Suljack started to respond, but bit it off and stood taking a long measure of Kensidan. But again, of course, the Crow assumed an unreadable posture and expression. With a nod and a smile of gratitude, Suljack left the room.

The dwarf slowly followed, letting the high captain get long out of earshot before he whispered to Kensidan, “He’s to choose Deudermont.”

“Wrong choice,” Kensidan replied.

The dwarf nodded and continued out behind Suljack.

Amid the cries and the men rushing around, Suljack ran to the window overlooking the dark street, the dwarf close behind.

“Baram or Taerl?” the high captain asked Phillus, one of his most trusted guards, who knelt beside a second window, bow in hand.

“Might be both,” the man replied.

“Too many,” said another of the guards in the room.

“Both, then,” said another.

Suljack rubbed his hands across his face, trying to comprehend the meaning of it all. The second shipment had arrived from Ship Rethnor earlier that same day, but it had come with a warning that High Captains Baram and Taerl were growing increasingly angry with the arrangements.

Suljack had decided to send the excess food to Deudermont anyway.

Directly below him in the street, the fighting had all but ended, with the combatants moving off to the alleyways, Suljack’s men in pursuit, and the stripped and shattered wagons lay in ruins.

“Why would they do this?” the high captain asked.

“Might be that they’re not liking yerself climbing over them in Deudermont’s favor,” said the dwarf. “Or might be that both o’ them’ re still hating Deudermont o’ Sea Sprite too much to agree with yer choices.”

Suljack waved him to silence. Of course he knew all of that reasoning, but still it shocked him to think that his peers would strike out so boldly at a time of such desperation, even with relief reportedly well on its way.

He came out of his contemplation at the sound of renewed fighting across the street below him, and just down an alleyway. When one man came into view, looking back and down the alley, Phillus put up his bow and took deadly aim.

“Baram, or Taerl?” Suljack asked as Phillus let fly.

The arrow struck true. The man let out a howl and staggered back under cover, just as another man, one of Suljack’s, came screaming out of the alley, blood streaming from a dozen wounds.

“That’s M’Nack!” Phillus cried, referring to a favored young soldier of the Ship.

“Go! Go! Go!” Suljack yelled to his guards, and they all ran from the room, except for the dwarf and Phillus. “Kill any who come out in pursuit,” Suljack instructed his deadly archer, who nodded and held his bow steady.

As the room all but cleared, Suljack went closer to the window, pulling it open and peering out intently. “Baram, Taerl, or both?” he asked quietly, his gaze roving the street, looking for some hint.

Across the way, the man Phillus had pegged stumbled out and away. A second arrow shot off, but missed the staggering thief, though it came close enough to make the man turn and look up at the source.

Suljack’s jaw dropped open when he recognized the minor street thug. “Reth—?” he started to ask when he heard a thump to the side.

He turned to see Phillus lying on the floor, his head split open, a familiar spiked morningstar lying beside him.

He turned farther to see the dwarf, holding Phillus’s bow, drawn and set.

“Wh—?” he started to ask as the dwarf let fly, the arrow driving into Suljack’s gut and taking his breath. He staggered and fought to stand as the dwarf calmly reloaded and shot him again.

On the ground and crying, Suljack started to crawl away. He managed to gasp, “Why?”

“Ye forgot who ye were,” the dwarf said, and put a third arrow into him, right in the shoulder blade.

Suljack continued to crawl, gasping and crying loudly,

A fourth arrow nicked his spine and stabbed into his kidney.

“Ye’re just making it hurt more,” the dwarf calmly explained, his voice distant, as if coming from far, far away.

Suljack hardly felt the next arrow, or the one after that, but he somehow knew that he wasn’t moving anymore. He tried futilely to cry out, but found one last fleeting hope when he heard the dwarf cry out, “Murder!”

He managed to shift his head far enough to see the dwarf holding Phillus up in the air, and with three short running strides, he launched the already-dead guard crashing through the window to plummet to the hard street below. Phillus’s broken bow, the dwarf having snapped it in half, followed in short order.

The last thing Suljack saw before darkness closed was the dwarf sliding down beside him. The last thing he heard was the dwarf crying out, “Murder! He shot the boss! Phillus the dog shot the boss! Oh, murder!”

CHAPTER 30

DEUDERMONT’S GAUNTLET

T hree spears flew down the alley almost simultaneously, all thrown with great anger and strength. Desperate defenders angled bucklers to deflect or at least minimize the impact. But the spears never made it to the opposing lines, for a lithe figure sprang from an open window, tumbled to the street, and a pair of curved blades worked fast to chop at the missiles as they passed, driving them harmlessly aside.

The defenders cheered, thinking a new and mighty ally had come, and the spearmen cursed, seeing their impending doom in the fiery eyes and spinning blades of the deadly dark elf.

“What madness is this?” Drizzt demanded, turning repeatedly to encompass all the combatants with his accusation.

“Be asking them!” cried one of the spearmen. “Them who killed Suljack!”

“Be asking them!” the leader of the defenders retorted. “Them who came to wage war!”

“Murderers!” cried a spearman.

“By your lies!” came the response.

“The city is dying around you!” Drizzt cried. “Your disputes can be resolved, but not until…” He ended there since, with another cry of, “Murderers!” the spearmen flooded into the alleyway and charged. On the opposite side, the defenders responded with, “Lying thieves!” and similarly rushed.

Leaving Drizzt caught in the middle.

Suljack, or Taerl? The question swirled in Drizzt’s thoughts as the choice became urgent. With which Ship would he side? Whose claim was stronger? How could he assume the role of judge with so little information? All of those thoughts and troubling questions played through his mind in the few heartbeats he had before being crushed between the opposing forces, and the only answer he could fathom was that he could not choose.

He belted his scimitars and ran to the side of the alleyway, springing upon the wall and pulling himself up out of harm’s way. He found a perch on a windowsill and turned to watch helplessly, shaking his head.

Fury drove the Suljack crew. Those behind the leading wall of flesh who couldn’t punish their enemies in melee threw any missiles they could find: spears, daggers, even pieces of wood or stone they managed to tear from neighboring buildings.

Taerl’s defenders seemed no less resolute, if more controlled, forming a proper shield wall to defend the initial collision, showing patience as the rage of the attackers played out.

Drizzt didn’t have the detachment necessary to admire or criticize either side’s tactics, and didn’t have the heart to even begin to predict which side would win. He knew in his gut that the outcome was assured, that all of Luskan would surely lose.

Only his quick instincts and reflexes saved his life as one of Suljack’s men, unable to get a clear shot at Taerl’s defenders, instead lifted his crossbow at Drizzt and let fly. The drow dodged at the last instant, but still got slashed across the back of his shoulder before his mithral shirt turned the bolt. The effort nearly sent him tumbling from his perch.