Shifting subtly, Jherek reversed the blade, putting the point down. He stared into the orange eye, wider across than a pie plate. At the distance, he knew he wouldn't miss.
Whether the blade was long enough to reach the serpent's brain was another matter.
The finned head moved closer, tentatively. Brine-flavored breath rushed over Jherek.
"Strike now!" Meelat urged. "That thing's going to have the head from your shoulders like a grape from the vine."
"No," Jherek said.
The forked tongue flicked out at the young sailor, missing him by inches. From the periphery of his vision, he saw the ship's crew armed with bows.
Afraid the pirates would fire at the creature, Jherek slowly sheathed the big knife.
"What are you doing?" Meelat demanded.
"I'm giving us the only chance we have. It's curious- nothing more." Standing steady, Jherek faced the sea wyrm.
The forked tongue flicked again, whispering through the air beside his ear, making light popping noises. The young sailor flinched, then steadied himself again. The forked tongue brushed against his face the next time, feeling wet, tough, and leathery.
The sea wyrm drew back out of reach. Its ear fins popped forward, and its large mouth yawned open. The orange eyes glinted. It hissed, yowling as if in anger.
Arrows sped from the pirate archers. Most of them dropped into the water around the sea wyrm, but three of them bounced from the golden scales.
"Stop!" Jherek commanded.
The sea wyrm turned its attention from the young sailor to the slave ship and back again. Sunlight gleamed from its sharp teeth. It hissed at Jherek again, then dived beneath the water, swimming deep and disappearing almost immediately.
"How did you know it wouldn't attack?" Meelat asked.
Jherek shrugged and said, "I didn't."
"Sails! Sails off the stern!"
Still shaking inside, Jherek turned and gazed back behind the slave ship at the cry from the lookout in the crow's nest. There, against the curve of the ocean's northern horizon, square cut white sails interrupted the Line between smooth blue sky and green water. Judging the set of the sails, the young sailor knew the ship was headed for them.
"Where are we?"
On the other side of the gate they'd used to pass from Tarjanas belly, Laaqueel spread her webbed hands and feet, stopping her descent toward the distant ocean floor. From the deep blue color of the sea around them, the malenti priestess judged they were in Seros's gloom strata, the level of the sea between one hundred fifty and three hundred feet.
"Thuridru," Iakhovas answered without looking at her. He held a gem in his hand that glowed suddenly.
According to her studies of Seros, Thuridru was a mer-folk city along the Turmish coast. Located north of the Xedran Reefs where the ixitxachitl theocracy claimed the Six Holy Cities, Thuridru held a precarious position. Trapped near the ixitxachitl nation, Thuridru was also the sworn enemy of Voalidru, the capital city of the merfolk of Eadraal.
The city of rogue merfolk," Laaqueel said.
"What do you know of Thuridru?"
"Little," the malenti admitted.
"Nearly four hundred years ago, there was a territorial skirmish between the mermen and the ixitxachitl nations over kelp beds west of Voalidru. Five war parties from the Clan Kamaar chose to ignore the Laws of Battle that have been in effect since the end of the Ninth War of Seros and attack the ixitxachitl. As a result, Clan Kamaar was banished from Voalidru and driven out to make their homes in the abandoned caverns left by the defeated ixitxachitl." Iakhovas gazed into the distance with a satisfied look.
"What are we doing here?" Laaqueel asked, expecting to be assaulted for her impertinence.
"Ah, little malenti, your impatience truly knows no bounds."
"I would be more effective as your senior high priestess," she said, "if I knew more of what you were doing."
Iakhovas turned his malevolent gaze on her. Even the incomplete golden sphere in his empty socket gleamed. "This war is mine, and it is progressing exactly as I would have it."
"A small group of reinforcements from Vahaxtyl joined
Tarjana's crew this morning," Laaqueel hurried on, ignoring the threat in Iakhovas's voice. "I overheard them arguing among themselves and their brothers in our fleet. They say that your efforts have grown stagnant, that you no longer hold Sekolah's favor."
"You didn't champion me, or the cause I represent?"
"I wouldn't know what to tell them."
"Instruct them to believe. That's where your power lies. If you believe, they will believe."
Laaqueel let the silence between them build.
"Do not cease believing," Iakhovas warned. "That is the only worth you have to me. If you look to your heart, you know that it is the only worth you have to yourself."
"I know." Laaqueel's throat was tight when she spoke.
Without her belief, she was only a hollow shell. The voice she'd heard in her head created tremendous confusion.
"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."