we’re on the right track?”
“If you mean, will we find an old artificer named Tresslar working at Dreadhold who supposedly sailed with Erdis Cai’s crew on their last journey, despite the fact that no other survivors had come forward, then yes. My employers have been aware of the man’s claims since before he joined the warders of Dreadhold, but did the man truly sail with Erdis Cai, and even if he did, does he have any idea of where Cai may be holed up today? I don’t know, but this is the only lead we have, so we must pursue it.”
If anyone could lead them to Erdis Cai, it would be Tresslar, assuming the man wasn’t a lunatic or a liar. The only way to know for certain was to sail to Dreadhold, the toughest, most isolated prison in Khorvaire, and see for themselves.
“Tell me, Yvka, why are you helping us? I was under the impression that the Shadow Network was completely mercenary.”
“If by mercenary, you mean we look after our interests along with those of our clients, then of course. We’re a business like any other, and you’re not one to talk lightly about mercenary motives, Diran Bastiaan. Despite your earlier claim to be a soldier in the Last War, the truth is you were an assassin-for-hire.”
The elf-woman’s tone of derision stung more than her words.
“What you say is true, though for a time I deluded myself into believing that my actions served a greater good than profit. So you’re saying someone has hired the Shadow Network to discover the secrets of the Black Fleet?”
“I didn’t say anything of the sort. Your goals and my goals happen to coincide at the moment.” She glanced at Ghaji’s sleeping form. “Besides, I’m starting to grow fond of your cantankerous friend.”
Diran smiled. “He does have a tendency to grow on you.”
A large dark form broke the water’s surface a dozen yards off the port bow. Both Diran and Yvka tensed, for many large aquatic creatures swam the depths of the Lhazaar Sea, and precious few of them were benign, but the dark shape released a spray of water from a blowhole, and both the priest and the elf-woman relaxed. Just a whale. The animal continued swimming close to the surface as the swift elemental sloop left it behind.
When they’d put a good amount of distance between themselves and the whale, Yvka spoke once more. “I have another question for you, Diran, but given my own reticence to answer yours, I’ll understand if you prefer not to respond.”
“Go ahead and ask.”
“Back at Nowhere, when the thieves tried to steal the Zephyr…”
“Yes?”
“The way you killed that half-elf woman… given your former profession, I’m not surprised that you possessed the skill to slay her with such a dagger throw, but for a priest who supposedly reveres life…”
“You expected a little more mercy.”
“I suppose so, yes.”
Diran thought for a moment as he decided the best way to address Yvka’s concern.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m assuming that you’ve received training similar to mine, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you had occasion to use it.”
Yvka didn’t dispute this, so Diran went on.
“Then you know that it’s much more difficult to subdue a foe than kill him. The half-elf was going to strike Ghaji with an arrow. If I could’ve stopped her without killing her, I would have, but at that range, and with her so close to releasing her arrow, I had to make certain she didn’t harm Ghaji. The only way I could do that was to slay her.”
“You don’t sound particularly remorseful,” Yvka said.
“The woman chose to attempt to steal the Zephyr, and she chose to draw her bow on Ghaji.” Diran shrugged. “I chose to protect my friend.”
“As simple as that, eh?”
A parade of faces flashed quickly through Diran’s mind, the half-elf woman’s the last in a long line. “Killing is never simple,” he said softly.
“Does your faith make it any easier to deal with?” Yvka asked. “Do you truly believe in absolute good and absolute evil?”
“It does and I do,” Diran answered.
“So certain creatures are just inherently evil and must be slain?”
“Since becoming a priest, I’ve encountered all manner of demons, spirits, and undead. Some were most definitely evil and had to be put down. Others fought the evil in their natures but ultimately failed, and there have been a precious few who, while suffering evil’s taint, were able to keep the darkness within them from dictating their actions. Were these latter creatures evil? Some of the more fanatical in my order would deem them so, but I’m not certain.”
“Have you ever spared any such creatures and later regretted doing so?” Yvka asked.
“Only once,” Diran said, “and it nearly cost Ghaji and me not only our lives but also our very souls.”
Once more, he heard Emon Gorsedd’s voice in his mind. You talk a good game, Diran, but we both know that deep down, you’re nothing but a killer. It doesn’t matter if you slay men or monsters, or whether you do it for money or for some abstract ideal called “Good.” You enjoy killing and you’re damn good at it. End of story.
“Enough of such talk,” Diran said, more to himself than to Yvka. “How much farther is it to Dreadhold?”
Yvka looked up at the stars and did a quick mental calculation. “I’d say another four hours, three at the earliest.” She sniffed the air. “A storm’s in the offing, though, and might slow us down some. In any event, you should try to get some sleep, Diran. You’ll need your full strength when we reach Dreadhold.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Yvka, I’d rather stay up. It’ll give you a chance to tell me what I need to know about Dreadhold.”
“As well as prevent your having any more nightmares?” the elf-woman asked.
Diran smiled. “That too.”
“Very well. Dreadhold was first established long ago by Karrn the Conqueror as a facility for exiling deposed rulers and courtiers that fell from favor. Over the centuries…”
CHAPTER
“Wake up, child. We’ve arrived, though I can’t tell you where.”
Makala opened her eyes to darkness. She started to panic, but then she remembered: the voice belonged to the old shifter woman Zabeth, and they, along with numerous others, were being held prisoner in the hold of the raider ship Nightwind.
Makala felt no vibrations in the wood beneath her. Zabeth was right: the elemental galleon had docked.
“How long did I sleep?”
If she knew, she might be able to make a rough guess how many leagues the Nightwind had traveled, though she wasn’t certain what the ship’s top speed was. Before Zabeth could answer her question, there came the sound of a lock pin being pulled back, then a rectangular patch of darkness above them was replaced by stars and a partial view of a moon as the raiders opened the hold’s hatch. Nighttime-that meant she’d been on the Nightwind at least a full day, if not more.
A moment later, a rope ladder was tossed down. Makala entertained a brief fantasy of rushing over to the ladder, climbing up, leaping onto the Nightwind’s deck and strangling the closest raider with the chain between her two wrist manacles, but she knew she was too weak, and she was only one person. Even with all of Emon’s training, she’d likely be killed before she could slay even a single raider, so she sat and waited, Zabeth crouched next to her.
Archers ringed the opening, providing cover for two of their fellow raiders who began climbing down. Neither of the raiders carried a lantern, and no one on the deck shone one into the hold for them. It was difficult to tell in the hull’s gloom, but one raider appeared male, the other female. When they reached the bottom of the ladder,
