“Hiding outside. I reckoned that even if one of your people spotted me sneaking in, he might not take any notice if I just kept these hidden.” He pushed back his scarlet cape and lifted his arms, displaying torn, bloodstained sleeves and the scabby gashes inside. “But Tu’ala’keth’s harder to overlook.”
“What do you want?”
“Could we talk about it in here?” Anton nodded toward the doorway through which he’d just emerged. “It’s a nice room and more private than a corridor in a busy house.”
Teldar frowned, pondering. All he had to do was shout, and his men would come running to take Anton prisoner. Then he could question the spy in complete safety. Yet his instincts told him the intruder meant no harm, and even if he did, the pirate was confident of his ability to handle a lone assassin. So, as Anton had piqued his curiosity, why not grant him a private conversation? At the very least, it promised to be interesting.
“After you,” Teldar said.
As Anton had said, it was a pleasant room, with shelves of fragrant leather-bound logs and rudders taken from scores of prizes, framed charts from places as far away as Lantan decorating the walls, and a lanceboard with its sixty-four squares of alternating red and white. The chessmen sat neatly centered in their starting positions, ivory on one side, carnelian on the other.
“All right,” the pirate said. “You’re a spy. For Impiltur, Cormyr, or whomever. I suppose you and your accomplice have gleaned the most about Vurgrom’s business, but you’ve had ample opportunity to pry into my affairs, and the dealings of all Immurk’s Hold, as well. Should you escape to report your findings, you could do all us reavers incalculable harm. Perhaps you even know the disposition of the breakrocks, and the rest of our defenses. Maybe you’ve stolen all the secrets your masters need to launch a full-scale assault on Dragon Isle. What, then, can you possibly expect from me?”
“You’re a shrewd, careful man, and you built this fortress. Accordingly, I suspect it has an escape tunnel, with a well-provisioned sailboat at the end. If you saw fit, you could help Tu’ala’keth and me get away, and even your own followerswho, I realize, might take exceptionwould know nothing about it.”
Teldar snorted. “I could also stick feathers in my ears and squawk like a gull. But it’s unlikely.”
“Look,” Anton said, “you’re right: I am a spy. I’d deny it if I thought it would help, but I can tell the game is up. I’ve worked against you pirates for a while now. The intelligence I’ve gathered has sent your ships to the bottom and their crews to the gallows.
“But I swear on the Red Knight’s sword, this summer, I have a different target: the Cult of the Dragon.”
“Then why trouble Dragon Isle?”
“Because it was a way to pick up their trail.”
“And did you?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. My next move is to make my report. Then my superiors will send a fleet to wipe the madmen out.”
“Interesting, but I’m still unclear as to why I should help you. You’re a dangerous man, and have, by your own admission, injured me in the past. It would be sensible to ensure you won’t do so again.”
“Ordinarily, I’d agree with you. But this is a unique time. Do you understand the cult’s ultimate goal?”
“To turn live dragons into undead ones?”
“Yes, and this is their moment. As I understand it, wyrms who haven’t yet contracted frenzy are scared of getting it, and changing into dracoliches renders them immune. So they’re seeking out the cult in record numbers, and the necromancers and such are making a supreme effort to transform them as quickly as possible. By the end of the year, we could have a dozen dracoliches bedeviling the Sea of Fallen Stars. Maybe more. Imagine what that would do to your business.”
“I’ve never seen a dracolich,” Teldar replied, “but from what I’ve heard, it wouldn’t be a pleasant prospect.”
“Then help me prevent it. I’m not asking you to send your own ships to fight wyrms and sorcerers. Just let me fetch the folk who are willing to take on the job.”
Teldar sheathed his weapons and doffed his slate-gray cape. “We’ll wrap the shalarin in this to bring her inside. That fin on her back will keep it from fitting properly, but it has a virtue in it that will make her inconspicuous even so.”
“Before we fetch her, I have to ask one more thing of you: Tu’ala’keth’s intentions aren’t the same as mine, and she doesn’t know what I intend to do with the information we’ve gathered. Please, don’t tell her.”
“All right, but in that case, why am I helping you, if not to visit destruction on the cultists?”
“Because we’re bribing you with a story that will make Vurgrom a laughingstock, and with all the jewelry Shandri Clayhill used to wear.”
Teldar smiled. “Well, that will be a nice bonus.” He gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”
CHAPTER 7
Arms aching, one hand resting on the tiller, Anton peered back along the sailboat’s wake. He still couldn’t see any sign of pursuit, nor, for that matter, could he see much of Dragon Isle itself anymore, though the towering promontory called the Earthspur still blocked out a section of the stars.
As the island was fading from view, so, too, was it time to put it from his thoughts, as he’d put so many comparable episodes behind him. But as yet, he hadn’t managed to close the door on the memories.
Tu’ala’keth sat in the bow. “You are troubled,” she said, “even though we have now accomplished the first portion of our task. Do you regret killing Shandri Clayhill?”
He didn’t feel like talking about it. But by confiding in Tu’ala’keth, he would inspire her trust in turn, and that was what he wanted. So, as was so often the case, his honest inclinations didn’t matter. “I shouldn’t. She was an enemy of my homeland, and anyway, you gave her a chance to save herself. But I do.”
“You and I should not have attachments. Not now. Nothing should distract us while we are blades in Umberlee’s hands.”
His lips quirked upward in a bitter smile. “That’s the way I always live: Only the task matters.”
“It is the best way to live. You should rejoice in possessing such a spirit. But I see you do not. Not tonight.”
Off to starboard, something splashed. He wondered if it was one of the seahorses keeping pace with them. “No, not tonight.”
“I do not blame you. We must strive to emulate Umberlee, but we cannot be as fierce and dauntless as a goddess, no matter how we try. I, too, have my weaknesses and doubts.”
“You hide them well.”
“Nevertheless. I misjudged Vurgrom twice. I never dreamed he’d assault me, no matter how I teased him, and I imagined the threat of humiliation would deter him from sending his underlings to kill us.”
He shrugged. “It’s understandable you made mistakes. Humans are strange to you.”
She hesitated. “But I also lied to you, Umberlee’s champion, my comrade in a sacred venture, and for that I am truly sorry.”
He squinted at her, but even though she wasn’t wearing her goggles, he couldn’t read her narrow, fine-boned face in the dark. “What are you talking about?”
“I said that when we shalarins reestablished contact with our kindred in the Sea of Corynactis, the vast majority of us forsook Umberlee for the gods of our ancestors, and that much is true. That was the impetus. But this is what I did not tell you: The others did not abandon all the deities of Faerun. Though they pay homage to the old powers, they also still gather at the altars of Trishina, Persana, and Eldath. It is only the Queen of the Depths whom they have scorned.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand why you bothered to lie about that. For our purposes, what’s the difference?”
“None. But it reflects poorly on me, does it not? Were I as able a priestess as the clerics of Trishina and the other deities, I too could convey the glory of my patron and inspire her worshipers. Or so it seems to me when I grow discouraged. I misrepresented the situation to hide my shame.”