"Why should any sahuagin die if it's not necessary?" she asked.
"Because, little malenti, I have need of their deaths, and they must prove their fealty to me if I'm to champion their cause in this world." Iakhovas surveyed the nearing warning lights of Waterdeep Harbor. Anchored buoys clanged in the distance near Deepwater Isle, warning of the shallows there. "Sacrifices must be made. As I've learned, this is the last day in Ches, a time of holidays in Deepwater."
Laaqueel had learned that even as Iakhovas had. The Waterdhavians called the festival Fleetswake. During that time the mariners and the city gave homage to Umberlee, the dread sea goddess. Umberlee's Cache lay in the belly of the sloping bowl of Deepwater Harbor on the other side of Darkwater Isle. In years past, offerings to Umber-lee had been dropped on the harbor floor, then mermaid shamans had broken that floor open to the great cavern system below that no one had ever mapped out. Every now and again, the malenti spotted the magical beam of the lighthouse near Umberlee's Cache skate below the dark waters ahead of them. It was used to guide the merfolk that were part of Waterdeep's defense hierarchy.
"The promise and bounty of Fleetswake convokes ships from over all Faerun, giving the surface dwellers a dream of shared peace and prosperity," Iakhovas went on. "Traders, warriors, craftsmen, bards, and thieves, all will be represented on those cobblestone streets. There will be many in Waterdeep to tell the tale of the battle this night. They will spread that tale to the corners of all Toril, their wagging tongues making the story larger and more intense as it is passed along."
"The surface dwellers could be incited to hunt the sahuagin down."
Iakhovas laughed loudly. "Little malenti, let them come. Let them rise above their cowardice, strap their weapons about their loins, and sail out into these seas that I have marked as mine. If they sail out into the sea after us, they sail only to their deaths. In fact, it will only help my cause if part of this war is played out in our element. We can bare our teeth and our claws, and show them the foolishness of any sort of resistance. It will also serve to threaten the other sahuagin tribes who haven't seen fit to join our effort."
"The surface dwellers could unite."
Iakhovas shook his head. "Not according to everything I've studied about these jealous cultures," he told her. "These nations of surface dwellers have long histories of bitter feuds and rivalry over trade agreements, religion, and politics. What countries can hope to survive if they follow a path laden with those traps and snares? No, even should they endeavor to agree on a common enemy, we shall own the seas. In their limited intelligence and greed, the surface dwellers may have learned to cross the oceans, but they'll never master them, never the way I have."
Laaqueel had other doubts that she almost voiced. She didn't, though, since she knew Iakhovas would counter each of them with an argument of his own.
"Ready yourself, little malenti," Iakhovas ordered, pointing at the approaching small lateen-sailed galley bearing Waterdhavian colors. The galleys supported the navy rakers that provided protection for the harbor.
The malenti moved forward, standing at her master's side and holding her trident at the ready. She carried a sword belted at her waist. She didn't much care for the weapon, but she'd been trained to use it.
"Ahoy, Drifting Eel," a mariner wearing the uniform of the Waterdeep Guard called out. A dozen other men stood in the galley's prow, armed with heavy crossbows and swords. The crew aboard her matched speeds with the pentekonter easily, pulling alongside and remaining only a few yards out from the bigger ship's oars.
"Ahoy," Iakhovas called back.
"State your name, home port, and business within Waterdeep Harbor," the guard ordered, waving men into action who shined bulls-eye lanterns over the pentekonter.
"I stand before you, birth-named Iakhovas, captain of Drifting Eel. As for a home port, we hail from Snowdown, in the Moonshaes. Why we're here? Why, man, it's Fleetswake, a time of revel and a time of profit for a man who's got coin to be spent and a cargo worth buying. I'd not forsake Waterdeep's hospitality at this time for anything."
The guard smiled and looked tired. "You're getting here late," he said.
"Aye," Iakhovas replied, "and had the parsimonious storm we had the ill-favor to encounter and embrace two days ago had been more inclined than I, I'd not be here at all."
"How much damage did you take on?" the guard asked. A frown creased his face. "I don't want any lagging ships standing in the way of the shipping lanes. If you're not all together, you can moor up outside the harbor and pay passage on some of the service boats to get inside the city."
"Trust me," Iakhovas answered. "Should anything go wrong with this vessel, you'll be the first to know. I've seen to the repairs, and now I'm ready to make back the losses I've incurred."
The harbor guard shined his lantern at the pentekonter's water line. "You're riding low, Cap'n Iakhovas."
Even the modified outriggers hadn't been able to compensate for the ship's increased draw made necessary to keep the sahuagin rowers aboard underwater. Laaqueel had hoped it wouldn't be as apparent when they arrived at night, but the surface dwellers knew their vessels.
"My dear fellow, the sheer amount of cargo we're carrying is justification enough to force us to sit low in the water," Iakhovas replied.
"You must have brought a lot."
"Everything we found we were able to pack into the hold."
"I'm Civilar Noth of the Waterdeep Guard," the man said. "Prepare to be boarded and present your manifests."
Iakhovas called out the order to lower the rope ladder. One of the wererats kicked it and sent the rope ladder bundle spilling down the side of the pentekonter. The bottom several rungs landed in the water with a flat splat.
The civilar and two of his people swarmed up the ladder with practiced ease. Laaqueel noted that they kept their hands on the hilts of their short swords, and something magical clung to one or more of them. Her priestess training had made her sensitive to magic auras. She considered invoking the gifts given to her from Sekolah but didn't. The spells the Shark God had given her needed to be held for a later time.
Iakhovas's magic seemed to know no bounds, though. The malenti remembered in the beginning, after she'd found him, that his powers had been so scarce she'd nearly escaped him half a dozen times. Now he commanded large amounts of magic easily, and that seemed to grow with each item he recovered.
The glamour Iakhovas had cast over the pentekonter held, making Drifting Eel look like a normal ship with a normal crew.
The civilar crossed the deck and took out the blank sheet of paper Iakhovas handed him. "Everything here's satisfactory," he declared after a moment. "I'd like to take a look at the hold."
"Of course." Iakhovas raised his one-eyed gaze to Laaqueel. "My associate will show you the way, if you please."
Laaqueel nodded, but remained silent. She didn't know if Iakhovas's spell rendered her as a male or female and she didn't want her voice to betray it, if that was possible. The sorcerer's abilities had never failed. She led the Waterdhavian Guardsmen down into the hold, readying her own spells if she needed them.
If the civilar and his entourage noticed her duck away from the lantern's bright light when they brought it close, they didn't give any indication. She paused at the bottom of the hold, looking out over the sahuagin still working at the oars. They kept up the cadence, seated in the murky water that lapped over their heads.