Wulfgar didn’t miss the point. “Bare hands and up the mast!” the barbarian roared, flexing his muscles so they seemed they would burst. “The pirate and me! Let the winner know the glory of victory. And let the loser drop to his death!”

Pinochet looked at the three crazed warriors. Then, almost pleading for help, he turned back to Deudermont.

“Ah, ye’re all missing the fun.” Catti-brie grinned, not to be left out. “Where’s the sport in one of ye tearin’ the pirate apart? Give him the little boat and set him off.” Her spritely face turned suddenly grim, and she cast a wicked glare at Pinochet. “Give him a boat,” she reiterated, “and let him dodge me silver arrows!”

“Very well, Captain Pinochet,” Deudermont began, barely hiding a chuckle. “I would not invoke the rage of the pirates. You are a free man and may go when you choose.”

Pinochet snapped around, face to face with Deudermont.

“Or,” continued the captain of the Sea Sprite, “you and your crew can remain in my hold, under my personal protection, until we reach port.”

“You cannot control your crew?” the pirate spat.

“They are not my crew,” Deudermont replied. “And if these four chose to kill you, I daresay that I could do little to deter them.”

“It is not the way of my people to let our enemies live!” Drizzt interjected in a tone so callous that it sent shivers through the spines of even his closest friends. “Yet I need you, Captain Deudermont, and your ship.” He sheathed his blades in a lightning-quick movement. “I will let the pirate live in exchange for the completion of our arrangements.”

“The hold, Captain Pinochet?” Deudermont asked, waving two of his crewmen in to escort the pirate leader.

Pinochet’s eyes were back on Drizzt. “If you ever sail this way again, …” the stubborn pirate began ominously.

Bruenor kicked him in the behind. “Wag yer tongue again dog,” the dwarf roared, “and suren I’ll cut it out!”

Pinochet left quietly with Deudermont’s crewmen.

Later that day, while the crew of the Sea Sprite continued its repairs, the reunited friends retired to Drizzt and Wulfgar’s cabin to hear of Bruenor’s adventures in Mithril Hall. Stars twinkled in the evening sky and still the dwarf went on, talking of the riches he had seen, of the ancient and holy places he had come across in his homeland, of his many skirmishes with duergar patrols, and of his final, daring escape through the great undercity.

Catti-brie sat directly across from Bruenor, watching the dwarf through the swaying flame of the single candle burning on the table. She had heard his story before, but Bruenor could spin a tale as well as any, and she leaned forward in her chair, mesmerized once again. Wulfgar, with his long arms draped comfortably over her shoulders, had pulled his chair up behind her.

Drizzt stood by the window and gazed at the dreamy sky. How like the old times it all seemed, as if they had somehow brought a piece of Icewind Dale along with them. Many were the nights that the friends had gathered to swap tales of their pasts or to just enjoy the quiet of the evening together. Of course, a fifth member had been with the group then and always with an outlandish tale that outdid all the others.

Drizzt looked at his friends and then back to the night sky, thinking—hoping—of a day when the five friends would be rejoined.

A knock on the door made the three at the table jump, so engrossed were they—even Bruenor—in the dwarf’s story. Drizzt opened the door, and Captain Deudermont walked in.

“Greetings,” he said politely. “I would not interrupt, but I have some news.”

“Just getting to the good part,” Bruenor grumbled, “but it’ll get better with a bit o’ waiting!”

“I have spoken with Pinochet once again,” said Deudermont. “He is a very prominent man in this land, and it does not fit well that he set up three ships to stop us. He was after something.”

“Us,” Drizzt reasoned.

“He said nothing directly,” replied Deudermont, “but I believe that to be the case. Please understand that I cannot press him too far.”

“Bah! I’ll get the dog a barkin’!” Bruenor huffed.

“No need,” said Drizzt. “The pirates had to be looking for us.”

“But how would they know?” Deudermont asked.

“Balls of fire over Baldur’s Gate,” Wulfgar reasoned.

Deudermont nodded, remembering the display. “It would seem that you have attracted some powerful foes.”

“The man we seek knew that we would come into Baldur’s Gate,” said Drizzt. “He even left a message for us. It would not have been difficult for the likes of Artemis Entreri to arrange a signal detailing how and when we left.”

“Or to arrange the ambush,” Wulfgar said grimly.

“So it would seem,” said Deudermont.

Drizzt kept quiet, but suspected differently. Why would Entreri lead them all this way, only to have them killed by pirates? Someone else had entered the picture, Drizzt knew, and he could only guess that that person was Pasha Pook himself.

“But there are other matters we must discuss,” said Deudermont. “The Sea Sprite is seaworthy, but we have taken serious damage—as has the pirate ship we have captured.”

“Do you mean to sail both out of here?” Wulfgar asked.

“Aye,” replied the captain. “We shall release Pinochet and his men when we get to port. They will take the vessel from there.”

“Pirates deserve worse,” Bruenor grumbled.

“And will this damage slow our journey?” Drizzt asked, more concerned with their mission.

“It will,” Deudermont replied. “I am hoping to get us to the kingdom of Calimshan, to Memnon, just beyond the Tethyr border. Our flag will aid us in the desert kingdom. There, we may dock and repair.”

“For how long?”

Deudermont shrugged. “A week, perhaps, maybe longer. We’ll not know until we can properly assess the damage. And another week after that to sail around the horn to Calimport.”

The four friends exchanged disheartened and worried glances. How many days did Regis have left to live? Could the halfling afford the delay?

“But there is another option,” Deudermont told them. “The journey from Memnon to Calimport by ship, around the city of Teshburl and into the Shining Sea, is much longer than the straight land route. Caravans depart for Calimport nearly every day, and the journey, though a hard one through the Calim Desert, takes but a few days.”

“We have little gold for passage,” said Catti-brie.

Deudermont waved the problem away. “A minor cost,” he said. “Any caravan heading through the desert would be glad to have you along as guards. And you have earned ample reward from me to get you through.” He jiggled a bag of gold strapped to his belt. “Or, if you choose, you may remain with the Sea Sprite for as long as you wish.”

“How long to Memnon?” Drizzt asked.

“It depends on how much wind our sails can hold,” replied Deudermont. “Five days; perhaps a week.”

“Tell us of this Calim Desert,” said Wulfgar. “What is a desert?”

“A barren land,” replied Deudermont grimly, not wanting to understate the challenge that would be before them if they chose that course. “An empty wasteland of blowing, stinging sands and hot winds. Where monsters rule over men, and many an unfortunate traveler has crawled to his death to be picked clean by vultures.”

The four friends shrugged away the captain’s grim description. Except for the temperature difference, it sounded like home.