A moment passed, and when he finished, he gazed into the lime pit. Laaqueel watched as well, wondering what magery he'd wrought. A low, pain-filled groan escaped from the lime pit. Then, incredibly, the malenti priestess watched as a sticklike figure pushed itself up from the white powder around it.

Skeletal, half-formed bones constructing the basic framework of a human being pushed through the lime powder body. The thing glared up at Iakhovas through the hollows of the half-dissolved skull that sat on the bony neck. The thing's voice when it spoke was a mixture of hoarse, raspy anger and disgust.

"What do you want of me?" the thing demanded.

VII

4 Kythorn, the Year of the Gauntlet

Jherek braced himself as Khlinat drove the wagon team into the irregular line of sahuagin blocking the mouth of the alley that let out into Baldur's Gate harbor. They'd passed most of them already, but the sea devils had taken refuge up against the buildings on either side of the alley, fighting hand-to-hand with citizens predominantly dressed in the Flaming Fist's colors.

The sahuagin group at the end of the alley was wedged too tightly to scatter, and Jherek knew if the dwarf slowed they'd be overrun in heartbeats. The young sailor blocked trident thrusts with his hook and hacked at heads and limbs that got close enough. He'd left at least four sahuagin lying behind the wagon.

The dwarf squalled in anger as a sahuagin grabbed hold of the wagon and tried to pull aboard. Sonshal's arquebus banged as Jherek went to Khlinat's aid. The big bullet cored through the sahuagin's head, punching it back off the wagon.

The horses kept to their pace, urged on by the dwarf slapping leather across their rumps. Their headlong run pushed the sea devils down before them, and their iron-shod hooves dealt grievous and mortal injury. The sahuagin clicked and whistled in pain and surprise, but two of them reacted quickly enough to catch hold of the animals. They popped their claws out and set to their bloody work.

"Swabbie!" Khlinat yelled.

Jherek was already in motion. With sure-footed grace, he stepped out onto the horse's back like it was a deck pitching in a wild storm. He kept himself centered, then dropped onto the horse's back and locked his legs with the skill he'd acquired riding up from Athkatla with the caravan. He swung the sword, coming down and cleaving the sahuagin from crown to chin.

The body twitched and fell away, but the moonlight glinted on the blood streaming from the horse's neck. Jherek realized the animal was dead already and didn't know it. There was no way to staunch the blood flow.

The young sailor turned his attention to the other horse. He reached out with the hook and caught the sahuagin in the muscles that joined the head and shoulder, tearing the flesh cruelly as he found a hold. He yanked and twisted, pulling the sea devil from the horse. One webbed foot pushed against the ground, and the sahuagin sprang at the young sailor more quickly than he thought possible.

Reacting instinctively, Jherek whipped his other hand across and caught the sahuagin in the face with his fist. Pain shot up his arm, but the sea devil went down under the horses' hooves.

They broke through the sea devils at the harbor. Khlinat whipped the horses one last time, hauling them away from the dock, and the carcass of a small cargo ship that had burned nearly to the waterline. The horse beneath Jherek stumbled and almost fell, but fear drove the creature over the harbor's side.

The wagon followed, and Khlinat yelled hoarsely in rebellion and fear, covering over Sonshal's own shouts.

Laaqueel stared at the resurrected dead thing in the lime pit with revulsion so strong it nearly caused her to empty her stomach again. She stood through willpower alone.

Dead things weren't meant to walk. Sekolah's teachings were clear about that. Dead things were meant to be eaten as quickly as possible, whether they were from outside the sahuagin family or from in it. She'd heard stories about the dead being brought back to unlife, about vampires and ghouls, and she'd once been attacked by a group of drowned ones while scavenging shipwrecks with a band of humans she'd spied on and eventually handed over to Huaanton when he'd still been baron.

Iakhovas glared at her and gestured.

Instantly, the quill next to her heart twisted and the nausea went away. At least, the physical effects of it did, leaving her stomach resting quietly. Mentally, she still couldn't stand the sight of the thing waiting quietly in the pit. Surface dwelling priests and priestesses had the ability to turn the undead, as did the hated sea elves, but as a priestess for Sekolah, she had no such ability. The drowned ones had nearly killed her before one of the humans she'd been working with turned them back.

"I would have something from you," Iakhovas told the thing.

"I have nothing."

"It was yours at one time," Iakhovas argued. "I was told it still resided with your body."

The thing ran its misshapen hands over its body. "I was killed and robbed. I don't even remember being brought here."

"Your name," Iakhovas said, "was Cuthbert Drin and you were brother to Halbazzer Drin, the owner of Sorcerous Sundries here in Baldur's Gate."

"I'm in Baldur's Gate?"

"Yes."

The dead thing moved uncertainly. Its face took on features as the rest of it sharpened into shape as well. Laaqueel realized whatever magic Iakhovas had laid on it was continuing to work.

"Release me," the thing ordered, knotting its crooked fingers and hands into fists. "This hurts."

"No," Iakhovas said.

"The time bij-rns!" The dead thing suddenly broke into a frenzy of activity, pacing and scratching itself. In places, the fingers penetrated the lime-covered skin. Tendrils of old blood wormed out, marring the white luster of the lime in the glowing globe's glare.

"Of course it burns," Iakhovas said. "It's a struggle to keep you alive at all."

"You can't keep me like this."

"Yes," Iakhovas said. "I can."

The dead thing moved faster, almost up to a run in the small area. It clawed at the walls of the pit, seeking some way to get out. "What do you want?"

"The ship you had with you on the day you were killed," Iakhovas answered. "It's mine, and I've come to claim it."

"It was taken," the dead thing argued.

"No," Iakhovas replied. "I traced your steps, Cuthbert Drin, through the ordinary means of agents planted here at Baldur's Gate, and through scrying and divining into the past. After I had the facts, I found the moment in time you discovered the bottle high in the Orsraun Mountains near the Vilhon Reach. You and your brother, Halbazzer, found mention of the bottled ship in scrolls that came into your hands at the shop. Even twenty years ago, his rigorous adventuring days were behind him, robbed by the poisoned knife of an assassin hired to kill him. The damage was so great he never fully recovered from the attack. You had the bottled ship the day you died, and your murderers didn't find it."

"How do you know this?"

"I found two of your murderers," Iakhovas said. "I took the time to question them, and I made certain of the veracity of their stories as I stripped their lives from them one layer at a time. Both stories, in the end, were screamed out and agreed on the fact that the killers hadn't seen the bottled ship."

"You know the mystery of the bottle?" the dead thing asked, picking at the lime-encrusted shreds of flesh hanging off it. "Though I tried any number of ways, I never succeeded in opening it. Even the glass wouldn't shatter."

"I know the secret of the bottle," Iakhovas said. "I petitioned the elemental beings who created it, trading with them for their services." He narrowed his single eye and deepened his voice. "Now give it to me or I'll leave you there like that, unable to ever escape the fiery kiss of the lime that ate away your flesh and bones."