Queen of the Depths

CHAPTER 3

When she’d set sail, Shark’s Bliss had been a sleek, handsome, two-masted caravel. As Anton considered her now, he supposed she was still handsome, but it was harder to see. The primary impression was one of calamity. The ship wallowed low in the waves, as if she were sinking. The sails hung in tatters.

The crippled state of the vessel made the pirates grumble. Just as tense, Captain Clayhill stood beside Anton on the aft castle gazing out over the heaving, gray-green expanse of the sea. Her fingers with their gleaming rings kneaded the rail. Even on the brink of battle, she still wore a frilly, impractical gown, like a lady attending a banquet or ball.

“Where is she?” the captain asked.

“She’ll be back soon,” said Anton, hoping it was so. Tu’ala’keth could take care of herself, and was inconspicuous when she swam primarily beneath the sea. Yet even so, it was chancy to go looking for a Red Wizard’s vessel. She couldn’t know what enchantments he had in place to detect sentient creatures, or spellcasting, in his vicinity.

Finally Durth, the ore in the crow’s next, called, “I see her!” In another moment, Anton did, too, as she parted company with her seahorse and swam to the ship. He tossed the rope ladder over the side, and blue skin and black fin wet and gleaming, the shalarin climbed upward with a facility that demonstrated she’d finally mastered the knack of moving nimbly even out of the water.

“Did you find them?” Captain Clayhill asked.

“Yes,” said Tu’ala’keth. She adjusted the strap securing her tinted goggles to her head. “I spoke to the wind and current, and they shifted their courses. As a result, the Thayans will come close enough to sight us.”

“Good.” The captain turned and shouted down the length of the ship: “It’s time! Go below if you’re supposed to. If you’re staying on deck, look tired, thirsty, and helpless. If you’re carrying a weapon bigger than a knife, get rid of it.”

“Prejudice against ores, that’s what this is,” Harl said. All the members of his warlike race had to hide in the cramped, half-flooded hold. Otherwise, the Bliss wouldn’t look as they needed her to look. He gave Anton a wink and headed for the companionway.

Kassur and Chadrezzan had to go below as well, but did so with an ill grace. Tu’ala’keth dived back over the side to conceal herself beneath the waves.

Then, once again, there was nothing to do but wait. Anton had spent much of his life on one ship or another, and knew how long it took for two vessels to rendezvous on the open sea. Still time crawled.

At last, squinting, he glimpsed the Thayan caravel, a speck far to the northeast. He was sure the Thayans’ lookout had spotted Shark’s Bliss as well. But would they change course to meet her?

He thought so. She flew the flag of Aglarond, Thay’s bitter enemy, and looked defenseless. Were Anton a Red Wizard, he’d certainly take the time to plunder the foundering ship, capture those on board to ransom or enslave, and salvage the vessel itself if possible. It was too juicy an opportunity to pass up.

Yet he sweated until he could tell the Thayans had in fact turned southwest.

He supposed he still had reason to be anxious. The Thayans could conceivably maintain a certain distance and batter Shark’s Bliss with magic, volleys of arrows, and bolts from their ballista. If they did, the pirate vessel, unable to maneuver or run, had no hope of surviving. His ruse had seen to that.

But the Thayans wouldn’t take that tack, not if convinced they had nothing to fear. Such a barrage could only diminish the value of their prize.

The Thayan caravel was larger than the Bliss. Her hull, sails, and streaming banners were all varying shades of crimson, and she maneuvered so smartly that enchantment was surely involved.

“Prepare to be boarded!” someone shouted. Grappling hooks flew, and crunched into the pirate vessel’s timbers. The Thayans heaved on the lines, drawing the ships together. With Shark’s Bliss riding low in the water, the red caravel’s deck was a few feet higher, but even so, it would be possible to clamber from one to the other. t

The Thayans proceeded to do so. Clad in leather armor and armed with javelins, boarding pikes, and short swords, the shouting warriors herded their new prisoners into a single clump. Anton tried to look scared and submissive while studying the newcomers. He needed to identify the spellcasters.

He could see only one magician, a short, tubby Red Wizard with a rosy-cheeked, incongruously jolly face. Like all members of his fraternity, the Thayan had shaved every hair from his head, eyebrows included. Vermilion tattooing showed on his neck and wrists. He was likely marked over much of his body, but the scarlet robe hid most of it.

It was lucky the Thayans had only one warlock, and that he’d elected to come aboard Shark’s Bliss, where his foes could reach him more easily. Armed with a spiked ball and chain, clad in flame-yellow vestments, a priest of Kossuth the Firelord still stood in the forecastle of the crimson ship. He could be trouble.

“Now then,” said the Red Wizard in a cheerful tenor voice, “who’s the skipper of this unfortunate vessel?”

“I am,” Shandri Clayhill said.

The Thayan’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Are you indeed? How charming. May I ask, how did the ship come to grief?”

“A squall. Look, I have coin and land back in Vel-printalar. I can reward you for rescuing us.”

The Red Wizard chuckled and fingered one of the gold-and-diamond necklaces dangling on her bosom. “You already have rewarded me, dear girl, and will again later, more intimately. If you’re enthusiastic, perhaps you can avoid”

Still bound together, the two ships fell.

As planned, Tu’ala’keth had cast a spell to scoop the water from beneath their hulls. They dropped several feet, down a hole in the gray-green sea. Everyone slammed down hard when the vessels hit bottom, but at least the pirates had known what to expect, whereas the sudden plummet caught the Thayans entirely by surprise. Some surely suffered sprains and broken bones. All looked stupid with astonishment.

The spell effect ended as abruptly as it began. Saltwater crashed across the deck, engulfing everything, and Anton was suddenly afraid they’d remain submerged, that they lacked the buoyancy to rise. But then they bobbed up into air and sunlight.

Screaming crazily, pirates erupted from every hatch that led down into the hold. Despite their lack of weapons, the freebooters who’d remained on deck also sprang at the stunned and disoriented Thayans.

Anton looked for the Red Wizard. Though the reavers currently had the advantage, a powerful mage might alter that with a single spell. But not if he was denied the time to cast it.

There! The plump wizard had placed his back to the rail, and some of his bodyguards had positioned themselves in front of him. The man in red intoned a chant as sonorous as a dirge and swept his hands in slow passes. Cool, whispering gloom drifted across the deck, as if the sun had passed behind a cloud.

Anton knew he’d never fight his way through the bodyguards in time to stop the spell, but fortunately, that wasn’t his only option. Another Thayanswept overboard or killed by a pirate, the spy neither knew nor caredhad dropped his javelin on the deck. Anton snatched it up and threw it.

It was a difficult throw because the spear had to pass between two of the guards to reach its mark, but he managed it. The point drove deep into the Red

Wizard’s chest. Looking bewildered, he stumbled backward to slam into the rail. It cracked in two, and he tumbled into the sea. Sunlight scoured the shadow from the air.

Anton instantly pivoted to find the priest of Kossuth. Curse it! Nobody else had neutralized the divine, and he was conjuring, too, bellowing and swinging his chain weapon over his head. The spiked ball at the end had ignited and left an arc of flame behind it like a tame shooting star.

Anton would never reach the brazier, as such folk were called, in time to stop him. He peered about for another missile, even a makeshift one, but nothing came to hand. He wondered just how horrific the fire magic was going to be.

Then the brazier lurched forward, and blood gushed from his mouth. His knees buckled, and when he collapsed, he revealed Tu’ala’keth standing behind him. She yanked her stone trident from his back and raised it in salutation.

Anton grinned and nodded back. Then they each turned to find another foe.

The fight lasted only another minute before the Thayans started throwing down their arms. They were able warriors, but without leadership or magic of their own, they couldn’t stand up to the pirates’ fury or the flares of flame, lightning, and withering darkness with which Kassur and Chadrezzan assailed them.

The freebooters cheered, and Anton smiled and shook his head. All things considered, the first phase had gone easier than expected.

Tu’ala’keth declaimed the sacred words and with the aid of her helpers, shoved the surviving Thayans over the side, one at a time. Some of the naked prisoners merely wept or advanced to the sacrifice as if sleepwalking. Others begged for mercy, screamed curses, or struggled to break free of their captors’ grips.

Their resistance didn’t bother her. It was appropriate that the sacrifice should fight to survive if it could. Umberlee even spared a few of them, as she’d spared Anton. What vexed Tu’ala’keth was the attitude of many of the pirates, who mocked and jeered at the doomed Thayans, behaving as if the ritual was an entertainment.

“Silence!” she cried at last. The spectators gaped in surprise. “This is a holy occasion. Do you wish to anger Umberlee, who gave you victory? She is quick to anger, I assure you. You can easily turn her against you.”

“Glory to the Bitch Queen,” said Harl. The ore was one of the pirates who’d volunteered to assist in the rite. Other freebooters repeated the phrase in a ragged chorus.

The deference pleased Tu’ala’kethuntil she thought to contrast it with the apostasy of her own people. Then it took an effort of will for her to maintain a worshipful frame of mind until the conclusion of the ceremony.

After that, she turned her attention to the hold. Her magic could help the squeaking, gurgling hand pumps draw the water out. But before she could begin the prayer, a joyous whoop aboard the red caravel snagged her attention.

“Look at this!” called Durth. He threw back the lid of a brass-bound leather chest and lifted out a fistful of pewter vials, displaying them for all to see. No doubt they contained magical elixirs. A second box yielded gleaming, finely crafted broadswords and rapiers, surely bearing enchantments bound in the steel.

“The hold ith full of magic!” Sealmid cried. Everyone cheered, and when the clamor subsided,

Kassur and Chadrezzan were standing with Durth, Sealmid, and the other folk who’d gone to explore the Thayan vessel. Tu’ala’keth blinked, for she hadn’t seen the Talassans make their approach. All at once, they were simply there, at the center of attention.

“It is a rich prize,” said Kassur. Tu’ala’keth had yet to hear Chadrezzan utter a word. Either he truly was a mute or he’d sworn a vow of silence. “I say we take it back to Dragon Isle and enjoy it.”

“As I recall,” said Anton, “we’ve only completed the first part of our plan. Stripped to the waist, a rope in hand, he stood at the base of the Boss’s aft mast, where he’d been helping to replace the tattered sails with serviceable ones. “We have the talismans that were going to Saerloon, but not the gold the Thayans expect to send home. I say we steal everything.”

“That’s foolish,” the man with the eye patch answered. “We were lucky once. Our prize had only one Red Wizard and a single priest aboard, and we caught them by surprise.”

“As we expect,” Anton said, “to take their counterparts in Saerloon by surprise.”

“That may not happen,” Kassur said. “Even if it does, I guarantee you, we’ll find several Red Wizards on hand, some far advanced in the mysteries of their craft. We’ll find defenses in place, and whatever the shalarin claims, I doubt her scrying discovered all of them. It isn’t worth the risk. Let’s pass the dice while Lady Luck’s still smiling.”

Tu’ala’keth understood what was truly in the Talassan’s mind. He still coveted her position for himself, and Anton’s rank for Chadrezzan. He wanted the crew of Shark’s Bliss to sacrifice primarily to Talos, not Umberlee. But none of that would come to pass so long as she and the Turmian kept guiding their comrades to notable victories. Thus, the storm priest counseled turning back not because he expected the raid on Saerloon to fail, but because he feared it might succeed.

“Are you scared?” Anton asked him.

“If so,” said Tu’ala’keth, “how dare you wear the Destroyer’s vestments? Does he not command his followers to be fierce and bold?”

Kassur hesitated. He evidently hadn’t expected anyone to accuse him of being lax in the observance of his own savage creed. Perceiving that he didn’t know how to respond, the pirates muttered to one another.

“Talos doesn’t command us to seek our own destruction!” Kassur managed at last. “He tells us to destroy our enemies!”

“Then let’s destroy them,” Anton said.

Tu’ala’keth turned to the aft castle, where Captain Clayhill had positioned herself to watch the sacrifice and supervise the ongoing repairs. Some of her jewelry still glittered dazzling bright in the sunlight. Other pieces were dull with spatters of Thayan gore.

“You began this voyage with courage and faith,” said Tu’ala’keth. “I urge you to continue in the same spirit.”

“If you want to come home with as grand a haul as any pirate’s ever stolen,” Anton said, “and a tale people will tell not just for a tenday or two, but for the rest of our lives.”

Harl laughed. “That sounds good to me, Captain. Especially the part about the loot.”

Shandri Clayhill drew a deep breath then gave a nod. “So be it. We sail to Saerloon, and may the gods pity any Thayan bastard who wanders within reach of our blades.”

The reavers cheered. Kassur and Chadrezzan glared at Anton and Tu’ala’keth with balked, bitter anger in their eyes.

Even late at night, Saerloon was a bustling port, and the land adjacent to the water was accordingly too valuable for any of it to go waste. Still, as Anton surveyed the Thayan compound at the northern end of the harbor, it seemed to him that it stood a little apart from its neighbors, as if shunned. Maybe it was just his imagination.

Or maybe it wasn’t. Everybody hated Thayans, and rightfully so. The whoresons wanted to conquer all of Faerun. People being people, though, they tolerated the Red Wizards and their minions because they sold magic cheaply. They bought it even though the coin went back to Thay to finance the zulkirs’ schemes to undermine and ultimately subjugate their neighbors.

But the coin these particular Thayans were sitting on would not be going back to Thay. If Anton had his way, it was bound for Dragon Isle.

The scarlet caravel glided toward to the dock. Clad in the armor and clothing of the former crew, most of the pirates were aboard. They’d left a few hands on Shark’s Bliss, the minimum required to see her safely home.

Harl turned the helm a notch. “If we haven’t fooled them,” he said, “I guess we’ll find out when the thunderbolts start flying.”

“We flashed the proper signal with the lantern,” Anton said. Of course, that was only if the Thayans hadn’t changed the code and if the information he’d picked up in a thieves’ den in Selgaunt had been accurate to begin with. “This is the caravel they’re expecting. The dark should keep them from seeing the ship is crawling with ores.” He shrugged. “I’m optimistic.”

Harl snorted. “‘Crawling with ores.’ Nice talk.” A breeze wafted the stink of a great city in their direction, a smell compounded of garbage and smoke.

The caravel glided closer to the dock, where a pair of bald, robed Red Wizards and their bodyguards waited to greet her, and workers scurried about lighting torches to facilitate the process of mooring and unloading her. The flickering yellow illumination revealed the hulking statue at the water’s edge. Twice as tall as a man, it was nearly as wide as it was high, with enormous clenched fists and a face that was all snarling mouth and a single glaring eye.

Anton studied the Thayans. As best he could judgethe night hampered his vision, toonone of them looked alarmed or even particularly wary. It wasn’t until the pirates started tossing lines to the dockhands that one of the latter abruptly goggled in shock. Maybe he’d noticed the flat-nosed countenance of an ore or Tu’ala’keth’s narrow inhuman features and black dorsal fin.

Given a chance, the dockhand surely would have cried a warning. But Tu’ala’keth, in the stern castle, and Kassur, in the forward one, each cast the same spell, and all the ambient soundsthe creak of ropes and timbers, the splash and hiss of the water, the conversation on the dock, and the muddled drone of the city beyondcut off abruptly, supplanted by utter silence.

Weapons in hand, the first pirates sprang from the caravel to the dock like a wave sweeping onto the shore. In so doing, they slammed some of the Thayans off the platform into the water, and perhaps those were the lucky ones. They might survive if they could swim away.

A warrior thrust his spear at Anton. The spy parriedthanks to the magic bound in the massive cutlass, the quick, precise defensive action was easy enoughand hacked open the Thayan’s belly. The soldier reeled and toppled off the pier.

Anton pivoted, seeking the Red Wizards. He had no doubt the magicians were still dangerous, even bereft of the ability to recite incantations. Some spells, and a good many sorcerous weapons, didn’t require the wielder to jabber words of power.

At first he couldn’t tell anything. The pier was too narrow. The combatants were jammed together, obscuring the view. Then he caught a glimpse of a Red Wizard leveling a wand. Captain Clayhill slashed his neck with a boarding pike. Half severed, his head flopped back on his shoulders, blood spurted, and the arcane weapon dropped from his twitching fingers.

Good, one down, but where was the other? There! Anton pushed toward him. Before he could reach him, though, the Red Wizard brushed back his voluminous sleeve and ran his fingertip down the curved length of a tattooed sigil. He vanished in a flash of light and reappeared beside the monstrous statue. His mouth worked as he screamed the command that would bring it to life then snarled in frustration as he realized the zone of silence enshrouded the image, too.

He still needed killing, however, as soon as possible. Anton looked for a way past the frenzied fighters blocking his path, but it was hopeless. He snatched a sling from his belt, loaded it with a lead bulletand the Red Wizard stroked his tattooed forearm. Once again, he disappeared.

His departure left Anton with nothing to do but slaughter his share of the remaining Thayans as rapidly as he could. To his relief, he and his comrades needed only a few more heartbeats to clear the pier. Afterward, he grabbed Captain Clayhill by the arm and dragged her onto dry land, beyond the statue. The hum of the city popped back into his ears.

“One of the Red Wizards got away,” Anton panted. “He’ll warn the others. We have to keep moving.” Every moment they delayed gave warriors time to wake, grab their weapons, assemble into squads, and take up defensive positions. Every second was another chance for a wizard or priest to weave a spell.

“I know,” the captain said. She beckoned urgently, yelling curses even though she must have known her crew couldn’t hear her, and the pirates came scrambling onto the shore. She barked a few orders, and they charged up the slope toward the buildings ahead, dividing into teams as they went to envelop the entire complex quickly.

Anton and his companions smashed open doors and killed whomever they found beyond. Some of the pirates tried to linger and search for loot, but he bellowed at them to stay with the squad.

In the center of a small garden with gravel paths, a marble fountain abruptly emitted an eye-watering stink. “Run!” he cried, an instant before the marble basin spewed acid like a geyser. Most of the freebooters reacted quickly enough to avoid all but the diffuse, merely blistering fringe of the discharge. But one man toppled, clothing and skin dissolving. His body was covered in bubbling, sizzling burns, and his eyes melted in their sockets.

A wisp of spider web enlarged without warning, snaring the men it engulfed in sticky cable. The arachnid at the center grew as well and, when it was as big as a cat, scuttled to bite the first of its prisoners. Straining, Anton managed to slip the cutlass through some of the mesh restraining him, and the preternaturally keen edge severed the gluey strands. He slashed himself free, cut once more, and split the spider’s eight-eyed mask just as it started to pounce at him.

It was all grueling, frantic, desperate work, and from a certain perspective, it was all inconsequential. Where were the rest of the enemy spellcasters? They were the chief threat, the adversaries the pirates truly needed to confront.

They reached the end of the lane running between two rows of low sheds and buildings, peeked out into the open space beyond, and at last Anton saw the Red Wizards.

The surviving Thayans were making a stand in a two-story limestone building like a small but well-fortified manor house. Soldiers shot crossbow bolts through arrow loops or, kneeling, from behind the battlements on the slate roof. The magicians lurked behind windows, popping into view just long enough to hurl bursts of fire and hammering hailstones at the corsairs laying siege to the place then ducking back out of sight.

The quarrels and flares of magic were taking a toll on the pirates. It was obvious they needed to break into the house and fight the Thayans at close quarters. But it was difficult when their enemies concentrated their attacks on anyone who sought to approach. Even when some daring soul did reach the side of the house, he found it impossible to kick in a door or pry open a shutter. Some charm evidently prevented it.

Tu’ala’keth, Kassur, and a couple of others had taken cover behind a big, forked-trunk tree at one corner of the battlefield. Chadrezzan wasn’t with them, though. Apparently, like Anton himself, he was late reaching the heart of the battle.

The priest and priestess of Fury chanted and swept their arms in mystic passes to no particular effect, as far as Anton could tell. Either they were attempting something subtle, or the enemy spellcasters were neutralizing their efforts.

Perhaps he and Tu’ala’keth together could think of an effective tactic. Crouching low, he ran toward her and the others, and the air ahead of him crackled and burned blue.

The shining haze coalesced into a trio of dark, long-legged creatures with streaming tails and manes. For an instant, Anton wondered if the Red Wizards had wasted a summoning spell on something as mundane and relatively harmless as horses. Then he noticed the pale, curved horns and glowing crimson eyes. The beasts were black unicorns, corrupted with a taint of demon blood, a prime example of the many abominations bred in Thay.

Plainly heeding an order to kill the clerics, the unicorns charged the group behind the tree. Anton sprinted after them, but wasn’t exceptionally concerned. Black unicorns were dangerous foes, but Tu’ala’keth’s magic, and Kassur’s, should suffice to fend the creatures off.

Then, however, wind howled. Anton could barely feel the disturbance in the air where he was, but it staggered the pirates behind the forked tree and ripped leaves spinning upward off the branches. Tu’ala’keth’s goggles jerked off her head and hurtled into the air as well.

It shouldn’t have mattered. The sunlight of the surface world couldn’t blind her in the middle of the night. But in the same instant the whirlwind died, as abruptly as it began, her face lit up like an ember fresh from a blazing fire. She pawed at her features as if she could wipe the glow away, but to no avail.

The black unicorns thundered nearer.

Help her! Anton thought. But as Kassur, brandishing his flickering spear, started to conjure, he backed away from her. No doubt he wanted to ensure that the defense he meant to create would shield only himself.

Tu’ala’keth must have mastered her panic, must have heard her attacker’s pounding approach, for at the last instant, she tried to spring out of the way. Even so, the black unicorn’s horn gored her side, spun her, and dropped her to the ground. The creature turned and reared to pulp her beneath its battering hooves.

Still Kassur made no attempt to aid her. It was Harl who rushed in, scimitar raised, interposing himself between the unicorn and its intended prey. He started to strike a blow, but the creature was faster, and the ore dropped with his head bashed to gory, lopsided ruin.

At least he’d distracted the unicorn long enough for Anton to close with it. He hoped to take the beast from behind and cut a leg out from under it before it knew he was there, but it must have heard or smelled him coming because it whirled to meet him.

He cut; gashed the equine’s flank; then twisted to the right when the pale, whorled horn drove at him. That put him in position for a chop at the unicorn’s neck, and he raised the cutlass to try. The beast’s horn suddenly glowed like crystal filled with tainted moonlight. It whipped its head sideways and bashed him in the chest with the luminous spike.

But it didn’t hit with the point, just the side of the shaft. It should have been a solid, bruising clout, but nothing worse. Alas, the supernatural force the unicorn had invoked amplified the power of the blow. It knocked Anton into the air and threw him several feet. He slammed down hard.

His chest burned, and he felt as if he couldn’t draw a breath. He had no idea how badly the attack had wounded him and had no time to worry about it either. The unicorn sprang after him and reared to hammer him with its hooves.

Anton tried to roll out of the way. For an instant that seemed to stretch out endlessly, he thought his abused body wouldn’t answer to his will, but then he broke through the paralysis that came with shock and flung himself to the side. The unicorn’s hooves slammed down mere inches away, pounding dents into the ground and flinging up bits of dirt.

He had to roll again before he could attempt to scramble to his feet. He was still straightening up when the black unicorn leaped at him, crimson eyes blazing, horn shining with another infusion of malefic power.

He needed another moment to settle into a balanced fighting stance, but he didn’t have it. He’d simply have to manage as best he could. He tried to sidestep and cut at the same time.

The unicorn crashed into him. Flung him reeling backward and down on the ground. He was sure he’d taken a mortal wound, but when he ran his hand over his torso, he couldn’t find a puncture. Some part of the beast’s body had struck him, but he’d dodged the horn.

Something screamed an inhuman scream. Anton forced himself to sit up and look around. His foe lay on its side several feet away, the cutlass buried in the base of its neck. It gave a final cry, and its head thudded down onto the ground. Blood oozed from its mouth and nostrils.

Anton smiled then glimpsed a surge of motion from the corner of his eye. He turned his head, and another black unicorn charged him.

Tu’ala’keth’s steely contralto voice cried words of power. The grass beneath the unicorn’s hooves grew long and whipped around its lower legs. The beast’s momentum kept it plunging forward anyway. Bones snapped, and it crashed to the ground to shriek until the shalarin drove her stone trident between its ribs.

She then hobbled to Anton. The blinding luminescence on her face had disappearedshe’d probably extinguished it with a counterspellbut blood poured from the rent in her side.

“Are you badly hurt?” she asked.

“I’ve been knocked around,” he said, “and taken a little jolt of magical virulence, but I can still fight.

You’re the one who’s really wounded. Fix it before you bleed to death.”

“Yes, now that I have time.” She declaimed a prayer and pressed her hand against the gaping cut. Her webbed fingers glowed blue-green, and the gash closed. Meanwhile, Anton yanked his cutlass from the first unicorn’s carcass and looked to see what else was happening.

Kassur and Chadrezzan stood near the body of the third unicorn, which burned as if someone had dipped it in oil and set a torch to it. Sour-faced, the Talassans were glaring at him and Tu’ala’keth, but they turned away as soon as they noticed him looking back.

Anton realized it hadn’t been a Red Wizard who’d blinded Tu’ala’keth. It had been Chadrezzan, hiding in the shadows.

The knowledge infuriated him, but retribution would have to wait. The attack was faltering. The pirates were game, fighting hard, but as long as the Thayans’ bastion remained unable to be breached, they held an insurmountable advantage.

He turned to Tu’ala’keth. “Are you fit to keep fighting?” he asked.

She sneered. “Of course. Umberlee’s power sustains me, just as it does you.”

“Right. How could I forget? Look, I need to get to the side of the house to try my charm of opening.”

The glimmering membrane flicked across her obsidian eyes. “Do you think it will overcome the enchantment the Red Wizards used to seal the place?”

“It untied your magic tether, didn’t it? I’m lucky with that particular spell. But maybe not lucky enough to run across the clear space without taking a few quarrels in the vitals, or a lightning bolt up the arse.”

“I will shield you.” She raised the bloody trident over her head and chanted words in her own tongue. A grayness thickened in the air. In a moment, most of the world vanished beneath a blanket of mist. The vapor smelled of the sea.

“The enemy will banish the fog quickly,” said Tu’ala’keth. “We must run.”

“Wait! I’ve lost track of where the doors and windows are.”

“I remember.” She gripped his hand. “Come on.”

They rushed the house. A quarrel whizzed down out of the fog and past his head. Evidently some of the Thayan warriors were shooting blind.

But that was the only missile that came anywhere near him, and the facade of the enemy fortress swam out of the murk. As Tu’ala’keth had promised, she’d led him straight to a door.

Just as they reached it, though, a pulse of magic that made his head throb scoured the fog from the air. They pressed themselves against the side of the house to make it awkward for anyone inside or on top to target them, and he began the spell. Knowing he had sufficient power to attempt it only a couple of times, and that the articulation needed to be perfect to overcome Thayan wizardry, he resisted the urge to hurry, even when quarrels thumped into the ground behind him.

As he reached the final word, silvery sparks danced on the surface of the heavy four-paneled door. He tried to twist the wrought-iron handle. It wouldn’t budge, nor would the door shiver even minutely in its frame. It seemed of a piece with the wall around it.

Footsteps shuffled overhead, and Tu’ala’keth rattled off a prayer. Anton glanced up just as the warriors on the roof overturned a cauldron. Boiling water poured down, but the stream divided as it dropped. It splashed, steamed, hissed all around him and the shalarin, but left them untouched.

“Next time,” said Tu’ala’keth, “they will drop something besides boiling water. I will find that more difficult to deflect.”

“Point taken.” He resumed his conjuring.

In response, the entire surface of the door glowed silver. He twisted the handle, and the latch released. He and Tu’ala’keth scrambled inside, and blazing coals rained, thumping and rattling down on the spot they’d just vacated.

Anton cast about for defenders waiting just inside the entry. Feet were pounding above his head, but as yet, no one had appeared to bar the way. He turned and bellowed to the pirates: “Come on! Come on! We’ve got a way in!”

The freebooters dashed forward. The Thayans might have decimated them as they emerged from cover, except that Chadrezzan, shrouded from head to toe in vermilion flame, his serpent-staff held high above his head, hurled burst after burst of fire over their heads. While the barrage lasted, the Red Wizards and their minions had no choice but to hide behind their casements and merlons.

The first pirates reached the doorway. Anton and Tu’ala’keth led them deeper into the house.

It was a different fight now, through rooms, along hallways, and up stairs. With walls in the way, no leader could hope to oversee or direct more than a small part of it. Warriors lacked the space to stand in proper formation. Wizards and crossbowmen couldn’t harass their enemies safely at long range.

Which was to say, it was brutal, howling chaos, and in such a melee, the sheer viciousness of the pirates gave them the upper hand.

Or at least Anton thought it did. In truth, he too had only the haziest impression of what was occurring beyond the reach of his blade, and didn’t dare divert his attention from the enemies in his immediate vicinity to look around.

Finally, though, he killed another Thayan, cast about, and couldn’t find any more to fight. Durth yelled, “I saw a mage run up this way!” He scrambled up a staircase with a door at the top, and two of his fellow ores scrambled after him. The lookout grabbed the handle.

“Stop!” cried Tu’ala’keth.

The word was charged with magic. Durth froze for a heartbeat then turned to her in anger and confusion.

“It is warded,” the waveservant said. “I will deal with it.” She hurried up the steps, and Anton followed.

Tu’ala’keth gripped her dead man’s hand and recited an incantation. Power tinged the air green and made it feel damp. She thrust the tines of her trident into the door, and for an instant, a complex design, inscribed in lines and loops of scarlet light, flared and sizzled into being but without doing anybody any harm.

“Now,” said Tu’ala’keth, “we may pass.” She threw open the door.

Beyond the threshold was a richly appointed suite, surely the private quarters of the ranking Red Wizard in Saerloon. His leg torn, leaving bloody spatters and footprints on a gorgeous carpet as he limped about, the mage was stuffing various possessions in a haversack seemingly too small to hold them. It must be one of those enchanted containers that was larger inside than out.

The mage cursed and pointed an ebony wand with a milky crystal on the end. The attackers ducked for cover as best they could in the confined area of the top risers and the small landing.

With a roar, force exploded through the doorway and smashed the sections of wall on either side into hurtling scraps. Time seemed to skip, and Anton found himself lying amid a litter of wood and plaster on the floor at the base of the steps.

His ears rang, his whole body felt as if it were vibrating from the impact, but he didn’t seem to be dead or maimed. He looked around for his companions. One of the ores had both legs twisted at unnatural angles with a jagged bit of broken bone sticking out of one, but other than that, it looked as if everyone might be all right. They were just battered and dazed.

The concussion had blasted away the top of the staircase, but a bit of the supporting structure remained, affixed to the wall. Anton used it to clamber high enough to peek into the Red Wizard’s quarters.

The wretch was gone.

Anton dropped back down to the floor, where Tu’ala’keth awaited him. “He escaped,” the spy admitted. “Used magic to whisk himself away with his most valuable treasures.”

“Will he return with more warriors?” asked Tu’ala’keth.

Anton grinned. “That’s the funny part. Thayan trading enclaves count as Thayan soil. They insist on it. That means the local watch and what-have-you carry no authority within these walls, and most likely they resent it. They won’t be in any hurry to come accost us even if a Red Wizard begs them.”

His slate-colored cheeks and forehead bristling with splinters, Durth shook his head. “Still when I think of the swag the dog just snatched away from us…”

“Don’t worry,” Anton said. “We still have the gold.”

And, as they discovered when they broke into the strong room, it was a lot of gold. It was as much as he’d ever seen in one placeenough to take everyone’s breath away.

Captain Clayhill turned to Chadrezzan. “It will be heavy,” she said. “Can you conjure some of those floating disks to carry it to the ship?”

The magician inclined his head.

“Then let’s move. The Sembians could still bestir themselves to chase us.”

“If they do,” said Tu’ala’keth, “the wind and currents will not favor them.”