Afterward, they returned to the bow and Anton peered out into the moonless, starless blackness hoping to spot another vessel’s lanterns. Sitting beside him, Umara asked, “Why do you even need to chase Stedd?”
Anton snorted. “I thought we covered that. For the coin.”
“But why do you need any more treasure?” She tugged her hood down in an effort to keep the rain out of her face. “I mean, I know why my family has a proud name and little else. The great War of the Zulkirs devastated much of Thay, and it certainly blighted our land. And in the decades since, Szass Tam hasn’t much concerned himself with providing opportunities for folk who are still alive. But you …”
“But I’m Anton Marivaldi. The madman who plundered the spice fleet out of Telflamm. The fiend who burned the harbor at Delthuntle. Why is it I’m not already rich as a merchant prince and long retired from the sea?”
“Well … I wasn’t going to say ‘madman’ or ‘fiend.’ But yes.”
He shook his head. “It’s a good question. Somehow, the coin and gems always run through my fingers in a heartbeat. Cormyr could fight Sembia for a year on the treasure I’ve squandered standing drinks for taverns full of rogues who’d knife me for a shaved copper. Maybe it’s because I can’t imagine going away and living a different life.”
“Is being a pirate truly all that grand?”
He thought about it. “No. Not really. But it’s what there is. For me.”
Her tone wistful, Umara said, “I can understand that.”
The sailboat bucked almost like a horse as it met the waves, but as she gazed into the dark and the rain, Umara no longer feared being bounced around on her bench or, worse, being bounced overboard. After several days at sea, she was accustomed to the motion of the vessel.
In fact, she was surprised at how relaxed she was in general. At first, a mage’s disciplined patience notwithstanding, she’d experienced bouts of frustration that a galley that had left port only shortly before Falrinn’s sailboat should prove so elusive. But it wasn’t long before impatience faded, and resignation that actually felt rather peaceful took its place.
She supposed it was because there was nothing she could do to influence the outcome of events. She needed to rejoin Kymas and participate in the final phase of their mission. It was both her duty and the only way she’d receive any measure of the credit for its successful completion. But Falrinn and Anton were the mariners, not she, and they’d catch the galley when they caught it. Meanwhile, for essentially the first time since the start of her adolescence, she had no responsibilities and no walking dead man of a teacher or superior ordering her around. Certainly, her two current companions made for pleasanter company, and she hoped she wouldn’t have to kill them when her time aboard the sailboat came to an end.
Falrinn, she thought, might well be content to accept whatever payment Kymas was willing to offer and go away. The gnome was a practical sort. Anton, however, had a reputation for recklessness, and that accorded with her own impression of him. He might well make another play for Stedd no matter what the odds against him.
She told herself that if he did, he would have only his own stubborn folly to blame for what ensued, but that didn’t make her feel any happier about the prospect. Frowning, she resolved to think about something else, and then a point of orange light appeared and disappeared in the darkness off the port bow, like a firefly that had only chosen to glow once.
But a ship’s lanterns wouldn’t blink. They’d shine steadily. Uncertain whether she’d seen something real or just a trick of the night, she leaned forward and peered intently.
For several breaths, nothing happened. She decided she had been mistaken and started to settle herself more comfortably. Then light pulsed again, but a different light, a hair-thin, crooked white line accompanied by a tiny snap like the crack of a distant whip.
Now Umara knew what she was seeing. “Come here!” she called.
Falrinn had been snoring in the shelter amidships, and Anton had been dozing beside the rudder. They both stood up and made their way into the bow.
“What do you see?” the pirate asked.
“Nothing now,” Umara asked. “But somewhere ahead of us, a wizard threw a blast of flame and followed it up with a thunderbolt.”
“I assume,” Anton said, “that Kymas Nahpret has those spells in his repertoire.”
“Yes.”
“Then we’re finally catching up with him. Good.”
Falrinn spat over the side. “He wouldn’t be throwing battle magic unless somebody else had caught up with him, too.”
Anton smiled. “Don’t tell me the Inner Sea’s cleverest smuggler is afraid of a little scrap.”
“Smuggling’s not like piracy. Pirates make trouble, smugglers avoid it. But I’ll get us close enough to see what all the fuss is about. You two keep watch.” The gnome made a minute adjustment to the headsail, then went to trim the mainsail.
Umara waited. Nothing else flickered in the blackness ahead. After a time, she said, “There truly were spells discharging. I may not be a sailor, but I know magic when I see it.”
“I’m sure you do,” Anton replied.
“So why aren’t we seeing any more of it?” Umara asked.
“It’s possible,” the reaver said, “that a fiery blast and a bolt of lightning were enough to scare off or even destroy an enemy vessel. Or that Kymas discovered it’s still out of range, and now he’s conserving his power. Or that an enemy archer shot back at him and took him out of the fight.”
“That last is doubtful,” she said.
“Why?” Anton asked.
Umara belatedly remembered she hadn’t told Anton that Kymas was a vampire. His ignorance on that particular point might hinder him if he did try to steal Stedd, and in any case, she preferred he have no reason to suspect she herself was occasionally obliged to submit to such a creature’s embrace. She didn’t want the pirate imagining her in that degraded attitude.
“If there was any danger from bowmen,” she replied, “Kymas likely would have armored himself with enchantment.”
“Ah.”
“How long, do you think, before we get close enough to know what’s really happening?”
Anton shrugged. “Obviously, I can’t know when I’m not even the one who saw the flashes, but perhaps a long while yet. Maybe not even until after daybreak.”
“If it takes that long, the fight will definitely be over.”
“Not necessarily. Ships can maneuver and chase each other around for ridiculous amounts of time before they start fighting in earnest. I’ve spent some of the most tedious days of my life just standing on a deck waiting for a battle to start.”
But Umara didn’t find the watching and waiting tedious. She strained her eyes peering, and pictured all the situations she might discover when the sailboat finally drew close enough. Surely, given Kymas’s supernatural might and the mettle of the marines in his service, the galley would prevail in a sea battle. Yet what if it didn’t?
She imagined the broken vessel sinking and carrying Stedd down with it, and the mental picture made her wince. It would be a sad, ugly way for the boy to die.
Then, scowling, she pushed the soft, foolish thought away. Stedd was fated to die no matter what. It was her task to make certain that his death was useful, to her monarch, her master, and herself.
After a while, she and Anton both spotted another wink of red-orange fire. He called out, “Two points to starboard!” Falrinn adjusted the rudder and cold rain drummed on the deck.
Sometime after that, the eastern sky started lightening, revealing massed gray thunderheads like floating mountains. Beneath them, still far apart and small with distance, Kymas’s galley and a caravel emerged from the falling sheets of rain and the gloom. Umara frowned because it appeared her master was running from that one lone ship and it was giving chase. Given equal odds, she would have expected the undead wizard to seek battle as quickly as possible, before daybreak drove him under cover.