Sfarrag glared at the brazier, where the last vestiges of the ghastly plant fizzed to nothing. He nodded.
“Sometime before dawn I think you said?” Nyam smiled.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you keelhauled and your bloody remnants fed to the sharks?” snarled Vortermars.
Nyam Hordath sat back and grimaced. He was aboard the Sea Harlot in the cabin, the ship riding easily at anchor several miles offshore from Shae Thoridor. Sfarrag had been as good as his word for once and arranged the meeting. Nyam had come alone, though Vaddi had argued fiercely with him that it was far too risky, but Nyam’s stubborn insistence had won out. In the first wash of dawn light, his grin was pale and not a little sickly.
“Come, Vortermars, you and I have been freebooters for a long time. Since when did we start slitting each other’s throats?”
Across the table, the pirate returned his stare, seemingly burning with anger But suddenly his weather-beaten features split in a grin. “Curse it, I have to admire your nerve, Daal, Bereth, or whatever your name is.”
“Nyam Hordath.”
“Aye, well, you never lacked for gall. And I’m supposed to be swayed by your arguments, eh? You think I’ll believe you’re in with the Deathguard? You say they want to commission my ship, eh?”
“Vortermars, you and I are always pawns in the greater games, but we look after our own interests first. Isn’t that so?”
The pirate laughed. “Go on.”
“We are opportunists. You were given an opportunity back in Pylas Maradal—abduct the Valenar sorceress and transport her for the cleric. You carried out your part of the bargain. The Valenar are not pleased, but the real villain of the piece is the cleric. I assume you owe him no further allegiance?”
“Why should I, eh? He’s not been back.”
“Nor will he, I think. He has flown to his master. You have been paid for your part in the deal?”
Vortermars said nothing.
“I assume you are a free agent once more. The Deathguard have not put a price on your head. Not yet.”
“They want this cleric, eh?”
“Yes. They have retrieved the girl.”
Vortermars shrugged. “She’s of no interest to me. Seems to me the cleric was more anxious to snare the boy, eh? The girl was no more than bait. What’s so special about him, eh? What’s he got?”
Nyam chuckled. “Nothing that concerns you, but the cleric and his master have stirred up a hornet’s nest. Vaddi d’Orien and the girl are together in Shae Thoridor. They make a formidable team, given their powers.”
“Yeah, it took a lot to control her.”
“She has powerful allies—not the least of which are the Deathguard.”
“Word is they saved you from the Stillborn.”
“They did. And have done more. This business of ours will conclude matters.”
“You say I’ll have immunity, eh?”
“It will be part of the deal.”
“So what d’you want?”
Nyam leaned forward. “We think the cleric has fled to Xen’drik. He cannot be allowed to go free. The Valenar and their families demand satisfaction. They want the cleric and whoever commissioned the abduction brought before them. The Undying Court would probably not sanction action—not openly anyway. You know how they are, and we have no idea how great a force is mustered in Xen’drik.”
“Force?” said Vortermars.
“We assume the cleric is working for a powerful master. If we are to go to Xen’drik, we need to be shielded. What better way than to go as pirates? Who sails the seas as freely?”
Vortermars leaned back thoughtfully. “I see. You want to send a small force into Xen’drik, and you want to use my ship to cover you, eh?”
“The rewards will be significant.”
“Journey like that, I’d want a big payoff.”
“Of course. Quite apart from total absolution from your part in the abduction, you will be rich, Vortermars. I mean rich, the sort of rich that freebooters such as you and I have dreamed about since we were knee high.”
Vortermars’s eyes narrowed, but Nyam could see the gleam of lust in their gaze. “Go on.”
“You have only to land us on Xen’drik’s shores. There will be no need for you to involve yourself in any conflict, and once we have dealt with the cleric—”
“Presuming you’re successful.”
“Yes, yes. Then we will need returning here.”
“When do I get paid?”
“There will be a substantial advance, of course.”
Vortermars guffawed. “There’d have to be! What if your expedition to Xen’drik falls flat on its face? You’re likely to be squashed like flies, once you land. I’ve contacts with the barbarians there, but inland? I’d rather visit the Mournland!”
“Arrangements will be made to pay you, whatever happens to our expedition.”
Vortermars stood and paced the narrow cabin, his head bent to avoid the low beams above him. “I’m an old hand at this, Hordath. You and me both, eh? I smell a trap. Wouldn’t you?”
“Probably. But you and I are small fish. I assure you, the elves are concerned with bigger game. Trust me.”
“Honor among thieves, eh?”
“Quite so.”
“So what’s to stop me from dumping you overboard now and running with the next tide?”
“Probably the blockade awaiting you at the mouth of the inlet. It’s not only the Deathguard who have a stake in this. One of the Valenar, Ardal Barragond, came here in pursuit of the girl. He died.”
“Ardal Barragond? From Pylas Maradal? From the Finnarra warclan, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Then there’ll be a reckoning. Blood will have blood, eh?”
“Oh, yes. My guess is you’d rather it was the cleric’s than yours?”
Vortermars sat down and pondered for a while. “You always did drive a hard bargain.”
“I’d disappoint you if it were otherwise, eh?”
18
Across the Thunder Sea
An hour before dawn they laid Ardal Barragond and the Deathguard warriors who had died in the Madwood in their final resting place in Shae Thoridor. Vaddi and Zemella stood to one side, watching as the Aereni warriors murmured their last prayers, heads bowed in the soft morning light. They were gathered in a small grove at the rear of Fallarond’s retreat, under the dissipating shadows of the trees, which themselves seemed bent in recognition of the passing heroes.
Vaddi and Zemella slipped away back into the cool corridors of the building.
“I still think it was headstrong of you to enter the Madwood,” she told him, a mild look of rebuke on her face.
He groped for the words to explain himself, even more daunted by the thought that elves had died on that quest.
“You are the custodian of Erethindel, Vaddi. You should have put its safety before anything else.”
“I could not leave you to the Emerald Claw. The thought of you—”
“I am flattered,” she said, though she did not smile, “but we are now in a worse predicament.”
“You are safe.”
“I am not important!”
There is nothing more important to me, he wanted to tell her.
“What do you plan to do now?” she went on, arms folded across her chest, as if setting a barrier between them.
“I have to recover the horn. Nyam’s plan is a risky one… ”
“True enough, but what if he does not return? What if the pirate sends back his head?”
Vaddi grimaced. “Somehow I don’t think even Vortermars would do that. Nyam is a curious character.”
“He has sacrificed much to help the Keepers. Since his family died, he has served us as loyally as any elf.”
“I never really did believe he would betray me, though part of Cellester’s deceit was to have me think so.”
“Vortermars would betray you. His allegiance is to himself alone. You need to understand that, Vaddi.”