojanow and the small city of Phlan, with no luck. The weather worsened, as cool gray skies settled in with sheets of cold rain every night. By day Seadrake crashed through heavy swells, throwing white spray over the bow and running across the wind with a strong heel to her decks. They crossed the Moonsea to the southern shore near Hillsfar and spent another five days working eastward as they searched the numberless islets and forested coves that crowded the shore between that city and the River Lis. Still they had no sign of the ship they sought, and Geran decided that his quarry was not in the southern Moonsea either. That left only the two far corners of the Moonsea unvisited: the west end by the River Tesh and the Galennar, the wild eastern reaches of the Moonsea, where the mountains ringing Vaasa met the coast in mile after mile of spectacular cliffs. But Geran hesitated before ordering Galehand to set his course for either end. Both were desolate and unsettled, with no merchant shipping to speak of. Pirates would find no prey, no safe harbors, and no markets for their stolen goods at either end of the Moonsea. Geran worried at the puzzle for most of a rain-soaked afternoon then decided to call at the port of Mulmaster before he settled on his next move. If he heard nothing of Kraken Queen in the crowded city, he’d venture into the desolate Galennar.
It was only a few hours’ sail from the Lis to Mulmaster. Seadrake sculled slowly into Mulmaster’s narrow, fortified harbor at the end of the cool, rain-misted autumn day. Beetling ramparts and dark towers loomed over the harbor; Mulmaster climbed steeply toward the barren mountains at its back, a sprawling, grim-faced city. Under the city’s ruling nobles-or Blades, as they styled themselves-Mulmaster was a city where those with gold did anything they wanted, and those who didn’t have gold did anything they could to get it. The harbor was crowded with roundships and galleys from many different cities and trading houses, but Kraken Queen was not among them.
“I never much cared for Mulmaster,” Hamil remarked as Galehand steered the ship toward an open anchorage. “The first time I came here, I had to bribe someone just to find out the proper way to bribe someone! Hardly a friendly or forthcoming people, these Mulmasterites.”
“That’s been my experience of Mulmaster,” Geran agreed.
Kara nodded toward the stone quays as they came abreast of them. Several merchant ships rocked gently alongside, their decks illuminated with lanterns. Even at the end of the day, porters still worked to unload one of the ships, carrying casks and bundles up out of her hold in a steady stream. “The Veruna yards,” Kara said. She looked at Geran. “Seadrake may be recognized here, you know.”
Geran nodded. He was a little nervous about bringing the ship into House Veruna’s home waters too. “I doubt the Verunas would try to seize Seadrake by force,” he said. “We have enough fighting power on board to resist a merchant company’s armsmen.”
“True, but the Verunas might convince a magistrate or the High Blade to order the ship impounded. We can’t outfight Mulmaster’s navy or escape the port if they raise the harbor chain behind us.”
“We’ll choose an inconspicuous mooring,” Geran decided. “Master Galehand, steer for that one there; it’s not very close to shore.” With darkness falling, any Veruna retainers ashore who might recognize Seadrake wouldn’t see much more than one more dark hull riding at anchor out in the harbor.
“Aye, Lord Geran.” The dwarf took the helm himself and steered for the spot Geran had pointed out. Seadrake was no galley; she was slow and ungainly under oars. Geran couldn’t shake the impression that the whole city was silently watching their tedious progress to the empty mooring spot he’d selected. Finally Galehand brought the ship to a stop and ordered the crew to drop anchor.