Curious, Sabira bent forward to get a closer look.
“Elix, hand me your dagger.” She knew he carried one in his left boot, because she was the one who had given it to him. The length of fine Reirdran steel had been her trainer’s gift to him when he completed his first year in the Defender’s Guild.
He walked over and handed her the blade without comment. She used the tip to dislodge the jagged crystal, then she wiped it clean on one of the few spots on her shirt not already covered in blood. She held it up to the sunlight, where it gleamed with a blue-black intensity.
A Khyber dragonshard.
How in the name of the Mockery had that gotten there?
“I hate to interrupt your looting,” Elix said brusquely, “but we have a problem.”
He pointed to the starboard binding strut. The burst of sound that had collapsed the forecastle had further weakened the supports, and the elemental was fighting to free itself.
“The strut’s not going to hold much longer. And once it goes, the elemental will destroy what’s left of the ship. And us with it, if we’re still here.”
Sabira pocketed the dragonshard and handed his dagger back to him as she straightened. Then she gave him a wry grin.
“That, at least, I think I can fix.”
Armed with one of the Inheritance’s life rings and several hundred feet of rope tied off to what was left of the helm, Sabira floated down to where Irlen still waited, surrounded by even more fins now that the sharks had finished off his fellow pilot.
“So … do you want to reconsider your contract with Arach, or should I just save these poor hungry sharks some time and push you in?”
“You would do that? Really?” the half-elf asked. His tone was skeptical, but his eyes were wary. She hadn’t bothered to clean off any of the yrthak’s blood and she knew she must look like some demon out of a bard’s tale, capable of anything.
“Irlen, I think I’ve already demonstrated that there’s very little I wouldn’t do for the right people. The question is, do you want to be someone I do things for, or someone I do things to?”
Whatever else he was, the half-elf was pragmatic, and they were soon back on the badly damaged deck of the Inheritance. They gathered up two more life rings—one for Elix and Mountainheart and one for the two surviving crew members—and then Irlen used the powers of his dragonmark to call up a wind that blew the buoyant rings up toward the Dust Dancer. Behind them, a horrendous crash sounded as the binding strut gave way at last and the elemental, in a frenzy of freedom, set about destroying the ship with crackling, inhuman delight.
Once back on board Arach’s ship, Sabira knew she’d have to do some quick talking to keep Thecla from slaying them all out of hand. And, indeed, they were greeted with a wall of dwarves all aiming crossbows at them, bolts cocked and ready to loose at the slightest provocation.
“Well, Sabira, that was surprisingly entertaining,” Thecla said, stepping through the ranks and slapping his hand lightly against his hook in polite applause. “I really must thank you—my crew hasn’t enjoyed a show like that since the time they spent their entire shore leave in Sharn holed up at the Glitterdust. But the fun has to end sometime, and since you were so kind as to bring our pilot back to us, it looks like that time is now. For you, at least.”
He raised his hand to signal his men to fire, but Sabira stopped him with an amused chuckle.
“I really don’t think you want to do that.”
One of the dwarf’s eyebrows quirked up curiously.
“And why would that be, pray tell?”
“Because this dwarf here is Arach’s nephew—another Aurum member, as I’m sure you can see from the rings. Arach didn’t trust you to get his shipment to Sharn intact,” she placed special emphasis on the word, “so he hired me to keep an eye on you, and ordered his nephew, here, to follow you, as insurance. Of course, you fouled that up by getting a late start out of Stormreach, but that pales in comparison to the mistake you’ll be making if you kill Arach’s own flesh and blood. Which is exactly what you’ll be doing if you don’t start pouring some of those healing potions you were bragging about down his throat pretty damned quickly.”
Thecla scoffed.
“Arach doesn’t have a nephew,” he said dismissively.
“He does since Orin, here, married his niece, Adora d’Kundarak. You can see the beads in his beard as plainly as I can, and I know you know how to read them.”
It was a stretch, but a believable one. Thecla himself had given her the idea when he talked about the Glitterdust Nightclub. Adora was a well-known dancer there, and the last time Sabira had seen her show, the dwarf woman had worn red and purple veils, the colors Arach so obviously favored. Coupled with the name of the ship, it wasn’t too hard to figure that the two had a connection of some sort. Sabira doubted Thecla knew what it was any more than she did, which only worked in her favor.
Thecla hesitated, but didn’t appear entirely convinced. It was time to play her hole card and hope to all the Host that she’d guessed right.
“Why do you suppose Arach hired a new crew member for this particular run? And for a paltry five dragons?”
The first mate’s face drew into a frown and Sabira knew she was losing him.
“Five dragons is a more than fair price for transporting dragonshards. And as delightful as your little run as ship’s bard has been, I’m afraid it’s time—”
“We both know it’s not the dragonshards I was hired to protect.” With that, she pivoted and brought the blade of her urgrosh down on the defective life ring she’d borrowed from the Dust Dancer. The soarwood circle broke in two, revealing a heavy lead inner ring that was itself hollowed out to hold an iridescent crystallized powder. The glittering particles poured out onto the deck amid several surprised gasps.
Sabira had suspected from the beginning that the Dust Dancer was carrying something more valuable than dragonshards. The shards and their accompanying guards were a ploy designed to keep any would-be pirates from finding the airship’s true cargo, which Arach had cleverly hidden in plain sight, inside the one thing that the crew would be sure to save in the event that something happened to the Dust Dancer—her life rings. Sabira had begun to wonder when the ring sank so much faster than it should have, as if it were weighted down by far more than just a small woman and a lithe half-elf. But she hadn’t known for sure until she saw the powder spilling out of the ruined wooden circle.
Crystallized essence of dreamlily was a new, far more potent form of the drug and was worth a literal fortune. The small amount that had trickled out onto the deck was probably worth what she owed Mountainheart and all her other creditors combined.
“Oh, dear,” she said, feigning concern to cover her relief. “Arach’s not going to be too happy that I had to do that. But don’t worry, Thecla. I’m sure he’ll take the difference out of your pay and not out of your hide.”
She paused dramatically, then added, “Well, reasonably sure.”
“Ears, get that cleaned up! And don’t spill a single speck of it or I’ll let Hotch eat a couple of your fingers this time!” Thecla turned his thunderous gaze on her.
“So what’s to stop me from killing you all and telling Arach that his nephew’s ship was sadly lost at sea and that you had an unfortunate but unpreventable accident?”
Sabira shrugged.
“Nothing, I suppose. Except for the fact that Orin contacted Arach before the Inheritance went down and let him know he was coming aboard the Dust Dancer. And Arach told him that he wanted the Dancer to change course and head for a different port. So, go ahead and kill us. It’s nothing compared to what Arach’s going to do to you when his ship doesn’t show up at the right place.”