“Where did you go?”
“A relation’s farm in Cormyr. Mama and I were both relieved to be away from him. We missed who he had been, but we were happy there,” Verran paused. “He found us a year later, after he’d had a change of heart. I’m amazed he found the strength to get away from them. But he couldn’t escape the demon at that point, just fight it. He was a broken man. He’d sit in the fields for hours staring at the sky.
“I was in the village when … something came to the house and killed him and Mama. Our neighbor found me and told me what happened. They smuggled me out of the province that very day. There’s no reason for it to be looking for me, but still I wonder. It’s why I joined the Crane.”
Harp laid his hand on Verran’s shoulder. “None of us have an empty road behind us.”
“No, I guess not,” Verran said, but he sounded unconvinced. He turned sharply as Boult and Kitto walked up to them. Behind them, Harp could see Cenhar rowing the skiff across the waves to the Crane.
“Did you do the spell on the ship?” Boult asked abruptly. “The one that melted the captain?”
Verran looked at his fingers. “I’m not sure.”
“How could you not know?” Boult demanded.
“It seems too powerful for me. Once we left home, my mother wouldn’t let me try spells anymore. She was too scared.”
“And do you try spells now?” Harp inquired.
“Sometimes,” Verran admitted. “And sometimes things just happen.”
“Has anyone ever gotten hurt?” Harp asked.
“You mean besides the dead captain?” Boult reminded him.
“I’ve never hurt anyone … who didn’t deserve it,” Verran finished slowly.
“That’s comforting,” Boult said sarcastically.
“It’s been useful to us so far,” Harp pointed out. “Verran, I don’t supposed you have another useful spell that can locate the path?”
Verran looked sheepish. “It’s over there.”
“Did you just figure that out?” Harp asked.
“Um, a little while back. Before Cenhar was attacked. I was on that side of the trees when you shouted,” Verran replied. “And there’s something else.”
“I hope it’s a welcoming party,” Boult said.
“No. I think there’s a body on the other side of the trees.”
A mesh of woven branches hid the path. Without Verran’s luck, there was little chance they would have discovered it. And without the path, there was little chance they would have made it very far through the twisted undergrowth, fungus slicks, and flesh-eating vines.
“You think it was Bootman’s crew who covered the path?” Harp asked Boult as they made their way down the narrow channel through the dense vegetation. It was more like a tunnel than a path, with leaves and branches intertwining over their heads. Without regular travel across the ground, the jungle would soon retake the unnatural highway that allowed intruders to enter its confines.
“Doubtful,” Boult said. “That wasn’t done yesterday. There was new growth mixed in with the cover. Plus, someone shaped the vines. I don’t think they formed that latticework naturally.”
Boult glanced at Harp out of the corner of his eye. Kitto and Verran were ahead of them on the path, and Boult wanted to know what Verran had told Harp. Boult had been suspicious of Verran from the moment they met him in a waterfront village south of the Amn border. A cold, stinging rain had fallen in sheets, soaking the shivering boy. At first glance, it was obvious the boy was unprepared for whatever he was dealing with. Boult barely gave him a second thought, but Harp had stopped and struck up a conversation.
Harp had bought the boy a hot meal in a nearby inn, and before Boult could kick his captain under the table, Harp had hired the strapping lad to help on the Crane. Despite the fact that he said he didn’t know how to sail. Or use a sword. Or work a trade. Boult didn’t have much use for such helplessness. But Harp was drawn to a needy person like a moth to a flame.
“You’d hire a plague rat to sail our ship,” Boult grumbled as he stomped through the jungle. He glared up at Harp, hoping to get a rise out of him.
“Huh?” Harp asked.
“A plague rat,” Boult repeated impatiently. “And you wouldn’t be able to see his dagger at your throat.”
Harp looked at Boult like he’d lost his senses. “Since when do rats have daggers? What are you babbling about?”
“I’m talking about Verran,” Boult said.
Harp’s brow furrowed. “He’s had a hard time of it, Boult. Give him a chance.”
“He’s a wild shot,” Boult said with annoyance. He should have known that Harp was going to defend him.
“Sometimes wild shots hit their mark,” Harp said. “He took out Bootman. That was helpful.”
“He could have just as easily taken you out,” Boult said. “That doesn’t make you a little nervous?”
“He could have. He didn’t,” Harp said. “And if we find Liel’s body, I’ll be grateful to him.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because I’d know for sure,” Harp said. “I’d know that she was gone.”
Boult sucked in a mouthful of air, mainly to keep himself from saying what he wanted to. Harp’s pining for Liel had gotten old years before, and he hoped the trip into Chult would end it, in whatever way necessary.
“Do you actually think we’re just going to stumble on Liel’s body as soon as we walk into the huge, highly dangerous jungle? Do you know how many people die in the jungle every day?”
Harp rolled his eyes. “No, and neither do you.”
“It has to be a lot. Do you know how many ways there are to die in the jungle? Animals, disease, cannibals … Did I mention they have a disease down here that turns your tongue into an actual slug. In your mouth. Did you hear me? A slug.”
“Ugh,” Harp shuddered. “Tell me why I took the job again?”
“Cause you’re a drunk who can barely keep his ship.”
“Again. Not helping.”
“And I’m not trying to. You were a good sailor once,” Boult said.
“I was good,” Harp said. “That’s why you made me captain.”
Boult snorted. “We made you captain because no one follows a dwarf who gets seasick.”
“Particularly not one as charming as you.”
“There’s another way,” Boult said, after a moment. “We could signal the crew and sail the ships to port.”
“No. I told you already. We have a job to do.”
“We’re not prepared for the jungle,” Boult said quietly. “And selling the Marigold will equal the rest of Avalor’s payment.”
“I’m going to the colony.”
“There’s a good chance that Liel is dead, Harp. What do you want to find? Her decomposing body? Bring it home to her father in a box?”
“Cardew survived somehow,” Harp pointed out. “And I’ll wager Liel is mountains stronger than her pitiful excuse for a husband.”
“Unless he killed her. That’s what Avalor thinks happened, isn’t it?”
Harp hesitated. “He wants proof. And when I find it, it will give me every justification to cut Cardew’s throat.”
“Vankila’s not enough?” When Harp didn’t respond, Boult continued. “Why would Cardew bring Liel all the way down here to kill her?” Boult said. “Why not just kill her in Tethyr? Or just have her kidnapped. Again.”
“Too much protection? Avalor is well connected. And it’s more than that, anyway. Avalor thinks Cardew has his heart set on something else.”
Boult stopped in his tracks. “Avalor thinks so? So what does that sniveling blot of a man have his sights set on?”
“Not much,” Harp said pushing a large fern frond out of his way. “Just the kingdom of Tethyr in the palm of his hand.”
It had been Boult who insisted that Harp answer Avalor’s summons in the first place. Harp and Avalor had never met in person, but the powerful elf had summoned him, and him alone, for a reason. If Avalor offered them a paying job, they would have to take it. Otherwise they were going to lose the Crane. If Harp was being summoned for another reason, he would just have to deal with whatever news Avalor had for him.