Captain Evrel said, "A colored arc at sea is the bridge between us and the Stormlord's realm. And that looks to be enough of a storm that Talos would take a father's pride in it."
Magadon, standing near the captain on the forecastle and eyeing the clouds, said, "I do not think it is natural. It gathers too fast."
"The slaadi?" Jak asked, speaking his thoughts aloud.
Evrel had the sense to pretend he had not heard, or at least had the sense to ask no questions.
Magadon shrugged. "No way to know."
"Doubtful," Cale said. He shaded his eyes with his hand against the light of the setting sun. "They do not know we are after them."
Evrel said, "And they would be fools if they brought that storm down themselves. They'll be caught in it, same as us." He paused, looked a question at Cale, and said, "That is, if we're sailing into it."
Cale looked into Evrel's face. "Captain, it is important that we catch those we're after. I cannot tell you why it's important, but it is."
He offered no more than that, and in truth, could not offer more. He did not know what the slaadi or the Sojourner planned. He knew only that it would not be good.
Evrel stared into Cale's face for a moment, chewed his moustache, and finally nodded. Over his shoulder, he said to Ashin, who stood at the helm, "Steer a course right into it, Ashin."
"Aye, Captain," answered Ashin without blanching.
Evrel summoned Gorse and ordered, "Batten down every hatch on this tub. Not a drop gets into the hold or she'll founder for certain. All spare rope below decks is made into lifelines. Turn the decks into a web and remind the men to take extra care. If anyone goes over in that storm, there'll be no gettin' him back."
Gorse nodded, eyed Cale, Magadon, and Jak, and turned to his duty.
"Gorse," Evrel called to his back, and the mate spun. "Find something suitable and round up Rix. Have him make an offering to Talos."
Gorse nodded and hopped to his work, barking orders at everyone within earshot. The crew answered his commands immediately and set to their appointed tasks. They knew their business well.
"An offering to Talos?" Jak asked Evrel.
"Ship's custom," Evrel explained. "You encounter a storm at sea, you throw a sacrifice to the Stormlord over the bow and ask him to spare the ship. Rix is no priest, but he takes the duty seriously enough that Talos might hear him, or at least won't be offended by him trying."
Jak nodded, looked thoughtfully ahead to the gathering storm, and back to the captain. He reached into a cloak pocket and pulled out a large garnet.
"Give him this to sacrifice, too," the little man said.
The captain laughed aloud and took the gem.
"A storm at sea makes a man feel small, doesn't it?"
Jak only smiled sheepishly.
"This also," Magadon said. The guide withdrew from his pocket an almost perfectly round, polished river stone that featured bands of gray and red.
"It's not worth much, but it took my fancy. I've had it for years. Kept it for luck. I took it from the bed of the Cedar River, deep in the Gulthmere. Who knows, it may please the god of storms."
The captain took the stone, added it to Jak's gem, and left the three of them alone on the deck.
"Can't hurt, I figure," Jak explained to Cale and Magadon.
"I thought the same," Magadon offered.
Cale stared at the black, lightning-torn sky ahead and wondered if he shouldn't have offered Talos something himself.
* * * * *
Azriim watched the storm clouds gather. The crew watched them too and muttered nervously. Lightning veined the clouds. Thunder boomed overhead. The wind picked up, carried to them the smell of rain. Sails snapped in the rising breeze. The swells started to grow. The ship began to noticeably rise and fall in the waves.
"That ain't no natural storm!" A sailor perched in the crow's nest atop the mainmast called his observation down to the captain.
Murmurs of agreement sounded from the rest of the crew. Eyes looked accusingly at Azriim, Dolgan, and Riven, the "wizards" who had brought them trouble.
"It's as natural as the rock your mother struck against your head at birth," shouted another crewman, and the joke elicited some nervous smiles from the crew.
Beside Azriim, Dolgan projected, We may have a mutiny if we force them to sail into that.
Riven snickered and answered, We kill a few and the rest will fall into line. I've seen it before.
Azriim smiled at that. None of that should be necessary.
His spell still held Captain Sertan enchanted, and from everything Azriim had seen, the crew would follow their captain down the River of Blood if he commanded it. They would grumble, but they would obey.
"Come," Azriim said. "Let us go see Sertan."
The three of them walked over the maindeck to the captain, who stood beside his helmsman near the sterncastle. Azriim smiled a greeting while he eyed the Sojourner's compass, sitting on a stool beside the helm. The needle pointed directly into the storm and-if Azriim was not imagining it-it also pointed ever so slightly downward.
Sertan, one hand holding a line above him, nodded at the sky and said, "My friend, we should turn back. I've seen ships vanish in storms that made less dire promises than that one."
"She's a black heart," the helmsman agreed.
Azriim made a show of looking at the cloudbank and nodding. He turned to Sertan and said, "My friend, we need to continue onward. I can double your pay, if need be. It's important that we proceed. In the name of our friendship, don't fail me now."
Riven masked a laugh with a cough. Even Azriim had to admit that he was laying it on pretty heavily.
"More coin does drowned men no good," Sertan answered, though the sly look in his eye belied his words. "And I no more want you to drown than me."
I will eat him, Dolgan projected. And you take his form.
Shut up, Azriim answered his broodmate.
Dolgan crossed his arms and huffed.
"Come now, you are no ordinary seaman," Azriim said. "And this is no ordinary crew. Dolphin's Coffer can cut a path through that, I have no doubt. Triple the pay when we return to a Sembian port."
Sertan frowned, but licked his lips greedily.
"I thought you were disembarking? You will be returning to the ship then?"
"Of course," Azriim lied, smiling. "We will disembark for a time, descend below the waves, and return. How else would we get back to land?"
Sertan chewed his moustache.
"Come, my friend," Azriim chided. "Nothing dared, nothing won. Isn't that right? I'm offering all I have. It's that important to me."
Sertan's Sembian greed and Azriim's enchantment made the outcome a foregone conclusion. After only a few moments, Sertan nodded and said, "Done. And we'll get you through."
To the crew, Sertan shouted, "String some lines, lads, and reinforce the sail rigging! Get the boys out of the nests! No one on the masts! We're sailing down that storm's gullet and out its arse."
Azriim allowed himself a smile. He had won the only battle with Sertan that he would have to fight. Once the storm had a grip on Dolphin's Coffer, there would be no turning back.
* * * * *
Outside the former temple of Cyric, Vhostym prepared to cast one of the most powerful spells known to any caster on any world. The magic defied categorization. In the end, it brought into being what Vhostym willed-but within limits.
The casting required for its power a small tithe of the wizard's own being. Vhostym, of course, had only so much to give, or would have had only so much to give, if it had been his being that would power the spell. But it would not. Instead, he would draw on the stored power contained in the Weave Tap. The artifact would power the spell, sparing Vhostym the necessity of sacrificing some of his already dwindling lifespan.