Deudermont’s eyes widened then narrowed dangerously.
“That’s yer deal,” the sea dog said.
“I’m going to burn this city to rubble,” Robillard growled under his breath, but then he shook his head and added, “Take the offer, Captain. To the Nine Hells with Luskan.”
Beside Robillard, Drizzt and Regis exchanged concerned glances, and both of them were thinking the same thing, that maybe it was time for Deudermont to admit that he could not succeed in the City of Sails, as he’d hoped. They had been out on the streets the previous day, after all, and had seen the scale of the opposition.
For a long while, the room lay silent. Deudermont put his chin in his hand and seemed deep in thought. He didn’t look back to his three friends, nor did he pay any heed at all to the ambassador, who stood tapping his foot impatiently.
Finally, the governor of Luskan sat up straight. “Baram and Taerl err,” he said.
“Only deal ye’re gettin’,” said the pirate.
“Go and tell your bosses that Luskan will not go to the Nine Hells, but that they surely shall,” said Deudermont. “The people of Luskan have entrusted me to lead them to a better place, and to that place we will go.”
“And where might all these people be?” the pirate asked with dripping sarcasm. “Might they be shooting arrows at ye’re boys even as we’re talkin’?”
“Be gone to your masters,” said Deudermont. “And know that if I see your ugly face again, I will surely kill you.”
The threat, delivered so calmly, seemed to unsettle the man, and he staggered backward a few steps, then turned and rushed from the room.
“Secure a route from here to the wharves,” Deudermont instructed his friends. “If we’re forced into retreat, it will be to Sea Sprite.”
“We could just walk there, openly,” said Robillard, and he pointed at the door through which the ambassador had just exited.
“If we leave, it will be a temporary departure,” Deudermont promised. “And woe to any ship we see flying Luskan’s colors. And woe to the high captains when we return, Waterdhavian lords at our side.”
“The reports from the street are unequivocal,” Kensidan announced. “This is it. There will be no pause. Deudermont wins or he loses this day.”
“He loses,” came the voice from the shadows. “There is no relief on the way from Waterdeep.”
“I don’t underestimate that one, or his powerful friends,” said the Crow.
“Don’t underestimate his powerful enemies,” the voice replied. “Kurth succeeded in defeating the flotilla, though no ships from Luskan got near to it.”
That turned Kensidan away from the window, to peer at the globe of darkness.
“Kurth has an ally,” the voice explained. “One Deudermont believes destroyed. One who does not draw breath, save to find his voice for powerful magical dweomers.”
The Crow considered the cryptic clues for a moment then his eyes widened and he seemed as near to panic as anyone had ever seen him. “Greeth,” he mumbled.
“Arklem Greeth himself,” said the voice. “Seeking revenge on Deudermont.”
The Crow began to stalk the room, eyes darting all around.
“Arklem Greeth will not challenge you,” the voice in the darkness promised. “His days of ruling Luskan are at an end. He accepted this before Deudermont moved on the Hosttower.”
“But he aligns with Kurth. Whatever your assurances regarding the archmage arcane, you cannot make the same with regard to Kurth!”
“The lich will not go against us, whatever High Captain Kurth might ask of him,” the unseen speaker said with confidence.
“You cannot know that!”
A soft chuckle came from the darkness, one that ended any further debate on the subject, and one that sent a shiver coursing Kensidan’s spine, a reminder of who it was he was dealing with, of who he had trusted—trusted! — throughout his entire ordeal.
“Move decisively,” the voice prompted. “You are correct in your assessment that this day determines Luskan’s future. There is nothing but the angled wall of a corner behind you now.”
CHAPTER 32
THE ONE I WOULD KILL
W e should be on the shore with the captain!” one woman cried.
“Aye, we can’t be letting him fight that mob alone!” said another of Sea Sprite’s increasingly impatient and upset crew. “Half the city’s come against him.”
“We were told to guard Sea Sprite,” Waillan Micanty shouted above them all. “Captain Deudermont put no ‘unless’ in our orders! He said stay with Sea Sprite and keep her safe, and that’s what we’re to do—all of us!”
“While he gets himself killed?”
“He’s got Robillard with him, and Drizzt Do’Urden,” Waillan argued back, and the mention of those two names did seem to have a calming effect on the crew. “He’ll get to us if he needs to get to us—and what a sorry bunch of sailors we’d be to lose the ship and his one chance at escaping!
“Now, to your stations, one and all,” he ordered. “Turn your eyes to the sea and the many pirates moored just outside the harbor.”
“They all fought with us,” a crewman remarked.
“Aye, against Arklem Greeth,” said Waillan. “And most of those coming against Captain Deudermont now marched with him to the Hosttower. The game’s changed, so be on your guard.”
There was a bit of grumbling, but Sea Sprite’s veteran crew scurried back to their respective watch and gunnery posts and most managed to tear their eyes from the signs of fighting in the city proper to focus again on any possible threats to their own position.
And not a moment too soon, for Waillan Micanty had barely finished speaking when the crewman in the crow’s nest shouted down, “Starboard!” Then clarified, “The water line!” as Micanty and others rushed to the rail.
As chance would have it, the first lacedon scaling Sea Sprite’s hull pulled over the rail right in front of Micanty himself, who met it with a heavy slash of his saber.
“Ghouls!” he cried. “Ghouls aboard Sea Sprite!”
And so came Arklem Greeth’s horrid minions, splashing out of the water all around the pirate hunter. Crewmen rushed to and fro, weapons drawn, determined to cut the beasts down before they could get a foothold, for if the lacedons managed to get onto the deck, they all knew that their own ranks would quickly thin. Waillan Micanty led the way, bludgeoning and cutting ghoul after ghoul, rushing from starboard to port just in time to drive back over the rail the first of the lacedons attacking that side of the vessel.
“Too many!” came a cry from aft, near the catapult, and Waillan turned to see ghouls standing up straight on the deck, and to see a pair of the catapult crew fall paralyzed to the deck. His gaze immediately went out to the deeper waters and the many ships anchored there. The catapult was down. Sea Sprite was vulnerable.
He charged the breach, calling for crewmen to join him, but when one rushed into his wake, Waillan, recognizing the terrible danger, stopped the woman. “Contact Robillard,” he bade her. “Tell him of our situation.”
“We can win,” the woman, an apprentice of Robillard’s, replied.
But Waillan was hearing none of it. “Now! Tell him!”
The mage nodded reluctantly, her gaze still locked on the fight on the aft deck. She did turn, though, and scrambled down the bulkhead.
Sitting invisibly in Sea Sprite’s hold, Arklem Greeth watched her move to the crystal ball with great anticipation and amusement.
“The same force that destroyed the Waterdhavian flotilla,” Deudermont remarked when Robillard relayed the predicament of Sea Sprite.“Perhaps they followed the one surviving ship to us.”
The wizard considered the reasoning for a moment then nodded, but he was thinking of much more sinister possibilities given the nature and coordination of the lacedon attack, and the fact that it was occurring right in Luskan Harbor, where such attacks were unprecedented.