The crewmen on nightwatch noticed their sudden appearance and shouted in alarm. The rest of the crew awakened, scrambled out of their deck beds, and grabbed for blades. Three of the crew who had been on watch near the side railing rushed forward with steel and teeth bare.
Azriim held up his hands-he still held his wand and teleportation rod-and called out, "We are expected by Captain Sertan."
The captain must have prepared his crew, or perhaps the sailors recognized Azriim from his previous visit-Captain Sertan had given him a tour of the ship a few days ago-for the three sailors halted their advance, though they continued to stare at Azriim and his cohorts menacingly. Riven answered with a sneer and a stare.
The seamen did not hold the assassin's gaze.
Azriim liked Riven more and more.
A call went out and Captain Sertan quickly appeared at the forecastle rail. Azriim attuned his vision to see dweomers and saw that his charm on the captain remained in effect.
"All is well, seajacks," the captain shouted to his crew. "These are the friends I spoke of."
The crewmen lowered their blades. Those who had been sleeping grumbled at their fellows for disturbing their slumber and curled back into their deckbags and hammocks. At least a few muttered about the ill fortune that accompanied having mages aboard.
The captain left off the railing, slid ably down the forecastle ladder to the maindeck, and walked toward Azriim. Azriim used his arm to hide the bloodstains on his shirt caused by the wound Cale had given him. His flesh continued to regenerate.
The captain wore a wool jacket, dark trousers, and high boots. A thick-bladed cutlass hung casually from his hip. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than when Azriim had first met him. He probably had slept little.
When he reached them, Captain Sertan said, "Welcome aboard, goodsirs. I am pleased to see you. I was beginning to doubt that you would show."
Azriim gave him a courtly bow. As he did, he pocketed his wand and rod, at the same time drawing forth the wand with which he had previously enchanted the captain.
"I am a man of my word, Captain," he said.
"So I see. An honorable man who pays well is welcome on the Coffer. My ship is in your service, as we agreed. Where to?"
Azriim smiled and shook the hand on which he wore the magical glove. The movement and Azriim's will summoned the Sojourner's magical compass from its extra-dimensional space and it appeared in his hand.
The captain marveled, wide-eyed.
The needle within the gold-chased, transparent sphere bobbed for a moment before pointing steadily in one direction: west, out to sea.
"The helmsman should follow the indicator on this compass until it points straight down," Azriim said. "That's when we'll be disembarking."
The captain looked at the compass, then in the direction of the indicator. "Nothing lies in that direction but open sea for twenty leagues. There's nowhere to disembark."
Azriim put a friendly hand on the captain's shoulder. As he did, he surreptitiously touched the small wand in his hand to the captain's arm and thereby renewed the charm.
"That will be our problem, Captain Sertan. Your problem is simply to get us there."
The captain pursed his lips but Azriim's spell turned it quickly into a smile. "Well enough. But I'll ask you for the second half of our payment now."
Azriim could not help but smile. Sembians remained Sembians, even when enspelled.
"Of course, Captain. We're all friends here, after all."
Azriim withdrew three large rubies from a pouch at his belt and handed them to Sertan. The human eyed them, eyes glittering, and put them into his sash belt.
"I have quarters reserved for you in the sterncastle," he said, and turned to leave.
"One more thing, Captain," Azriim said, and Sertan turned back to face him. Azriim pulled an enchanted emerald from his pouch. He held it up for Sertan to see, then placed it on the deck and spoke a word of power. The emerald shattered, leaving in its wake a soft green glow that quickly spread to the entirety of the ship.
To prevent another unwanted appearance of the priest of Mask, Azriim projected to Dolgan and Riven.
In truth, he figured Erevis Cale to be dead or at least incapable of following them. Demon Binder was leagues and leagues away. And with this dimensional lock in place, the priest could not teleport through the shadows to Dolphin's Coffer, even if he could somehow find them.
The crew grumbled about the glow and shared hard looks. Before the captain could protest, Azriim said,
"I know it is awkward, Captain, but it is a necessary precaution."
"We are like a beacon out here," one of the crew shouted to the captain.
"Wizards be damned," growled another.
"What are we into, Cap'n?" asked another.
"Take this," Azriim said, loudly enough to be heard by the crew nearby. He produced another ruby, his last, from his belt pouch. "To compensate for the inconvenience. The magic will harm neither crew nor ship. In fact, it will protect us all."
The captain looked at Azriim, at the ruby, and took it.
"Be about your rest or your duties, jacks," the captain said to the crew. "We can trust these mates."
The captain's firm reassurance quieted the crew.
Captain Sertan ran a professional ship and his men obviously respected his word.
"I appreciate your trust, my friend," Azriim lied.
The captain nodded, took the compass from Azriim's hand.
"I'll get this to Nimil at the helm."
"I would like to set to immediately," Azriim said. "Time is of the essence."
The captain hesitated, nodded, and walked away. As he did, he called out to the crew, "On your feet, lads. Selune is bright and her tears are shining. Let's set to now. The sooner we get the lubbers to where they are going, the sooner we get to spend the coin they have paid. You'll all be in whores, grub, and drink for two tendays."
A round of tired cheers greeted the captain's words. The crew rose from deckbags and started to prepare the ship for sail. She'd be underway soon enough.
Azriim smiled at Dolgan and Riven. The wounds Cale had given were fully healed, though his shirt was ruined.
"An eventful evening, not so?" he said, still smiling. He looked down at his clothing and frowned. "I need a new shirt."
* * * * *
A score or more slavers swarmed the deck toward Cale and Jak. The seamen brandished steel in their fists and scowls on their faces. Across the ship, the door to the sterncastle suddenly splintered, forced open from inside. It triggered Jak's ward.
A blast of ice shards and cold exploded from the door jambs. The four ship's masters who had tried to exit screamed, grabbed at flesh torn apart by blades of ice and wood, and fell to the deck.
"I tried to stop you by jamming the lock, you dolts!" Jak shouted.
Many of the advancing crew heard the commotion from behind, saw the dead or dying masters, and slowed their charge.
Cale clutched his mask and incanted a prayer to the Shadowlord. The spell summoned a magical blade of force that answered to Cale's mental command. The blade materialized in the air beside him and at his mental urging, streaked at the big slaver who had ordered the charge. The man tried to parry with his overlarge cutlass, but the blade's darting attacks drove him back.
Two of the slavers tried to assist their comrade, while the rest continued to advance. Several hurled daggers or knives. Cale and Jak hunched, and most flew wide or short, but a few struck home. The shadows that surrounded Cale prevented the two daggers that hit him from doing any more than bruising his skin, but one knife slit a furrow in Jak's cheek, and another dagger stuck in his shoulder. He jerked it out with a grunt-it had penetrated only slightly-glared at the crew, and incanted a prayer to his god.