Starlight Enclave Page 6

  “Are ye talking to me or talking to Luskan?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then good for Luskan, I say, when we put into her long wharf carrying Pelican’s black and Captain Arrongo’s head.”

  Jarlaxle tipped his hat and bowed to the captain. He tossed her an approving wink when he stood straight and turned again for starboard.

  “You completed your business, then?” she asked, stopping him before he took his first step.

  Jarlaxle nodded, confused for only a moment before he guessed her next question even as she asked it.

  “Was Wulfgar there? In Gauntlgrym.”

  “I didn’t see him,” he admitted. “I heard that he was out of the tunnels and into Bleeding Vines.”

  “Very well, then,” she said, disappointment thick in her voice and clear on her sea-weathered face.

  “Deliver the Pelican to me and when we return to Luskan, I’ll get you a ride through the magical gates so you can go and visit Wulfgar yourself,” Jarlaxle promised.

  A smile betrayed the woman, but was quickly replaced by a shake of her head, one rooted, quite obviously, in nervousness.

  “Why do you underestimate the man?” Jarlaxle asked. “Or is it yourself that you find inadequate for the moment?”

  “I’m not wishing to intrude. He has his life, I’ve me own.”

  “You’ve your own because of him,” Jarlaxle reminded her.

  “Because of you.”

  “No, because of Wulfgar. I trust him—more than he trusts me, I am sure—and I am more fond of him than he is of me. He came to trust Bonnie Charlee, and thus, so do I. He is quite impressed with you and would be happy to see you.”

  The woman shrugged, and even in the starlight, Jarlaxle could see her blush.

  He pulled her from that moment with a pointed sigh. “I wish I could go back through the years and find that which brought you to this place in your own heart,” he said. “Do you truly value yourself so little that you are afraid to go and see the man?”

  “He has his life and I have mine,” she repeated.

  “You fear he’ll reject you.”

  “He has his life and I have mine.”

  Jarlaxle laughed. “So you reject the rejection before it can be offered. It is such silliness—and I say that with all respect, Captain Bonnie Charlee. I see this in so many around me, elves and drow and dwarves and folk of all ilk, men and women alike. I find it most silly in humans, who live so short a time. Why would you waste what could be good days and instead sit miserable and chewing your lips in the fear that those good days won’t be good?”

  “Ye’re babbling.”

  “Far from it! Go and see him, and likely find a grand memory in your too-short life, instead of sitting here and forfeiting the possibility.”

  “He has Penelope Harpell,” she reminded him.

  “Penelope?” Jarlaxle said and snickered. “She’s likely at the Ivy Mansion and is not about to be jealous in any case, I assure you.”

  “And if she’s not, and is in Gauntlgrym?”

  “She’d probably join you, if you had the mind for it,” Jarlaxle said with a great laugh. “And even if not in that way, we all would do well to spend more time with Penelope Harpell. Aye, but we’d all learn a lot from her, particularly in how to enjoy life more.” He paused, noting her expression, and added, “Yes, even Jarlaxle!”

  That brought a wide grin to Bonnie Charlee, and a nod, and Jarlaxle hoped that she would take his advice. “Now, I must go to my friend,” he said after another round of vomiting sounded. “How long has he been sick?”

  “Since we breached the second wave out of Luskan,” Bonnie Charlee said with a genuinely grateful smile and a nod.

  “How long to the Pelican?”

  “Before dawn if we find her sails. So aye, go to Master Zaknafein. If you want him ready for a fight, you’d best be getting him up from the rail.”

  Jarlaxle tipped his hat again to the captain, and like every time he dealt with Bonnie Charlee, he was very glad that Wulfgar had stood up for her in those early moments when the demon and gnoll fleet led by Brevindon Margaster had overrun Luskan. She was a valuable member of Jarlaxle’s team now, an able captain, a scrappy fighter, and with so much critical knowledge and insight into the region and the city itself. And Jarlaxle hadn’t lied to her. More than anything else, he wanted the people of Luskan to want the leadership of Bregan D’aerthe, and Bonnie Charlee was one of the people who might well get him there.

  He moved across the deck and around some barrels and sacks to spot a figure resting against the low rail, propped up with his arm over it, but seeming very much like he was about to slide down flat on the deck.

  “Prebattle jitters?” he asked, moving over to stand above Zak.

  “What form of hell is this?” Zak replied, trying but not quite managing to lift his gaze high enough to look Jarlaxle in the eye.

  “I warned you that the rolling waves are unsettling to one who has known only the solidity of land.”

  “Shut up.”

  “It would be just like the bobbing webways of Ched Nasad, I believe was your answer. It’s hard for me to recall the exact words, as you were saying them while chewing undercooked eggs, if I’m remembering correctly.”

  The mere mention of the runny eggs had Zak rolling back to get his face out over the rail, where he began to throw up some more.

  “Captain Arrongo will prove a formidable foe, by all accounts,” Jarlaxle said. “Would you have me serve as your champion and defeat him? I would respectfully refuse, for in that instance, how would you properly claim his sword as your own?”

  Zaknafein leaned a bit and lifted his scowl at the mercenary leader, unable to hide his intrigue at this new motivation.

  “Come, come,” Jarlaxle said, offering a hand. “Let’s get you up and walking, at least.”

  Zak didn’t take the hand and looked away. “I need more time.”

  Jarlaxle heaved a great sigh and pulled the magical eyepatch off his face, then bent low and set it over Zak’s head, adjusting it to cover the weapon master’s left eye. He grabbed Zak by the shoulder and began to hoist, and now Zak did come up, and stood straight and not wobbly before Jarlaxle. His expression went from uncertainty to befuddlement in fast order.

  “The truesight dweomer of the eyepatch is a great aid,” Jarlaxle said. “I was the same as you when I first sailed these rough waters.”

  “But now you don’t need it?”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Then why didn’t you give me the eye—” Zak stopped short and scowled mightily.

  “You’ll never grow accustomed to the roll of the seas without the discomfort.”

  “I’m never coming out here again.”

  Jarlaxle snorted but didn’t argue. “Take heart, my friend; you will find the reward worth the vomit.”

  Zak turned his head to the side and spat out over the rail. “You need associates on the land. I’m better serving there.”

  “I’m only out here for you,” Jarlaxle said.

  “Why?” Zak asked skeptically, and he tilted his head to the side and studied Jarlaxle through the eyepatch, using another of its marvelous enchantments to recognize honesty in the rogue’s words. “Thank you?”

  “Consider this part of your journey a growing experience,” Jarlaxle explained. “You don’t have your son’s scimitars anymore. Do you think I would allow my second—”

  “Kimmuriel is your second.”

  “He’s the other half of my first. In my part of Bregan D’aerthe, in my, shall we say, personal journeys, you are my partner.”

  “You called me your second. Now I’m your partner? And does Artemis Entreri know of this new arrangement?”

  “We’ve a fight coming. Are you going to argue about everything?”

  “Titles matter.”

  “What would you prefer?”

  “Your better,” Zak said, and he pulled the eyepatch from his head and tossed it back to Jarlaxle. Both his claim a
nd his action would have carried more weight if Zak hadn’t chosen the very next moment to relieve himself of the rest of the contents of his stomach as he slumped down once more against the rail.

  “Keep chummin’ and ye’ll bring a host o’ sharks up on our side!” Bonnie Charlee called out.

  “Why is she still alive?” Zak asked.

  “More alive than you, which won’t bode well when we catch the Pelican,” Jarlaxle told him.

  “You don’t need me to catch the Pelican.”

  “A warrior should earn his sword.”

  “I have a sword. Two!”

  “You have a pair of sharp sticks. Captain Arrongo of the Pelican, he has a sword.”

  “Do you think he would beat me with his sword against my sticks?”

  “That’s the challenge, isn’t it?”

  “Is it?”

  Jarlaxle shrugged. “If you care, Arrongo also has a hold full of innocent prisoners, including children, all of whom will be put to a horrible death or sold into slavery.” He held out the eyepatch.

  Zaknafein stared at it for a moment, then pulled himself to his feet and refused the offer. He closed his eyes and wasn’t trembling, and Jarlaxle could see him physically steeling himself against the seasickness—yet another reminder to Jarlaxle of the force of Zak’s willpower.

  He was so glad to have this one by his side again.

  Zak opened his eyes. “You owe me some eggs.”

  “It will be our victory meal,” Jarlaxle promised.

  Hours later, Jarlaxle emerged from Captain Bonnie Charlee’s quarters, where he had realized some much-needed rest, to find a growing commotion along the starboard rail. Several sailors were gathered about a pair of men wielding gaff hooks, taking turns reaching low over the rail as if trying to recover something from the sea.

  “From Pelican,” Bonnie Charlee told Jarlaxle as he neared. She nodded her chin to the pile of retrieved items: clothing, mostly, including a shredded dress that seemed to be tangled about something. As he neared, Jarlaxle winced and turned, realizing the tangle to be a severed arm still caught in what was left of the gown’s sleeve.

  One of the gaffers yelped and fell back from the rail, losing his grip on the long pole. A woman caught the handle and held it tight, bringing it over to reveal that the end of it was broken away.

  “White shark,” Bonnie Charlee told Jarlaxle. “They’re following Pelican and Arrongo’s crew’s having fun with it.”

  “Fun,” Jarlaxle echoed with disgust. He shook his head. “How far?”

  “We’d see her sails if the sun was up.”

  “Every moment we waste might cost another her life.”

  Bonnie Charlee nodded. “Fill the sails with wind,” she told her chief mate. “Douse all lights, not a candle burning, and shut ’em up, every one. Not a sound from Revenge. Arrongo and his dogs’ll see us before they hear us, and when they see us, it’ll be too late for them.”

  The woman nodded and ran off, relaying the orders.

  “They’ll use their captives against us before the fighting starts,” Bonnie Charlee told Jarlaxle.

  The drow rogue shook his head. “I have a plan.”

  “Ye might want to be tellin’ the captain.”

  “I won’t be on your ship, captain,” Jarlaxle replied with a grin, and he tapped the pouch holding his magical boat.

  “Ye’re going out?”

  Jarlaxle nodded, the plan only then formulating in his thoughts. “I’ll leave you with all my forces, to deploy as you will. The opening fight is Bonnie Charlee’s to command.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I’ll help” was all that Jarlaxle would offer at that time, and with a tip of his hat, he took his leave, going belowdecks to the back corner of the main hold, where he had left Zaknafein and Entreri with several other Bregan D’aerthe associates.

  He hadn’t even stepped from the ladder when he felt Deudermont’s Revenge lifting her prow a bit higher, the full sails catching the wind and racing along. Yes, he thought, he was glad indeed that he had listened to Wulfgar regarding Bonnie Charlee.

  Captain Bonnie Charlee.

  They heard a commotion far ahead in the darkness, a scream, some splashes. Then more screams, increasing in both number and intensity.

  Jarlaxle leaned on the pole, trying to get as much out of the windy magic as he could. Beside him on Bauble, the priestess Dab’nay whispered to herself, gathering magical energy for the fast-approaching trial. Up forward, beyond the mast, Zaknafein and Artemis Entreri leaned out on either side of the small boat’s high prow, straining their eyes to peer into the darkness.

  “A running light,” Zak whispered, pointing ahead.

  “Trick of the starlight on the water?” Jarlaxle asked.

  “No, more,” Entreri put in. His dark cloak billowed out behind him in a strong wind gust, and he popped his hand atop his new hat, a stylish black affair with a five-finger crown, pinched in front, and a three-finger brim bent low in front, lying flat on the sides, and curling slightly up in the back. Dressed less for battle than for a night on the town.

  But no less deadly for it.

  “Lanterns,” Zaknafein quietly declared. “A torch.”

  “They want to watch the sharks tearing at those they’ve thrown in the water,” Entreri said. He leaned to the side and low, peering back at Jarlaxle under the bouncing bottom seam of the single square sail. “You still think any of these pirates are worth sparing?”

  “Some have asked the same of Artemis Entreri in the past,” Jarlaxle reminded him.

  “When you were a younger man, you would have done this?” Dab’nay asked.

  “No,” Entreri answered with conviction. “Not to prisoners whose only crime was to get caught by the pirates.” He turned away and looked ahead and added grimly and softly, “But I’ll do it to pirates.”

  “Dab’nay, silence us, and darken Bauble,” Jarlaxle said. He reached into his belt pouch and lifted a cylindrical item, then kept lifting until the long scope came free of the bag of holding. He set it on a notch on Bauble’s prow, extending it far forward of the craft, and though Dab’nay’s globe of darkness covered the small boat stern to prow, sail to water, Jarlaxle could still view their destination through the far end of the scope, which was beyond the globe and enchanted to work in exactly this situation.

  The lights of the Pelican came clearer to Jarlaxle as the small boat raced across the open sea.

  Jarlaxle reached back and tapped Dab’nay, signaling her to remove the magical darkness and as soon as it was gone, he motioned for the others to be quiet and for Dab’nay to also lift the silence spell. “Slow us,” Jarlaxle whispered, and Entreri pulled back the lever.

  “They’ll soon see the Revenge,” Zaknafein remarked.

  “Good. They’ll be looking at her and not at our own low profile,” Entreri added.

  Jarlaxle nodded and was pleased by Entreri’s exchange with Dab’nay. He seemed a different man now, right down to his choice of hat. Releasing the souls from his vampiric dagger appeared to have lifted a great weight from his shoulders, as if now—and only now—he was believing in his own chance of redemption.

  “You all know your places?” Jarlaxle whispered, and to Dab’nay, he added, “You’ve the proper spells ready?”

  “We’ll be as silent as shadows,” she promised.

  “Slow! Slow!” Jarlaxle harshly whispered, waving his arm frantically.

  Entreri reacted immediately, pulling the throttle all the way back, ceasing the magical wind, and Bauble slowed so dramatically that they all had to catch themselves or pitch forward to the deck or the sea. It took Entreri only a moment after Dab’nay released the magical darkness to understand Jarlaxle’s urgency, for just ahead and off to starboard, something floated in the dark water. As they neared, the shape became that of a woman, bobbing in the sea.

  Zaknafein turned the boat to come up beside her, and Entreri leaned out to grab at the unresponsive form.

  But the
man pulled back in horror, and the woman overturned.

  Or, rather, half the woman overturned.

  Entreri pushed the pole, the wind kicked up, and Bauble leaped away. And not a moment too soon, as the huge shark broke the surface right behind them, claiming the other half of its meal.

  The four shaken sailors collected themselves as the small craft raced toward the large ship, not another word of mercy for the pirates spoken between them.

  Not another word at all.

  Silent as death, they slid up alongside their target. Jarlaxle brought a dagger into each of his hands with his magical bracers, and with a word to Bauble, he dropped the mast. He stabbed the daggers to catch on to Pelican, hand-walking the small boat back under the steep curving hull by the high stern, securing them up tight out of sight of the deck near to her rudder. He handed off the stuck daggers to Entreri, stepped back, and used his favorite wand, gluing the crafts together with a glob of viscous goo, and there the four sat, waiting.

  Very soon after, they heard the commotion above, pirates running about, mates barking orders.

  Deudermont’s Revenge was still far away, but the dark silhouette of her sail was in sight of the four in the small boat soon after, and coming up fast.

  “Patience, patience,” Jarlaxle whispered when Zak drew his swords. Jarlaxle was speaking as much to himself as to the others, he realized when he took off his great hat and reached inside.

  Suddenly, the sky lit up between the two ships, a barrage of small flames leaping out from Pelican, and then a larger missile of burning pitch, the shudder of Pelican’s catapult nearly swamping Bauble.

  Peas of magical flame exploded into huge fireballs, one after another—though they really couldn’t be described as balls, or anything spherical, as they ignited against Revenge’s magical shields, which fended off their flames. The catapult missile hit a wall of wind, sparks and embers flying harmlessly aside, and conjured water rained down on it, stealing most of its fire. Still, much of its payload got through, plunging down across the deck, and the flames of several fireballs also found their targets.

  One of Revenge’s sails was burning. Jarlaxle and the others could hear the screams of more than one sailor caught by the fires or splattered by burning pitch.