Under Fallen Stars (25 page)

Hot spots of color flared on Tynnel’s cheeks. “You’re getting really close to insubordination.”

“Draw a line,” Sabyna told him, “and I’ll step over it just to make sure we both know.”

“Gods, you can be so stubborn at times.”

“Only when I’m right, and you know that.” Sabyna turned to Jherek. “I’ll need help getting back up there.”

“As you wish,” Jherek said.

A smile dawned on her face as she heard his words, and the sight of it shot pain through Jherek’s heart. She was so beautiful and independent, yet she was so far from anything he could ever hope to attain. If she saw the tattoo of Bloody Falkane that he bore, it would be enough to trigger undying hatred on her part.

“As you wish,” she repeated softly. “I’ll try to get some heal potion down here, or at least some salve you can put on that head of yours.”

Jherek nodded. “Thank you, lady, but don’t trouble yourself overmuch. I’m holding up fine,” he said, though he knew he wasn’t. He felt broken inside, and wanted nothing more than a bowl of the soup Madame litaar used to make for him when he was ill back in Velen.

Sabyna said something unladylike, which shocked Jherek. Curse words from the other sailors he was accustomed to, but not from the pretty ship’s mage’s tender lips.

In the next instant, she blurred. Her size reduced and her form changed until only a rat ran toward Jherek’s boots. Unsteady from the fever raging inside him, Jherek leaned carefully down and picked her up. Gently, he grabbed the iron bar overhead and tried to pull himself up, but his strength failed him.

“Here you go, lad.” Hullyn came forward and laced his hands together into a makeshift stirrup.

“Thank you.” Jherek stepped into the big man’s hands and felt himself lifted until he could reach the iron bar. In her rat form, Sabyna quickly scurried away, hesitating at the edge only a moment.

Vertigo seized Jherek as Hullyn lowered him. If not for the big man’s hand on his shoulder, he would have fallen.

“There’s something I want you to keep in mind,” Tynnel told him in a dark voice. His eyes blazed as he regarded Jherek. “If you do anything that makes her choose to step in harm’s way, you’ll answer to me.”

Some of the anger and fierceness that Jherek had come to know in Athkatla and during the caravan trek to Baldur’s Gate hit the young sailor. “I wouldn’t do anything like that, sir.”

Tynnel seemed on the verge of contesting the statement, then he blew out a great breath and turned away. “We’ll see.”

Unwilling to let the man walk away so calmly, Jherek addressed him. “Captain Tynnel, back in Athkatla you told me you’d tell Sabyna that I wouldn’t be coming with the ship. I knew you wouldn’t tell her about the fight, but you explained it so that it sounded like I didn’t even take time to tell her good-bye.”

“And what did you tell her?”

Jherek hesitated. “I carried on with your lie, sir.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to tell her the truth.”

“Neither did I,” Tynnel told him. “I knew if I told you different you might feel you had to see her again.”

Jherek knew it was true.

“Also,” Tynnel went on, “I think somewhat like Aysel in that you are a bad copper that keeps turning up. If you hadn’t been here today, and hadn’t gotten wounded trying to save her, I might have been able to convince her to jump ship and save herself.”

Jherek didn’t agree. He didn’t believe Sabyna would have left any crew member aboard Breezerunner. He didn’t understand why Tynnel laid so much of the responsibility for Sabyna’s actions now on his shoulders.

Weak and shaking, the young sailor walked slowly back to the place he’d been sitting before Sabyna had arrived. His head throbbed and the light lanced his eyes. He closed them and laid his head on his arms, feeling the heat and oily slick-ness that clung to his skin.

Jherek suffered in silence, from the physical discomfort as well as the mental anguish he subjected himself to. He remembered Malorrie’s teachings, part of the platform he’d built for himself to get him through the dark years since leaving his father’s ship. The phantom had always told him to do what needed doing when it needed doing, not to borrow trouble, and to plan for what could be accomplished and not for what couldn’t.

After a time, he slept, and the shark haunted Jherek’s dreams, hunting him ceaselessly.

XIV

Laaqueel swam in Iakhovas’s shadow, having trouble keeping up with him. In the last month since healing after his fight with Huaanton, Iakhovas seemed to become even stronger. The malenti priestess suspected that newfound strength came from one of the items his spies and lackeys constantly searched for. No human could swim as fast as a sahuagin, or a malenti, and no sahuagin could swim as fast as Iakhovas.

She continued to struggle as they arched through the tunnels beneath the sahuagin palace. Sahuagin homes always had numerous entrances, following tunnels that branched in all directions. Mazes were an entertainment as well as a defense for the sahuagin, and the most complex labyrinths were those constructed under the palace.

The malenti struggled to remember the route. Iakhovas never took the same one twice, and she knew there was some deliberate overlapping and repetition in his routes. It was a constant reminder that, though they were joined by Sekolah’s will and the quill next to her heart, Iakhovas would always go his own way.

Make haste, little malenti, Iakhovas taunted. I don’t want to keep my people waiting. It would be unseemly if the Royal High Priestess wasn’t at her station when I made my announcement.

What announcement? Laaqueel swam harder, flaring out the webbing between her toes and fingers to better catch the water. Still, she couldn’t close the distance. It was unsettling seeing him in his human form easily setting a pace she found grueling.

Patience, little malenti. I know events in Baldur’s Gate sapped some of our reserves and even the savage nature of the sahuagin is daunted. I’ve made preparations to fix that. Trust me, they will be reinspired today.

Suspicion shot through Laaqueel. Since his meeting with the Nelanther pirates, Iakhovas had been brimming with energy and mystery. He took a final turn in the tunnel he was following, waiting until he was almost upon it.

Drawn by the wake he’d left, Laaqueel strove to make the corner but couldn’t. She slammed into the rough wall, abrading her skin. Biting back a cry of pain, she pushed off the wall and continued her pursuit of Iakhovas.

Another turn and he shot straight up, coursing through yet another tunnel. Laaqueel watched him leave the opening above, flashing swift as an arrow.

As soon as he cleared the opening, Iakhovas spread his arms. Knowing he looked like a sahuagin male to her people, Laaqueel recognized the bit of posturing on his behalf. A sahuagin’s fins would have flared out, standing briefly at attention. His arrival was graceful and impressive, showing that he was every inch the predator.

Laaqueel left the tunnel and entered the large chamber behind the amphitheater throne. She heard the clicks and whistles of the crowd and knew that the gladiatorial games that had been scheduled were underway. She’d been informed of them but had chosen to stay in her chambers until she’d been sent for.

Iakhovas alighted on his feet. Instantly the Royal Black Tridents closed in around him, barely giving Laaqueel room to take her place at his side. Iakhovas glanced at her with his single eye. Down in the dark pit of the empty socket, she thought she saw something metallic.

“You’ve changed your attire since our raid,” Iakhovas said.

“Yes.” Laaqueel didn’t explain why she’d started wearing the hated human clothing. She couldn’t really explain it to herself. Most of it had to do with how Bloody Falkane had flaunted his sexual aggression, and how it had affected her. It had, however, served her to notice that Iakhovas was aware of her nudity even though he’d never tried to act on it. The feeling was extremely awkward. She’d never before experienced any of the emotions or confusion the two men now generated within her.

There was something about Bloody Falkane, though, that had stayed with her. Sometimes at night she felt his lips still on hers, burning like the poisonous touch of a vinanquelt. It wasn’t enough to cause pain, but it had disrupted her sleep patterns. Only prayers had ever done that before.

The possibility of an alliance with him was never too far from her mind. It could put her on more equal footing with Iakhovas. Though she knew attempting such an alliance would anger Iakhovas, she also thought the cunning and cruel part of him would respect her efforts.

Iakhovas led the way out to the terrace overlooking the amphitheater. He took his seat and the Royal Black Tridents spread out around him. Laaqueel stood at his side.

Below, on the swirl pattern of the amphitheater floor, nine captured surface dwellers fought an afanc. The blue-gray beast had a vicious wedge-shaped head and a mouthful of teeth, made even more distinctive by the long whiskers. Resembling a fish in structure, it was nearly fifty feet long and often was mistaken for a whale because of its size.

Laaqueel knew Iakhovas had chosen nine humans on purpose. The number meant much among the sahuagin culture. There were nine barons, and power was assumed to come from that number.

The humans fought because they had no choice. Armed with tridents, they tried to stay low to the ground. If they’d tried to swim up, the afanc would have easily picked them off.

Finning itself into a frenzy, the afanc began swimming in circles above the group. Faster and faster it sped, until a whirlpool took shape in the water. The funnel danced across the checkerboard amphitheater floor, twisting with quick, darting leaps that scoured the tiles. Debris formed bands inside the whirlpool.

The humans tried to flee, seeing the danger too late, but the whirlpool caught them. The suction ripped them from the floor, pulling them up into the open. As the humans whipped around the outer edges of the dancing whirlpool, the afanc swam in quick lunges and ripped them free in its jaws. When the creature crunched its prey, blood flowed into the water. In less than a minute, all nine surface dwellers were gone.

The sahuagin in the stands shouted out in savage glee.

Iakhovas let them have their moment, then he stood and held his hands out for attention. He waited until every eye was on him, then said, “My people, long have I prayed over our future. I have asked not for mercy from Sekolah for We Who Eat, for that would be foolish. I have asked for strength. We need to be strong, stronger than we have ever been before. Our destiny lies before us, shrouded in human flesh and human death. It is from them that we must rip what is our due according to the will of the mighty Shark God.”

His words carried powerfully over the amphitheater. Laaqueel felt moved by them, and was certain that no matter what Iakhovas thought he was doing, Sekolah was working through him.

“Our losses were great at Baldur’s Gate,” Iakhovas said. “Many of our warriors fell in battle, but that, too, is the way Sekolah wills. Our path cannot be easy, not if we are to remain worthy of our heritage. Sekolah found us and shaped us into warriors.” He paused. “No, he molded us in his wisdom into the best warriors.”

A resounding cheer went up in the amphitheater. Laaqueel watched her people, knowing Iakhovas had them in the palm of his hand.

“We strike fear into the hearts of any who dare stand in the way of We Who Eat,” Iakhovas continued. “As we should for now and for always. We took their lives that night, just as we did in Waterdeep, and we’ve become stronger because of our losses.”

Out in the amphitheater, the afanc finished chasing down the stray bits of bodies left floating in the water. None of the sahuagin guards ventured forth for any of the choice morsels so tantalizingly close.

“Some of you may think we should halt for a time in our war against the surface dwellers,” Iakhovas said, “but that would only be giving in to weakness.”

Silence reigned in the amphitheater, and Laaqueel knew no one dared dispute Iakhovas’s words.

“We were born to fight and die.” Iakhovas looked out over the gathered sahuagin. “To do any less would be forsaking all that we know. So now I tell you that I’ve been told to guide you to a new battleground, a place where we can strike even more terror into the hearts of the accursed surface dwellers.”

Laaqueel listened, trying to guess where Iakhovas would next send them. There were always the lands of the Shining South and the Empires of the Sands. Both of those regions conducted a lot of sea trade.

“I was given a dream,” Iakhovas went on, “of a sea far from here. An inland sea held hostage by the hated humans.”

Consternation spread throughout the ranks of the sahuagin. Laaqueel felt her heart slow, but the quill pricked it and it resumed its normal rhythm.

Be at ease, little malenti. I know what I’m doing.

“And in this inland sea, called Seros by those who live there, I have seen thousands of our people held captive in subjugation. It falls to us to find them and free them from the trap the humans laid for them.”

More noise erupted through the ranks, and Laaqueel knew Iakhovas was dangerously close to losing the crowd. Hardly any of the sahuagin had ever heard of an inland sea. To hold the very sea itself captive was unthinkable, an aberration they would struggle to even understand or believe.

“It’s true!” Iakhovas roared. “No one may doubt my word, the word of your king!”

Instantly, most of the noise died away, but Laaqueel knew the implied threat didn’t quell the confusion within her people.

“I will lead you there,” Iakhovas said, “and we will find our people. A way will be made for us to achieve this, our greatest of destinies. Once again, our people will be made whole, no longer separated by the ignorance the hated surface dwellers would wish on us. I give you this, my promise, and I stand on it in the blood of combat to prove to you that Sekolah watches over our actions.”

Before anyone knew what was going on, Iakhovas leaped from the terrace and swam out into the amphitheater. The afanc noticed him at once and began finning toward him.