The crew rose to their feet and looked around with dazed expressions. One cheered, another, another. Soon the whole crew was shouting, singing, thumping each other on the back.
Smiling faces turned to Magadon and lost their mirth. Magadon touched a hand to his face. It came away bloody. His vision blurred and he fell.
CHAPTER 14
THE SPELL
The surge of power from the planted Weave Tap seed caused the tower to shake under Vhostym's feet. His sons had done it! They had planted the second seed of the Weave Tap in Sakkors's mantle.
A charge went through Vhostym's frail body, a wave of exultation that would have caused him to leap for joy had his body not been so broken. He controlled his emotions only with difficulty.
Soon he would have the Crown of Flame.
Vhostym had been young when he and his father first had walked in the shadow of the Crown. Vhostym had been stronger then, not as sensitive to light. He still remembered the smell of the wind off the water, the feel of the air on his skin, the sounds of the surface heard through his own ears. He recalled the moments with fondness. The light had burned his skin but he had endured; his father had made him endure. Father had intended to harden Vhostym to pain, and to excite his ambition by showing him the possibility of a life on the surface, under the sun.
Father had taught the lesson well.
Vhostym had come to believe that nothing was unattainable, not for him, and he was about to prove it. He could track the course of his life back to those moments shared with his father under the Crown of Flame. In a sense, he had been born that day on the surface. He could trace all the accomplishments of his life back to that single event.
It was fitting, then, that he would end his life with the same event. He would create a Crown of Flame, tame it not only for a few moments but for an entire day, and walk in its shadow before he died.
He thought of his sons and reached out his mental consciousness for them. He linked with Azriim and Dolgan immediately. He saw through their eyes a dark city street. They were in Selgaunt, and both were restless.
He allowed Azriim to sense the contact.
Sojourner, his son said. We wish what we were promised.
Soon, Vhostym answered. It would be dangerous for you to return here now. Wait where you are. I will contact you after I have completed my task. All of this will be finished soon.
He sensed Azriim's perturbation, Dolgan's disappointment, the human's . . . ambivalence.
He reassured his sons. You will have what you were promised. I will keep my word. I will leave here what you require for your transformations.
Leave it for us? Azriim asked. You will not be there?
Vhostym heard no concern in Azriim's mental voice, merely curiosity. He had taught his sons well. Sentimentality was a shackle with which the weak yoked the strong.
Yes, leave it for you, Vhostym affirmed. We will not see each other again.
His sons fell silent. The words surprised them.
I will contact you not long after dawn, Vhostym said. Remember that what you see this day is my doing.
He cut off the connection before they could trouble him with further questions. He had preparations to make.
* * * * *
"What now?" Dolgan asked. Sea water soaked the street at the big slaad's feet.
Azriim and Dolgan had assumed their preferred half-drow and human forms, and Riven had returned to his natural form. The three stood on a narrow street in Selgaunt. All were soaking wet and the human's lips were blue. No doubt he was cold from the night's chill.
Dawn was still an hour or two away and only dung-sweepers populated the otherwise deserted streets.
"We wait," Azriim said. He looked down at his filthy, torn, water-stained clothing. "And as soon as the shops open, I buy some new attire."
* * * * *
Cale and Jak materialized in the darkness of one of Selgaunt's countless alleys. Cale recognized the location-not far from Temple Avenue. Their sudden appearance startled several cats and the felines screeched and fled. The sound reminded Cale of the kraken's shriek. He put it out of his mind. They were safe now.
For a time, they simply caught their breath. Water dripped from their clothes and bodies. Jak bore a scratch on his face from Dolgan, as well as several deep gashes from troll claws on his midsection. Cale's flesh had healed his wounds. The little man took out his holy symbol, called on Brandobaris, and spoke a spell of healing. His wounds closed entirely.
"What about Magadon?" Jak asked, as he wrung out his shirt. They had left their cloaks and almost all of their other clothing on Demon Binder.
Cale shook his head, removed his own shirt, and wrung it out. The night air would have chilled him had his warming spell not still been in effect.
"I think he got Demon Binder clear," Cale said to Jak, hoping that by saying it he might make it true. "I did not see the ship when we surfaced. Did you?"
"No time to look. But... wouldn't Mags contact us if he could?"
Cale had been thinking the same thing but did not say so to Jak. Instead, he said, "He has only so much mental strength, little man. Could be that. I can scry for the ship, see if they're all right."
Jak brightened at that. "Right now? Here?"
"No. Midnight next."
The scrying spell took preparation and Cale could not be ready until then.
Jak deflated a bit but nodded. He mumbled to himself, fished in one of his three belt pouches until he found his pipe.
"Did it stay dry?" Cale asked.
"Dry enough," Jak murmured, and searched another pouch for his pipeweed. "I have never seen anything as big as that kraken, Cale. Never."
"Me either," Cale said softly.
Jak removed a small leather pouch tied with a drawstring and pried it open. Cale caught the aroma of the weed.
Jak pulled out a pinch and held it up. "Dry as a fallen leaf. Now that's a pouch worth its price."
Cale saw that Jak's hands were shaking, and not from the chill. Cale pretended not to notice. It had been a close call with the kraken, and Cale had been close to panic himself.
The little man managed his emotion by humming while he pressed the pinch of pipeweed into the bowl of his pipe. He searched his pouches for a tindertwig and found several-all of them ruined by sea water. The humming stopped.
"Where am I going to get tindertwigs two hours before dawn?"
"You're not," Cale said.
"No, I'm not," Jak said, and Cale saw tears in his eyes. Exhaustion and emotion were taking their toll.
Again, Cale pretended not to notice.
Jak recovered himself with a deep breath. He popped the pipe in his mouth and chewed its end.
"What do we do now?" the little man asked.
"We wait," Cale answered gently. "And relax while we can."
"That sounds about right. The Murky Depths, maybe?"
Cale grinned and shook his head. "I've seen enough of the depths to last a good while, little man. We'll find something else dockside."
Jak nodded and they set off.
Cale put his hand on Jak's shoulder as they walked the quiet, predawn streets of the city in which they had met, just as they had done countless times before, and just as they would countless times after.
"This is almost over, little man," Cale said.
Jak looked at him sidelong, nodded, and said nothing.
Cale did not tell Jak that he thought this reprieve to be the deep breath before the plunge. They still had to find the slaadi and the Sojourner and kill them all.
They could not find an inn that would open its doors, so they wandered onto Temple Avenue. It was deserted, except for the cranks who slept on the benches. The starlings nesting in the Hulorn's statuary rustled at their passing. The wind stirred the leaves of the dwarf maples.