The Sentinel

CHAPTER 6

Arietta stood at the Lonely Roamer ’s taffrail, searching a rolling gray sea for a white triangle of sail or the distant flash of the Wave Wyvern’s oars-anything to suggest the Shadovar were pursuing them as Lady Joelle had said they would. She saw only the same forest of square-rigged masts she had been watching for hours now, a fleet of overloaded pinnaces and caravels that had departed Marsember on the same tide as the Lonely Roamer.

In Arietta’s mind, she kept seeing her father’s death, the Shadovar prince looming over him, her father finally finding the courage to reach for his sword. The end had come too quickly to say Duke Farnig had died well, but at least he had not died a complete coward, and she hoped that Lord Kelemvor would judge him less harshly in death than she had in life.

When it came to her mother, Arietta did not know quite what to hope for. Elira Seasilver would be a difficult prisoner at best, and Arietta could not see the Shadovar tolerating such trouble for long. But would they react by throwing a valuable hostage overboard? Or by locking her in the Wave Wyvern’s cramped, sweltering brig? The first was a sure death and the second a fate worse than death, and it made Arietta shudder to imagine her mother facing either.

And it made her sick with guilt. It had been Arietta who had pressured her father to remain in Marsember, Arietta who had delayed the Wave Wyvern’s departure by charging out to help Kleef, and Arietta who had given the Shadovar cause to enter House Seasilver at all. Her thoughts had been filled with fanciful notions of duty and glory, and she could see now how silly she had been, how little she had understood the enemy’s insidious power. Ultimately, her father’s death was on her head-and if the Shadovar killed her mother as well, then that would be on her head, too.

Arietta caught a familiar whiff of decay and turned to see Lady Joelle’s little manservant approaching. She forced a pleasant smile and turned to greet him.

“Back so soon, Malik?” she asked. “It seems you left my side just minutes ago.”

“And so I did,” Malik replied. “But I see how you worry for the grand duke’s wife, and what friend would allow another to fret when it is in his power to ease her mind?”

Arietta eyed the little man warily. “Are we friends, Malik?” she asked. “That seems rather sudden.”

“Perhaps, but I am a shrewd judge of character,” Malik explained. “I can see that my kindness will not be wasted on you.”

“No kindness is ever wasted,” Arietta said carefully. “But you’re right, I do fear for the grand duchess. I see no reason for the Shadovar to spare her.”

“Never make the mistake of believing you know how the Shadovar think,” Malik said. He stopped next to her-just downwind, thankfully-and propped his elbows on the bulwark. “There is only one thing we can count on those dusky fiends to do, and that is to find us when we are the most ill-prepared for it.”

Arietta raised her brow. “And you think that will ease my mind?”

“At least it will help you see there is no use in this endless vigil,” Malik said. “The Shadovar will find us. They always do.”

“That doesn’t mean the duchess will still be alive.”

“But it does not mean she will be dead,” Malik countered. “And you can’t change her fate by standing at this rail all day. By now, the Shadovar have either killed the grand duchess or decided to hold her captive, and the only way to learn which is to find them-and the only way to find them is to wait until they find us.”

Arietta contemplated the assertion, trying think of a faster, surer way to locate the Wave Wyvern. But even if she had known how to track Shadovar across an open sea, an obvious rescue attempt would only place her mother in even greater danger. As much as she hated to admit it, the safest thing was to do as Malik suggested.

Finally Arietta asked, “You’re certain the Shadovar will find us?”

“In this world and this time, only a fool is certain of anything,” Malik said. “But the Shadovar have always found us before, and I see no reason for that to change.”

“How long have they been chasing you?” Arietta asked. “Since you stole the Eye?”

“Almost since we pried it from the idol’s head,” Malik confirmed. “We have been attacked twenty times in forty days. It is a wonder I am still alive.”

“And yet you are still alive,” Arietta observed, “no doubt because you and Lady Joelle are Chosen.”

“No doubt.” Malik’s tone grew resigned and bitter. “It is an undeserved curse that compels us each to do our god’s bidding in all things, and to risk our own lives for the benefit of everyone but ourselves.”

“And you resent the sacrifice?” Arietta asked, genuinely surprised. As a Chosen of Siamorphe, she had always found her position more of a boon than a burden-until now, at least. “How is that even possible? No god would invest power in someone who lacks devotion.”

Malik shrugged. “There are as many manners of devotion as there are gods,” he said. “In the end, all that matters is that we obey.”

“That’s a very bleak view of one’s calling.”

“I serve a bleak god.” Malik turned away, gazing out toward the western horizon. “And if I fail him, I will suffer.”

Arietta started to feel sorry for the little man, if only because she was just beginning to understand the true cost of her own faith. Until earlier that day, her devotion to Siamorphe had seemed a purely personal matter, requiring sacrifices from no one but herself. But in expecting her father to honor those same standards, she had gotten him killed and her mother abducted-and that left her feeling confused and regretful, overwhelmed by guilt and questioning whether she had been right to impose her beliefs on her family.

Her faith was being tested as never before, and she could not help wondering what kinds of sacrifices had been required of Malik, how much worse his suffering had been than her own. Arietta laid her hand on top of his and-despite its cold and waxy feel-gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“You won’t fail in your mission, Malik,” she said. “Once we have seen to the safety of the grand duchess, Carlton and I will be joining you and Lady Joelle-as will Kleef and his watchmen, I’m told.”

“Kleef will?” Malik’s eyes bulged. “Why would he do such a thing? Our journey is a descent into madness!”

Unsettled by the vehement reaction, Arietta removed her hand from Malik’s. “From what I have seen, the entire world is descending into madness.” She glanced amidships, where Kleef was allowing Lady Joelle to pull the stitches from his freshly healed wounds. “Besides, Kleef is a Helm-worshiper. What kind of Watcher would he be if he turned his back on a mission of such importance?”

“A living one!” Malik fell silent until Arietta looked back to him, then he lowered his voice to a near whisper. “You must convince the oaf to abandon this foolish plan. He will only be in the way.”

“In the way of what?” Arietta asked. “Lady Joelle seems quite eager to have him along.”

“Only until she tires of him,” Malik said. “Joelle Emmeline has a heart as fickle as a mountain breeze.”

His bitterness took Arietta by surprise. “Malik,” she asked, “are you jealous of Kleef?”

Malik’s face hardened in resentment. “And what if I am?”

Arietta had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “Malik, it can never happen. Lady Joelle is a gentlewoman, and so stunning she could marry a king.” She shook her head in what she hoped would look like sympathy. “And, Chosen or not, you’re barely suited to be her manservant. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Manservant?” Malik’s eyes bulged. “What do you know? Joelle loves me. She has told me so twice!”

The sharpness in Malik’s voice caused Captain Greatorm, standing in his usual place at the helm, to scowl back over his shoulder. Arietta flashed the gnome an apologetic smile, then turned back to Malik.

“And I’m sure she meant it,” she said softly. “But not in the way you hope-and Kleef has nothing to do with that.”

“Having him gone will certainly make it more likely,” Malik countered. A sly grin came to his plump lips. “And it will be better for you, too. As long as Joelle is near, the oaf will have no eyes for you.”

The remark stung more than it should have. “You believe I would be attracted to a common watchman?” she asked. “You must be joking.”

“Not even a little,” Malik said. “I have seen how your eyes sparkle when he looks in your direction.”

Arietta felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “You’re misinterpreting,” she said. “I have the greatest respect for Kleef’s courage and swordsmanship. That doesn’t mean I’m interested in him romantically.”

“There’s no use denying it,” Malik insisted. “Everyone knows the Chosen can always tell a lie.”

Arietta paused, then said, “I don’t know that at all, Malik. And I am one of the Chosen.”

“You?” Malik shook his head. “I have seen nothing to suggest that.”

Arietta hid her injured pride with a smirk. “Haven’t you?” she asked. “Surely you noticed how bravely the Watch fought today?”

“Who could have missed it?” Malik replied. “Kleef and his men saved my life many times. What does that have to do with you?”

“I’m the one who inspired them,” Arietta said. “Leadership is but one aspect of my divine power.”

“Truly?” Malik looked doubtful. “And here I thought the oaf was their leader. Foolish me.”

“I’m sure Kleef does his best,” Arietta said. “But the Watch is filled with drunkards and cowards. It’s a wonder they arrived to fight at all.”

“Then the sooner I am rid of him, the better it will be for everyone,” Malik said. “You will be doing us all a great service by ordering Kleef to escort you and your … er, Grand Duchess Elira, to a safe place.”

The slip of the tongue was not lost on Arietta. “What makes you think I can give orders to a topsword of the Watch?” she asked. “Or that the grand duchess is my anything?”

“Did I not just tell you the Chosen can always tell a lie?”

“And didn’t I just tell you it’s not true?”

“So you did, but that doesn’t make you right,” Malik said. “How else would I know you aren’t the minstrel Elbertina, as you claim, but Lady Arietta Seasilver herself?”

“I see you’ve noticed how Carlton defers to me.” Arietta’s reply came instantly, for she was well trained in courtly discourse and knew better than to yield an advantage by hesitating. “But being observant is not a god-granted power.”

“Believe what you will,” Malik said. “What I know is more important than how I know it-and whether I mean to share it.”

“And why would I care if you did?”

A sly smile came to Malik’s face. “Because he would.” He glanced forward, to where Kleef and Lady Joelle were still sitting on the hatch cover. “We have both heard what he thinks of the nobility in Marsember.”

Arietta rolled her eyes. “Please,” she said. “I’ve already told you that I have no interest in him-at least not romantically.”

“So you have,” Malik said, grinning. “And I have told you twice that the Chosen can always tell a lie.”

Through his sleep, Kleef heard the familiar thump of a body hitting the floor. It was a common sound in any Watch barracks, where the residents often returned too drunk to find their own beds. But this barracks seemed to be rocking along its length, and Kleef was rolling side to side on hard planks of oiled oak.

A deck, of course.

Next came a long gasping gurgle, and a thick coppery smell that brought Kleef fully awake in an instant. He opened his eyes and saw Rathul lying in front of the Lonely Roamer’s helm, one hand clutched to his neck and a dark stain spreading across the planks beneath him. The ship’s wheel was spinning free, turning slowly starboard, and Rathul’s killer was nowhere to be seen.

Kleef found Watcher’s hilt exactly where he had expected, resting in the palm of his left hand. A blue ray shone from the agate on the crossbar, casting a pale radiance over most of the quarterdeck.

Not helpful.

Being careful to avoid moving his head, Kleef glanced toward the starboard and found a rippling band of shadow pointing across the moonlit sea, to where a brilliant full moon was just sinking below the horizon. Silhouetted in front of the moon was the tiny shape of a vessel with three lateen-rigged masts-many leagues distant but almost certainly the grand duke’s stolen galleass, the Wave Wyvern.

Kleef shifted his gaze forward and saw a trio of men lying on the main deck, swaddled beneath their capes-still asleep, by all appearances. His line of sight to the ketch’s bow was blocked by the Roamer’s helm, so it was impossible to say whether the forward lookout was alive or dead.

When he could not find any sign of Rathul’s killer, Kleef rolled once, then whipped his still-sheathed sword around in a circle. He hit nothing and rolled again, this time banging the hilt on the deck to awaken Joelle and Elbertina, who were sleeping in the cabin below. He stripped the scabbard off the blade and came up on a knee facing the Roamer’s stern, where a dusky figure with steel-colored eyes stood alone, a pace from the taffrail. In one hand he held a curved dagger, Rathul’s blood still dripping from the glassy blade.

“No one else needs to die.” The shade’s voice was soft and raspy, barely more than a whisper. “Perhaps we can trade: my grand duchess for your thieves?”

Instead of answering, Kleef took a moment to glance around and was surprised to see no other Shadovar trying to sneak up on him. He looked back to the first and stood.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I came alone, did I not?”

“And killed one of my men.”

“Two,” the shade corrected. “But only to encourage consideration. Either we trade, or you all die.”

Kleef thought for a moment, then spoke in a voice loud enough to be heard below decks. “I have another offer.” He glanced behind him again, still fearful of an attack and trying to figure out what the shade was really doing there. “Return the duchess and her household unharmed, and I’ll let you live.”

The shade smiled, showing a pair of white fangs. “Not a tempting offer, I am afraid,” he said. “But I think you know that.”

Kleef shrugged. “It’s the best I can do.”

“Not really,” the shade replied. “You could recover the Eye of Gruumsh for me.”

“And let Shar claim all of Toril?” Kleef shook his head. “Not interested.”

“You would find the Mistress of the Night grateful for your help,” the Shadovar said. “And what would you be sacrificing, really? A man who fights like you deserves more than a bunk in the Watch barracks.”

The remark struck more of a nerve with Kleef than he wanted to admit, even to himself. Only officers of the Watch were permitted to take families and live in their own homes, and the lord marshall had made it clear that Kleef would never advance beyond topsword. Had he deserved such a punishment, Kleef might have accepted the sentence without bitterness. But his only crime was being the son of Taggar Kenric, a constal descended from a long line of devoted Helm worshipers who considered it their holy duty to purge the corruption from the Marsember Watch. That Ilgrim Marduth had become the lord marshall of the Watch-just a tenday after Taggar’s death-was evidence enough that the Kenric quest was not going well.

When Kleef did not reply, the shade continued to press his case. “Shar cares nothing for ancient names or aristocratic blood. She values ability above all else, and a man like you … let us just say that when the Mistress of the Night reigns over Toril, nobles will bow to you.”

“That’s a lot to promise,” Kleef said. He didn’t believe the offer for a moment, of course … but there was a part of him that wanted to see Lord Marshall Marduth brought to the justice Kleef’s father had not lived to deliver. “And I’m from Marsember, remember? I’m not that gullible.”

“Your doubts are wise but unnecessary,” the shade replied. “What a Prince of Shade promises, Shar will deliver.”

“A Prince of Shade?” Kleef asked. As he spoke, the soft squeak of a step taking weight sounded from the companionway that led down beneath the quarterdeck. It was barely discernible above the gentle sloshing of waves against the Roamer’s hull, but audible enough to make Kleef worry about the shade hearing it, too. He brought Watcher around in a diagonal guard, angling the blade so the agate cast its pale beam on the shade’s gaunt face. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

Wisps of gray fume rose from the shade’s flesh, but he made no effort to escape the light. “You don’t strike me as someone who is easily impressed,” he said, sheathing his dagger. “That’s why I’m giving you this chance to win Shar’s favor.”

“Thanks, but I’ll have to think about it,” Kleef said, trying to hold the shade’s attention on him rather than the creaking step. “If I decide to accept, which prince do I ask for?”

“There will be no need to ask for me.” The shade pulled a small pale cylinder from inside his cloak and flicked it in Kleef’s direction. “I shall find you.”

Kleef brought Watcher up to block and heard something tink against the flat of the blade, then plunk to the deck. He quickly stepped past the thing, bringing Watcher up in a horizontal attack that found only empty air as the shade retreated-and tumbled backward over the taffrail.

Knowing better than to think the fall had been accidental, Kleef stepped to the far corner of the quarterdeck and cautiously peered over the Lonely Roamer’s taffrail. He saw nothing but darkness and water.

Behind him, Joelle called, “Kleef?”

“By the Nine Hells!” cried a second female, Elbertina.

A confused murmur began to build amidships as the men sleeping on the main deck were awakened by the alarmed voices. Kleef continued to peer over the taffrail, searching the stern of the little ketch for any shadows that didn’t belong.

A gasp sounded somewhere near the helm, then Elbertina asked, “What happened?”

“We had a visitor.”

Kleef turned to find Elbertina kneeling in the blood next to Rathul. Joelle was crossing the quarterdeck toward him. Both women were wrapped in night cloaks, and both held swords in their hands.

“He’s gone back to the Wave Wyvern now,” Kleef continued. “But he claimed to be one of the Twelve Princes.”

“Yder?” Joelle asked. “He was here?”

“He wouldn’t give his name,” Kleef said. “But he had glowing blue-gray eyes.”

Joelle nodded. “Yder. He’s the commander of the guard in the Hall of Shadows in Netheril.”

Falrinn Greatorm emerged from below decks cursing and complaining, and a cry of alarm rose from the bow as one of Carlton’s men-at-arms discovered the body of the forward lookout. Malik was nowhere to be seen.

Ignoring the outburst, Joelle took Kleef’s elbow and asked, “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Kleef pointed to starboard, where the moonlit silhouette of a three-masted galleass sat on the distant horizon. “Yder didn’t come to fight, or the Wave Wyvern would be turning toward us by now.”

“Your man might disagree with that,” Elbertina said, removing her free hand from Rathul’s slit throat. “Though it’s hard to call what happened here a fight.”

Kleef had never had much respect for Rathul during their days on the Watch together. But that had begun to change after he volunteered to help rescue the grand duchess, and the sight of the old man lying dead on the Roamer’s deck both sickened and angered him.

“That’s the point, I think,” Kleef said. “Yder was trying to arrange a trade, and he wanted to convince me I had no choice but to accept.”

As Kleef spoke, Carlton stepped onto the quarterdeck and joined them. Behind him followed Greatorm, who took one look at Rathul’s body and began to mutter about bloodstains. He stepped over the corpse to take the helm, then began to bring them around.

After a moment, Joelle asked, “A trade, Kleef?” Her tone was uneasy. “For what?”

“For you and Malik.” Kleef looked around and, still seeing no sign of the little man, asked, “Where is Malik? Yder couldn’t have-”

“Malik is safe,” Joelle said. “When there’s an attack, his duty is to hide.”

“Very wise,” Elbertina said, almost curtly. She looked back to Kleef. “And what was the prince offering in return? The grand duchess?”

Joelle was quick to shake her head. “Yder knows we’re too smart for that. We can’t even be certain the grand duchess is still alive.”

Kleef remembered the pale cylinder Yder had tossed at him, then turned and spotted the thing rolling across the deck. It was a thin, withered finger inside a large yellow ring. “I think maybe we can.” He pointed at the finger. “Yder threw that at me before he left.”

Elbertina quickly retrieved the finger, and her mouth fell in horror. “It’s still warm.” She turned the ring up to reveal the incised figure of a diving wyvern. “And that’s my … That’s the grand duchess’s signet.”

“So, we do know Her Grace is still alive,” Carlton said. He turned to the helm. “Captain Greatorm, bring us astarboard. We can’t let them escape.”

The gnome looked at Carlton as though he were mad. “I thought they were the ones chasing us?”

“And now that they have found us, we need to move quickly,” Carlton said. “The grand duchess has served her purpose. They may not keep her alive much longer.”

“And that is a reason to mount an impossible attack?” The question came from down on the main deck, where Malik had just emerged from the companionway and stood looking up at the rest of them. “Perhaps you would care to make it easier for them by attempting to swim to the Wyvern in your armor?”

Carlton’s eyes blazed with anger. “I don’t recall asking your advice.”

“But you’d do well to listen to it,” Greatorm said. “He’s right. They’re just trying to goad us into chasing them.”

Kleef shook his head. “I just don’t see that,” he said. “Why would they bother?”

“Because sea chases are never quick and never easy,” Greatorm said. “And you’re sailing with one of the slickest, trickiest captains on the water. All we need to give them the slip is a wisp of fog or a little puff of storm, and they know it.”

“They found us this time,” Carlton pointed out.

Greatorm’s knobby cheeks brightened to crimson. “Because I let them. You said you wanted your duchess back, didn’t you?”

This seemed to confuse even Joelle. “But now that they have found us, you want to keep running?”

“That’s right,” Greatorm said. “If we do this right, we won’t even need to fight those dusky dogs-at least not all of them.”

“You see?” Malik said, looking at Elbertina. “That is why you must always trust the captain of your ship.”

Carlton continued to look skeptical. “What about Her Grace?” He seemed to be addressing his question not to Malik or Greatorm but to Elbertina alone. “I don’t see how running keeps the grand duchess alive.”

“Yder will never kill the duchess-not if we can make him believe he can trade her for the Eye.” Malik tipped his head toward Kleef. “And even an oaf like Kleef can tell a lie that simple.”

Kleef glowered at the insult, but nodded. “I think I can manage that.” He turned back to the others. “What bothers me is that Yder came alone. Why not bring his whole company and be done with it?”

“I don’t know,” Joelle said, flashing a confident smile that suggested just the opposite. “Perhaps because he has been trying to kill us since Big Bone Deep and has not succeeded yet?”

Kleef frowned. “That’s not much of an answer.”

“But one that makes sense,” Joelle said. “He has been chasing us since Big Bone Deep, and we have been escaping him since Big Bone Deep. Perhaps he has realized it’s time to try another tactic.”

“You mean trade,” Elbertina said.

Joelle shrugged. “Perhaps,” she said. “Or perhaps his true intent was something else entirely. With a Prince of Shade, it’s never safe to assume.”

“Which is why we can’t take a chance on Kleef fooling them,” Carlton said. He turned from Joelle to Elbertina. “We need to go after the Wave Wyvern now, while we still have her in sight.”

Carlton didn’t add “my lady” to the end of his sentence, but he might as well have. Clearly, the sergeant was deferring to her judgment-and Kleef could think of only one reason he would do that in a matter concerning the health of Grand Duchess Elira Seasilver.

Kleef turned to the woman he had been addressing as Elbertina. “Arietta?” he asked. “I mean, Lady Arietta?”

The woman nodded. “As a matter of fact, yes. Arietta Elbertina Ifig Seasilver.” She did not appear the least bit embarrassed at having been caught in the lie. “Elbertina is my stage name. I tried to explain that on Deepwater Bridge, but there wasn’t time.”

“So you just kept lying to me?” Kleef was hurt and not quite certain why-and it didn’t matter. Now that he knew her true identity, his duty was clear. “But that changes nothing, of course. I am entirely at your command, my lady.”

Something soft and regretful appeared in Arietta’s eyes, but when she spoke, there was only birthright in her voice. “Thank you, Kleef. I’m certain we’ll get along even better than before.”

“Until we all drown,” Malik replied.

Arietta turned to the little man, her voice harsh. “Truly, Malik? Do you think so little of me?”

Malik looked confused. “Then you are not going to order us to a watery end?”

Arietta glanced back toward the western horizon, where the distant silhouette of the Wave Wyvern continued to float in front of the silver moon. She said nothing for a long time, and her expression grew both sad and determined.

Finally, she looked back to Malik. “Of course not,” she said. “This is Captain Greatorm’s ship, and we should follow his plan.”