"I'm aware of the surviving princes' efforts to undermine my control," Iakhovas said. "Just as I'm aware that the numbers of We Who Eat coming from the Alamber Sea are not as great as I expected after I shattered the Sharks-bane Wall. I also know the Great Whale Bard has drawn a small army of his own to sing a barrier against the passage of more sahuagin."
"Only a few of them fight the magic of the songs," Laaqueel said.
"It will be dealt with, little malenti. In due time." Iakhovas grinned. "For now I conserve my strength and mask my presence. The high mages and the Taleweaver have learned about me. Perhaps they've learned more than they should have-but we will see. Despite everything they have heard, I am more powerful than they can ever possibly imagine."
Laaqueel dropped her gaze from his. Everything he said made sense, and it shamed her that she couldn't see it for herself. She loathed the insecurity that trilled within her, hated the way it took her straight back to the young malenti who knew only fear.
"For now," Iakhovas said, "we must gather our forces. Clan Kamaar will prove providential."
XIII
16 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet
Jherek stood on the bobbing husk that remained of Black Champion and stared at the approaching ship.
"That's a Cormyrean Freesail from the cut of her," Meelat commented.
The privateers sanctioned by the kingdom of Cormyr were tall-masted brigantines crewed by hard men who took their prizes from the pirates they defeated. Most of the Freesails stayed around Suzail and Marsember, with a few others placed around smaller ports, but some of them took charters as trading vessels.
"She's seen us," Meelat said. "We're showing no colors and tied up as we are to this floundering ship, she'll be coming to investigate."
Jherek called to the rest of the salvage crew. The men climbed off Black Champion's corpse and into longboats with the last of their salvaged timber.
At Swamp Rose's side, Jherek and his crew shoved the planks into the waiting net, then held onto the net's sides as it was hauled up. The boom arm swung over amidships, cascading water across the tilted deck. The young sailor dropped to the deck and trotted back to the stern castle to join Azla.
The pirate captain stood with a spyglass in the ship's bow. "She's coming toward us. What was that thing in the water?"
"Meelat said it was a sea wyrm."
"I thought you were a dead man."
Jherek looked at the approaching ship, noting the ballistae and the number of men apparent on the decks. "She's rigged for war."
"King Azoun may see the release of the sahuagin from behind the Sharksbane Wall as a chance to further his own empire building. I wouldn't put it past Azoun to give the Freesails orders to bring in any suspect ships so they can be pressed into service." At the bottom of the stern castle stairs, Azla strode across the deck. "Tomas," she said, "your axe."
The pirate tossed the single-bitted axe through the air and Azla caught it easily. Pirates emptied the net attached to the boom arm, stacking the salvaged lumber. The ship's mages had magically straightened warped timbers and planks as they'd been recovered.
"All hands on deck," Azla roared.
The command was relayed instantly in loud bellows by the first mate. Men scrambled to the deck.
"Put some sail up on that mast," she said. "I want to be making some kind of speed by the time those Cormyrean dogs get here, and one mast'll have to do."
The pirates mustered out smartly, their ranks actually overfull from taking on men who were slaves only a few days ago.
Azla looked out at where Black Champion rolled, nearly submerged beneath the waves. "Umberlee take me for a sentimental fool," she whispered. A tear shone in her eye.
Jherek felt the woman's pain. Azla had lived aboard her ship for years. Since she was rarely on land, the young sailor realized that everything she'd cared about was on that ship.
Abruptly, Azla raised the axe and brought it down again and again, severing the ropes that held the shipwreck to Swamp Rose. As the ropes separated, the slave ship righted itself and Black Champion drifted further beneath the waves.
Glancing back at the deck, Jherek saw that several of the pirates held their hats in their hands. They'd shed blood aboard that vessel, dreamed quiet dreams, ridden out harsh storms, and learned to become one.
"Don't stand there like a bunch of heartbroken saps," Azla bellowed. "Pay your respects to the lady and move on. We may be fighting for our lives in a few minutes."
She flipped the axe back to the man who'd loaned it to her.
"Begging the cap'n's pardon," a pirate spoke up, "but we ain't got a name for this ship. Unless you want to keep calling her Swamp Rose."
"Boatswain," Azla barked, "fetch me a bottle of ale."
When the man hurried back, Azla took the bottle. By then the sails on the surviving mast had latched talons into the wind. The riggings creaked steadily in protest as the ship got underway. The half-elf pirate captain climbed to the top of the forecastle stairs and turned toward her crew.
"The brine took Black Champion, but before she went, she helped us win this ship. I'll give this lady a name, but it's up to you to pay the steel and blood it will take to make brave men fear the sound of it, and cowards run from her shadow."
She smashed the bottle against the railing, spewing broken shards and foaming ale over the deck.
"All right," Azla said, "you lump-eared, misbegotten excuses for proper pirates, I give you Azure Dagger. Long may she sail!"
Thunderous approval roared up from amidships. Standing there, Jherek felt proud. He turned his gaze to Azure Dagger's stern and watched as the Cormyrean Freesail skimmed the water like a bird of prey.
"This is taking far too long." Pacys grumbled.
He swam at Taranath Reefglamor's side. The Senior High Mage inspected the caravan that assembled in Sylkiir the day after the Sharksbane Wall fell. Below them, in a small valley behind a sheltering ridge of rock and kelp, the sea elves finished packing supplies onto flat sleds. The sleds were being pulled by narwhals and sea turtles on the journey to Myth Nantar.
The High Mage stopped and floated forty feet above the ocean floor. The incandescence from the sun lit the waters blue.
"Taleweaver," the Senior High Mage stated softly, though not with patience, "this journey will take as long as it will take. If we rush, we risk.''
"Senior, I know. Truly I do." Pacys searched for the words to explain the anxiety that filled him. "The music fills me and drives me on," he said, "and I can't help feeling that we're progressing too slowly."
"And if we should fail after we've been given this chance?" Reefglamor eyed the old bard directly. "Who would be left to take up arms in this pursuit?"
"I don't know," Pacys admitted.
Coronal Semphyr, who commanded Aluwand, and Coronal Cormal Ytham, who commanded Sylkiir, both stood against any involvement in Myth Nantar.
Reefglamor clasped Pacys's shoulder tightly in his grip and said, "To most of my people, Myth Nantar is a corpse, better off left entombed by the mythal that surrounds it."
"But the Taker is headed there," the bard reminded him.
"And if you're wrong?" the sea elf asked. "If I and the other mages have left our cities, our people, undefended against the Taker?"
"If you could but feel the power of the songs that fill my heart near to bursting, you would know that what we do is the right thing."
"My friend," Reefglamor said, "I do believe you. That's the only reason we are here now. But even as I believe in you, you must believe in me. We must not just begin this journey, we must finish it as well."
One of the lesser mages swam to a stop nearby and waited patiently. Reefglamor excused himself and swam over to the woman.