Haarn hesitated, wondering if she knew him well enough after the past few days to know a lie from him if she heard it. He started to speak, caught himself, then said, "I don't know."

"You don't know if you want to see one, or you don't know if you want to deal with your father's feelings when he finds out you want to see one?"

Haarn didn't answer.

Druz sighed and wrapped her arms more tightly around her legs.

"I grew up in Suzail," she said.

The name meant nothing to Haarn. He didn't suppose he'd ever met anyone from there before, or perhaps they hadn't cared for anyone to know.

"It's the capital city of Cormyr on the Lake of Dragons," she explained.

"I've heard of Cormyr." Actually, Haarn had heard very little.

"I grew up in a small house " Druz said. "My father was a blacksmith, a man good with armor and arms, which is a craft that will keep a man hale and hearty in Cormyr, but there are enough skilled craftsmen there that he was never going to get rich. Still, he provided for all nine children and his wife."

She gazed into the fire, and Haarn sensed that she had hurts of her own. "I was the fourth in the line of children," she continued, "and the first girl. My three older brothers all worked with my father. My mother thought I would provide help in caring for the children and keeping house, but I had my own interests." Haarn sat and listened to her, amazed at how soothing her voice could be after thinking for days only about how she could drone on and on. "When it became apparent that I wasn't going to be the housekeeper my mother wanted and that Josile, the girl next to me, absolutely loved those things, she was given the chores and I got the opportunity to work with my father in the smithy." "You found that work preferable?" Haarn asked. "For a time," Druz admitted. "I was a fair hand at repairing armor and hammering out horseshoes, but I came in contact with men and women who'd traveled around all of Faer?n. Suzail, as large as it had seemed to me, was only a stopping place for them, a waystation while they rested to continue their travels to far-away destinations. One day, after I was grown, or at least thought I was, I decided I wanted to travel. Over the years, I'd been learning swordcraft from anyone who'd teach me. I learned well, and some said I had a talent for it." Haarn agreed, but he kept his thoughts to himself. "One night I left Cormyr, caught the first ship that would hire me on as a sellsword," Druz said, "and I began making my way as a mercenary." "Have you been back to see your family?" Haarn asked. "Several times." "What did your mother and father think about the life you'd chosen?" "They didn't like it," Druz said. "They still don't, but they know I'm happy. I'm getting to travel, and the things I fight for-" She wrinkled her nose."-usually, the things I fight for are of my own choosing and causes I believe in. It's not a life for everyone, but it's the life I chose. That's why I'm telling you this, Haarn. "Maybe the cities aren't to your father's liking, and maybe they won't be to yours, but you shouldn't have to feel guilty about wanting to see them and explore those ties to your mother. I mean no disrespect for your father. Please understand that." Some of Haarn's anger and resistance went away, and he thought perhaps he did understand, though he wasn't certain why Druz would be so adamant about telling him. "If you ever did get curious about cities and wanted to see one," Druz said, "and if I were available to show you one, I… I think I'd like that very much." She glanced away from him, as if unable to any longer hold his gaze. Haarn looked at his father's sleeping form. Normally elves didn't sleep, just went into a meditative trance for four hours or so every day. He could never recall his father sleeping. "He loved her very much, didn't he?" Druz asked some time later. "Yes," Haarn whispered. "Losing her almost killed him." "He'd never known that kind of love before? I know elves are long-lived." "If he has, he's never mentioned it." "And he's never loved like that again?" "No." Haarn fed more wood to the fire, basking in the warm radiance. "Not many people are fortunate to know a love like that," Druz said. "Love like that," Haarn said, meaning it, "is a terrible thing." "Do you really think so?" He gazed at her, surprised by the intensity in her eyes. "I've seen what it can do to people." "You've only seen what it did to your father. Love like that is special, not something easily found." The tone in her voice suggested that she'd had more than a passing interest in the subject. "Love like that is a death trap. Better to find someone you like, share time together, then be on about your business." "And you practice that, Haarn?" Druz's voice carried a biting chill to it that was worse than anything outside the protection of the lean-to. Haarn looked at her, seeing the challenge there and not totally understanding it. He let his breath out when his lungs started to ache, not even knowing he'd been holding his breath. "No," he answered. "That's not what I practice." A smile, partly coy and partly relieved, played on Druz's lips and she asked, "Have you ever been with a woman, Haarn?" Haarn's face burned and he couldn't believe his concern for his father and their forced encampment in the lean-to had led them to this subject. "Now you're stepping over boundaries." A triumphant gleam showed in Druz's eyes and Haarn couldn't understand it at all. "I withdraw the question," she said, "and offer my apologies." Haarn nodded, feeling only a little relieved. "Love like your father and mother had isn't necessarily a bad thing," Druz said. "Wolves mate for life." "Stonefur mated for life," Haarn said coldly, "and his mate attacked you. You killed her without a second's thought." His words visibly stung Druz. Her face pinched shut. Glancing down, she pulled her blanket up and turned away from him. "Since you're awake," she said, "I'm going to sleep now." Haarn watched her do exactly that, and he was irritated at her for raising so many questions in his mind and leaving him with them. He glanced at his father, knowing Ettrian's presence had triggered some of those questions as well. Haarn settled back against the stone wall of the overhang. Never in the past two days had he been so aware of how uncomfortable it was. He gazed at Druz, sleeping so childlike beneath her blanket-except for the naked dagger in her fist-and tried not to think about any of the questions she'd raised within him. It didn't work, not even when he directed his mind to prayers to Silvanus.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Borran Kiosk stood on Mistress Talia's flying deck, scanning the dark ruins of the Whamite Isles. Lightning seared the sky as light rain continued to fall. At least the sea had quieted. The ship had been taken over days before, perhaps even as much as a tenday-Borran Kiosk was not sure. Only corpses revived by the mohrg's magic crewed the ship. The change from living to dead had not been without problems. Alive, the crew had been adept at manning Mistress Talia, but rising from the dead had cost them something of their skill. Only every now and again was Borran Kiosk able to raise one of his kills nearly whole in ability. The five he'd created to carry the pieces of Taraketh's Hive had been very special. One of them, Borran Kiosk knew, had almost been destroyed by druids. He'd managed the skeleton's escape only with the help of the league of wizards Allis served. Lightning burned the heavens again, but nothing disturbed the surface of the sea. Footsteps sounded on the deck behind him. There was only one person who moved freely about the ship. Without looking around at Allis, Borran Kiosk asked, "Where are the drowned ones?" "Under the sea," she replied. "They're probably on their way here now. They hunt anything. From what I'm told, even the fish no longer come here." "We need to go in closer." "If we do," she said, coming up to the railing where he stood, "we run the risk of being overrun by their numbers before you're able to control them." Borran Kiosk raised his arm and regarded the pink and white coral shell that encased his arm. It looked so simple, so powerless. If he hadn't felt the magic in it, he wouldn't have believed it could do what she promised. He looked back out to sea, trying to discern some movement in the rolling troughs of water, but there was none. Allis stared at the rolling sea as well. Her hair lay plastered against her skull and her clothes, like Borran Kiosk's own cloak, were sodden. Her opal eyes glowed in the darkness. The gale winds swept Mistress Talia's decks and yet another bolt of lightning pierced the dark clouds. "Sails!" a man shouted from above. Borran Kiosk looked up at the corpse manning the crow's nest. He had stationed one of the dead men still able to speak up there to act as lookout. "Where?" "Off the starboard bow, cap'n," the dead man cackled gleefully. Unfortunately, though some of the dead men yet maintained enough experience to do their jobs, not all of them kept their sanity. Even after days at sea, Borran Kiosk could not keep straight which was port and which was starboard. None of that mattered in his plans. All he wanted was to get the ship back to Alagh?n with his promised undead army in tow. "Where?" he growled to Allis, who understood such things. "To the right," she answered. Borran Kiosk walked in that direction, crossing the narrow flying bridge. Lightning flared again, and this time it reflected from sails. "No fishermen come out here," Allis said, "and they wouldn't be here at this time of night anyway. They must be looking for someone. Occasionally, treasure hunters come out here, looking to lay claim to cargo lost by ships that were sunk in these waters, and to raid the drowned city itself." "They see us, cap'n," the dead man occupying the crow's nest said. "They're turning and coming toward us." Borran Kiosk saw that the ship had altered its direction and was now approaching them. Lights moved hurriedly along the ship's deck, and more of them were lit. "Someone is looking for us," Borran Kiosk said. "No one knows we're here," Allis said. Borran Kiosk fisted the ratline running down to the flying deck and said, "Coming here wasn't as clever as you thought it was." "There's an army waiting here to be claimed," Allis said. "I can't hide as easily on the open sea as I could have in the city," Borran Kiosk replied. "I know the warrens and alleys there. I could have stayed away from them." "They would have hunted you down. You didn't stand a chance.. . especially not after the way you announced yourself to them." Rage filled Borran Kiosk and he almost backhanded the werespider. "I will not be taken again," he said. "I will not be locked away, nor will I allow myself to be destroyed." "We can hold them off," Allis said. Borran Kiosk wanted to scream and shout, to rail against Malar who had undoubtedly abandoned him yet again. Lightning flared and thunder pealed, sending highlights and a jagged reflection skittering across the sea's surface. The other ship sailed alongside Mistress Talia and matched her speed. Men stood along the other ship's deck. Many of them held lanterns and the lights showed the bows, javelins, and swords the sailors wielded. Among the crew, though, were a number of men Borran Kiosk recognized from their dress as druids. Some of them had animal companions with them, and an owl skimmed through the sky, shining silver-gray in a lightning flash. "Ahoy the ship!" someone yelled from the other vessel. "Identify yourselves!" None of the undead crew aboard Mistress Talia moved. All of them waited for orders from the mohrg. Borran Kiosk flicked his tongue out. Even with the storm continuing unabated around them, he tasted the scent of human flesh and blood staining the winds. It was delicious. "Ahoy the ship!" the same voice repeated, growing angry this time. "Answer up or you'll be paying dearly for your reticence!" The other ship sailed closer, and Borran Kiosk knew that they were well within bowshot. The lanternlight played over Mistress Talia's deck. His undead crewman stared at the flesh and blood crew of the other ship. "Blessed Lady," a man swore aboard the newly arrived ship, "all them there men are dead! That's a crew of dead men aboard her, it is!" The owl circled Mistress Talia, coming in closer. Borran Kiosk pointed at the owl. A green beam lanced from his finger and transfixed the bird. In less than a heartbeat, the owl roiled into a fluff of feathers that blew away on the storm winds. The crew aboard the second ship drew back. Several holy symbols appeared and as many curses as prayers came from their lips. The mohrg leaned on the flying deck's railing and showed the men a confident pose. "I am Borran Kiosk!" he roared above the keening winds that whipped through the sails and rigging. "You know me." Instantly, several beams from bull's-eye lanterns turned in his direction. They stripped the shadows away from him and revealed him for what he was. "It is Borran Kiosk!" someone yelled. "Kill him!" another cried. "Get the wizards out here!" Immediately afterward, dozens of arrows sprang from the bows of men on the second ship. The missiles leaped across the space between the ships and tore into Mistress Talia's deck and sailcloth. Several of the arrows found homes in the undead crew as well. Some of the walking corpses stumbled back a pace or two, but none of them went down. "Get oil up here!" a big warrior yelled. "Get oil up here and we'll burn that damned ship to the waterline! Those undead bastards will go down with it!" Borran Kiosk unleashed a spell, sending an arc of fire streaming from his hand. The fireball deflected off course and shot up into the sky, warring with another brilliant flash of lightning for preeminence in the dark heavens. A tall, gangly man in elegant robes covered in runes strode onto the second ship's deck. He thrust out a hand. In response, the winds picked up strength and smashed into Mistress Talia. Several of the undead crew were blown down, and a handful of others were blown off the deck into the ocean. Overhead, a sail ripped free of its moorings and went fluttering away, disappearing into the darkness. Borran Kiosk clung defiantly to the railing. "No matter what ill fate awaits me," he told Allis, "I will not be taken. I will not be humbled. My vengeance, my bloodlust, will be slaked in the lives of these men and those alive in Alagh?n and all of Turmish. I will survive this." "You'll do more than that," the werespider said, touching his arm. "Look." Borran Kiosk turned and looked in the direction she pointed. At first he saw only a few gleams amid the wall of water approaching them from the ruins of the Whamite Isles, and he assumed they were jellyfishes reflecting the lightning or perhaps debris, wood pieces with nails or other bits of metal driven into them, then he saw them change direction. "It's the drowned ones," Allis said. Doubt lingered in Borran Kiosk, then he felt a fresh infusion of power through the coral glove. "This is your moment, Borran Kiosk," Allis said. "Seize control of the power blessed Malar has put at your disposal." "Borran Kiosk," the wizard aboard the other ship yelled. "Surrender your vessel!" Ignoring the challenge, Borran Kiosk turned to Allis and asked, "Why did this league of wizards you say you work for choose to give this power to me?" Allis hesitated. She glanced toward the other ship and the light from the blazing fire arrows reflected in her eyes. "Kill the monster!" someone from the other ship shouted. "Kill him and be quick about it!" "Why?" Borran Kiosk asked again, moving closer to the werespider. She looked back at Borran Kiosk, defeat in her gaze. "Because they can't use it," she said. "The glove was created by their magic, but only an undead can wear it. They chose you because of your hatred for Turmish, and because Malar instructed them to." "What is your answer, Borran Kiosk?" the wizard on the other ship demanded. Allis glanced past the mohrg, toward the prow of the ship. "You must act quickly, Borran Kiosk," she said, "else the drowned ones will take us down as well." Looking over his shoulder, Borran Kiosk saw the gleam of white bone swimming beneath the black water now. He recognized the bodies of men, women, and children swimming in the sea. They were less than fifty yards from the ships. So intent was the focus of the men aboard the other ship that none of them noticed the arrival of the drowned ones. Something butted into Mistress Talia. Borran Kiosk felt the echo of the impact through the ship's deck. Gazing down into the water, he saw the heads of the drowned ones clustered by the ship. There must have been fifty or sixty of them, with more coming. Lightning seared the sky, and reflections dawned in the dead eyes or in the empty eye holes that gazed up at him. He felt the hunger that drove them, as insistent as his own. "Borran Kiosk!" the wizard on the other ship called out. "This is your last warning. I won't hold these men back any longer." The drowned ones at the waterline began forming a pyramid of bodies. The ones on the bottom stayed motionless while the others started piling on, floating higher and higher as the waves rocked them. Already they were halfway up the side of the merchanter and no one had noticed them. Looking across the water, Borran Kiosk discovered that other drowned ones had started their assault on the other ship as well. The mohrg began the incantation as Allis had instructed. Power surged along the coral glove and Borran Kiosk felt it down to the very center of his being. The drowned ones continued clambering aboard each other, climbing still higher. Men aboard the other ship began yelling. Someone had spotted the drowned ones. Others took up the hue and cry of warning. "Hurry," Allis pleaded. The other ship tried to get underway, but the drowned ones had somehow trapped their anchor in the shallows. Before the sailors could cut or release the anchor chain, drowned ones formed a web of bodies and started clambering over the sides. Borran Kiosk listened to the screams and yells of panic and pain from the other ship's crew as the drowned ones climbed aboard. The sea zombies took incredible punishment at the hands of the crew, but they kept on coming. A number of them advanced on the crew while bearing flaming arrows stuck in their blue-gray torsos. In the light of the lanterns on the other ships, Borran Kiosk got a better view of his proposed subjects. Most of them had been drowned and underwater for a year. All of them showed the blue-gray pallor of death, wore only tatters of clothing if they wore any at all, and had innumerable bloodless wounds that left craters in their dead flesh. When he finished the spell, the shrieks aboard the other ship had reached a crescendo. The ship bucked at the end of its anchor chain like a fish at the end of a line. Lightning flashed across the sky, and in the bright light the blood staining the ship's deck reflected indigo. The head of a drowned one appeared over the railing of Mistress Talia's flying deck. Water dripped from the torn flesh only halfway covering the ivory bone beneath. It opened its jaws just as Borran Kiosk finished the incantation. Allis screamed and backed away as the drowned ones started for her. Borran Kiosk felt the surge of power that filled the glove and himself. He gazed at the drowned ones before him, feeling the link that bound his mind to the animalistic impulses that still survived in them. It was as though Borran Kiosk's mind had suddenly grown larger, expanding tens, hundreds, maybe a thousandfold. If he chose, he could see through their eyes. He joined some of the minds onboard the other ship and saw the frightened faces of men who went down before him. He almost felt their flesh tear as the teeth bit into them, as if those teeth were his own. "Lord Kiosk!" Allis's strained, frightened voice drew him back to his own body. He saw the ravaged features of the drowned one before him, mouth open as it prepared to bite him. A shrimp coiled inside one of its vacant eye sockets. Other drowned ones closed on Allis, gripping her arms as they bore her down to the deck. She was already shifting, turning into a giant spider. As if he'd been doing it for years instead of only having just learned it, Borran Kiosk reached into the minds of the drowned ones that had boarded their ship. "Stop," he commanded. And the drowned ones stopped. Allis shrugged free of those that held her and stood by the mohrg. "You have them," she said, and there was a flicker of disbelief in her opal eyes. Borran Kiosk peered at the drowned one standing dripping in front of him. The mohrg reached out and caressed the dead blue-gray flesh. "Not all of them," he said, "but enough to destroy Alagh?n." He pushed the drowned one aside gently. The creature stepped out of the way and waited there. Back at the railing, intimately aware of all the drowned ones floating in the water around Mistress Talia, Borran Kiosk watched the unmerciful execution of the other ship's crew. Some of the drowned ones were destroyed in the assault, but not nearly enough of them. In a short time, the drowned ones would have eliminated every living thing from the ship. The mohrg only hoped that something remained of the vessel when they finished. He felt filled with wonder as he gazed out over the sea and the ship under attack. He wanted to scream with joy. "They're mine, Allis. I can feel them. I have an army." "As you were promised, Lord Kiosk." Borran Kiosk listened to the screams of the dying men. They sounded good, almost as if he was causing them himself. His bloodlust was fed, but it was nowhere near full. "Alagh?n will be the first to fall, Allis," Borran Kiosk told the woman, "then all of Turmish. And when I have together again the five jewels that make up Taraketh's Hive, I will destroy all the lands that the Emerald Enclave holds precious. I will be unmerciful in my vengeance for all they have done to me." He paused, watching as men died aboard the other ship. "I will kill them all."