The sweet smell of quality pipeleaf filled the room and bluish smoke circled the roof joists. A large kettle of fish stew simmered over the larger of the taproom's two hearths. The Depths had only a few windows, all tightly shuttered.
Dim glowglobes in the corners shed cerulean light of varying intensity, giving the taproom a deep-sea feel. Permanent illusions of small sharks, dolphins, jellyfish, marlins, and other exotic fish "swam" through the air between tables, between the roof rafters. An auditory illusion kept up a soothing chorus of distant whalesong. Permanent visual illusions made the floor appear to be transparent with a sea floor far below. Kelp, giant clams, and anemones dotted the sandy bottom, and schools of fish swam lazily under the feet of the patrons.
Cale could imagine the expense the proprietor must have spent on hired illusionists.
The three comrades sat in a shadowed corner of the taproom at a sturdy round table edged with an inset shell border. Ceramic tankards filled with quality house ale sat before them.
"Hardly our kind of place," Jak said, eyeing the clientele. He reached out to touch a bright red illusory fish coasting past their table. It darted away from his touch and into the depths below the floorboards.
Cale agreed. Other than dinner knives and a couple of obviously ceremonial cutlasses that hung from the hips of two overweight merchants, the three comrades wore the only weapons in the room. The Depths was a place to which Cale might have accompanied Thamalon to close a trade deal.
Cale said, "I wanted us to have-"
The patrons scattered as an illusory shark burst out of the floor chasing a large silver fish. Prey and predator swam a frenetic course over three tables before knifing neatly back into the floorboards' depths. Eventually the fish found shelter in a cave on the sea floor and the shark went hungry. Laughter and clapping followed.
Cale, Jak, and Magadon shared a look. All three had pushed back their chairs, half stood, and put hands to hilts. Cale had Weaveshear halfway from its scabbard.
Sheepishly, they released their blades and settled back at their table. Some of the nearby patrons eyed them and whispered behind their hands.
Cale ignored them and took a sip of ale. "As I was saying, I wanted us to have a peaceful place from which to operate. One with few distractions." He thought of the tavern back in Skullport, when he and Riven had fought off some mercenaries. That would have been a pointless distraction too, had it not led to him meeting Varra. He put thoughts of her from his mind. "I also figured it might as well be a nice place. We could use a reprieve, even if temporary."
Jak tilted his head and raised his glass in a salute. A trio of golden fish swam near their table and Jak snapped out his free hand to grab at one. The little man proved faster than the illusion and all three illusory fish vanished at his touch. They reappeared, swimming peacefully, near the ceiling across the room.
"Got you," Jak said to them, smiling, and took a long, congratulatory draw on his ale.
Magadon returned them to their task. "Sakkors is underwater. We know that. Hopefully, we can catch the slaadi and Riven aboard ship, but if not. . "
"Then we go under," Jak said, and looked down through the floorboards.
Magadon nodded. "And that adds to our enemies-the ocean is cold, dark, airless, and the weight of the water increases with depth. My mental abilities are of no help. What of your spells?"
"Within limits," Cale said, and Jak nodded agreement.
"The slaadi can shapechange," Magadon said. "They will take the form of something native to the depths. We will be at a disadvantage if it comes to that."
"Then let's not let it come to that," Cale said. He looked to Jak and said, "Call in any markers you have, even your old Harper contacts."
Magadon raised his eyebrows at that; the guide had not known that Jak once was a Harper. Cale went on.
"I will do the same. We angle for anything suspicious. A sailor, passenger, or merchant with mismatched eyes. Anyone asking after Sakkors or the Eldritch Temple. A ship unexpectedly departing. Anything at all. Drop as much coin as you need. We start tonight."
"I will be of little use in this," Magadon said, his lips pursed.
"You have been of great use in everything else, Mags," Cale said. "Leave this to Jak and me. This is what we do."
Jak drained his ale, wiped his mouth, and stood. "I'll get started tonight."
Cale nodded.
"I will try scrying," he said. "If that does not work, I'll join you on the wharves."
Dressed in the tailored black doublet, trousers, high boots, and fur-trimmed cloak of a middle-aged, wealthy, potbellied merchant, Riven walked the pier toward Demon Binder. To maintain appearances, he had hired a laborer to bear his chest of traveling goods-in reality, his weapons, armor, clothing, and a few other useless gewgaws he had purchased to add weight.
As he neared the gangplank, two crewmen hurried down to the pier to assist the laborer with his burden. Both Sailors wore cutlasses and hard looks. Riven threw a silver to the laborer and sent him on his way.
"The captain said you was comin'," the first said, a thin, tattooed sailor missing two fingers on his right hand.
"We'll bear that for you, now," said the other, a burly crewman with burn-scarred hands. His sour breath stank of distilled spirits.
Riven wiped fictional sweat from his brow, made as though he was catching his breath. He adopted a Chondathan accent and offered his thanks.
"Cap'n's holdin' a cabin for you," said the thin one. "Leavin' with the moonrise, he said. Where'll we be headin'?"
Captain Azriim must not have told the crew the destination. Riven could not have told them if he'd wanted.
"I will leave it to the captain to tell," Riven said, and boarded.
"Must be something special, to divert our course as we are though, eh?" the thin sailor said. He worked with the other crewman to carry the chest.
The bigger took a half-hearted swing with his free hand at the smaller's head. "Shut yer hole, Nom. We'll know when the Captain wants us to know. He's never sailed us wrong, has he?"
Nom grumbled agreement and the two led Riven to his cabin-little more than a closet with a flea-ridden bed and small dressing table-and left him alone with his chest. Riven wandered onto deck later, where he found Azriim and Dolgan walking the ship, supervising the preparations to set sail. Riven grudgingly conceded that the slaadi were at least as good as he at playing their roles. He noticed that Azriim surreptitiously held one wand or another against his forearm as he moved over the deck.
"Welcome aboard, Mendeth," Azriim said. The slaad looked exactly like the captain except that he had retained his mismatched eyes. Riven was not surprised that none of the crew had noticed, but a professional would. Cale would.
Dolgan, in his guise as the first mate, grunted a greeting.
Riven pretended to make insignificant conversation, but caught Azriim's gaze and indicated the wands the slaad rotated in and out of his hands.
Warding the ship, Azriim explained.
Above them, the crew was at work in the rigging, unfurling sails.
"We sail at moonrise," Azriim said, confirming what the crewman had said to Riven. He continued to walk the deck, with Dolgan at his side.
Riven tired of the slaadi's company in short order. With nothing to do but wait for the ship to set sail, Riven returned to his quarters and brooded. The thump of activity went on for several hours, then shouts were heard, and the ship began to move away from the pier.
As Demon Binder sailed out of the harbor and out into the open sea, Riven emerged onto the deck, up the stern-castle to the aft railing. He felt the eyes of the crew on him, saw the questions in their expressions, but ignored them and offered no information. He leaned on the rail and watched Selgaunt and its torches and lamps vanish into the distance. For a moment, he wondered what his girls were doing, if they would miss him. He wondered, too, if Cale was in the city, looking for him.