'Mister Do'Urden,' he called.
Groowwwllll!
Volo distinctly heard the sound of a jungle cat on the other side of the door.
'Mister Do'Urden,' Volo called louder. 'Are you all right? It's me, Mister Volo, whom you fished out of the drink. My friends and I would like to thank you.'
'One moment,' Drizzt said from the other side of the door.
A moment passed, and then the sound of a bolt and a lock being undone was audible, and the dark elf opened the door and bade Volo to enter.
'Come in,' Drizzt offered. 'Please sit down.'
Volo was astonished at the cramped quarters. Thanks to a ridge in the doorway, most of the water stayed back in the hold, although a puddle was beginning to form by the door. The bare essentials of the efficiency closet were a single rope bunk, a cheat upon which a statuette of some sort was situated, and a tiny porthole that was almost eye level with the sea.
When Drizzt closed the door behind him, the master traveler also noticed a pair of twin scimitars hanging from a hook on the door.
'Handy,' Volo commented.
'But not always necessary,' Drizzt replied, 'particularly when making a rescue at sea.'
Having grown tired of bending forward to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling, Volo took a seat on the chest, next to the statuette, which seemed to be of some sort of panther.
'Pretty,' Volo commented.
'But deadly,' the drow returned.
Volo realized that his presence was making the drow uneasy, and possibly claustrophobic, given the cramped quarters.
'It looks like you are a man of few words, so I just wanted to stop by and say thank you for rescuing my friends,' the master traveler said, beginning to feel oppressed by the dampness and the closeness of the space.
Drizzt pointed out through the porthole.
'I saw you crash through there. I like to look out into the night,' the drow related. 'I knew that the captain wouldn't have seen you…'
'… or cared, for that matter…,' Volo interrupted.
'Oh,' the drow acknowledged. 'So you've met Wolflarson.'
'Charming fellow.'
'Would probably feel right at home in Menzoberranzan, if he were a drow, that is. That's probably one of the reasons I left,' the drow said, 'hut I digress. I launched one of the lifeboats after being sure to attach a safety line back to the ship, and set off after you. Even in the fog you were pretty easy to find.'
'You have good eyes,' Volo complimented.
'Thanks,' said Drizzt. 'It comes with the territory.'
'Well, I just wanted to say thanks,' the master traveler said, reclaiming his stooped stance and heading for the door.
'You are welcome,' the drow replied.
'The captain will let us ashore in Waterdeep.'
'Safe home.'
'The same to you.'
'I can never truly go home again,' the drow said, a measure of melancholy in his voice.
Volo slipped past the drow and out the door, when he stopped, and said, 'I thought I heard the growl of a jungle cat when I knocked on your door.'
'It was only Guenhwyvar,' Drizzt replied, shutting the door after his visitor.
'Oh,' said the master traveler, hearing the bolt being thrown back into place, and not bothering to ask for a further explanation.
'Well, did you thank him?' Shurleen asked as Volo re-entered the main deck's cabin.
'Yes,' Volo replied absently, his mind still on their mysterious savior. 'I didn't stay long. He seems to be a solitary sort.'
'I thought the drow were a cruel and evil race,' Curtis remarked.
'Once again, I guess there are exceptions to every rule,' the master traveler replied.
'I'm just glad he came along when he did,' Passepout added, starting on his tenth cup of broth.
An am I, thought Volo. An am I.
Chapter 22
After Volo had returned to them, the four weary travelers lay wrapped in their dry blankets on the deck and went to sleep in a huddle, like kittens on their keeper's bed.
Morning arrived quickly, and they, awoke to the great relief that their clothes were now dry and neatly folded (by the cabin boy, presumably), and waiting to be donned.
The dwarf captain did not make another appearance, nor was any breakfast offered so the travelers had to make due with the remains of the broth from the night before.
The ship docked at noon, and the foursome quickly disembarked and availed themselves of a hasty snack from a nearby fruit cart that seemed to cater to the harbor workers. Before Passepout had dropped a red gem in place and finished his fourth pear, the Leominster was once again setting out to sea, its captain Wolflarson at the helm, clearly visible from the dock.
'Good-bye, you old sourpuss!' Passepout called, confident that the dwarf couldn't hear him.
Volo looked to the porthole just above the water-line a black drape seemed to have been drawn across it as if to block out the noonday sun. For a second the master traveler thought that he had seen a dark face, but a blink of his eyes to refocus only revealed the black curtain back in place.
'Good-bye, Mister Do'Urden,' Volo whispered. 'I hope you find a new home to return to.'
Shurleen was the first to bring up the obvious question.
'Okay, we're in Waterdeep,' she said. 'So now what?'
'Yeah,' Passepout concurred. 'This fruit is just a snack, and not really likely to tide me over for more than a few minutes. Anyone know any good places to eat?'
Volo adopted a look of mock offense. 'Does anyone know any good places to eat, he asks,' the master proclaimed. 'Am I not Volothamp Geddarm, author of the best-selling travel guide of all times, Volo's Guide to Waterdeep, and is this not that selfsame Waterdeep, the City of Splendors, the metropolis of the north? Of course I know a few good places to eat!'
'So show us, then,' Curtis responded with a hearty laugh.
'Fine,' Volo agreed. 'Follow me!'
The master traveler charged toward the city gates, and his three companions followed, confident that they were in pursuit of only the best accommodations that the City of Splendors had to offer.
Passepout huffed and puffed to keep up with the master traveler. His condition was obviously lighter and healthier than it was when they left Suzail, due to a combination of the ongoing daily exercise of traveling and the travelers' irregular supply of rations (which the still-plump thespian often referred to as slow starvation). But he was still in no condition to run the marathon around Mount Waterdeep, and he urged Volo to slow down.
'Have… a… heart… Mister… Volo…' he huffed, and puffed.
'Sorry,' Volo replied, shortening his stride and slowing his pace just a bit. 'I guess I just got a little carried away, a little overexuberant.'
'Thanks,' the chubby thespian replied. 'Don't you think we should be careful around here?'
'Why?' the master traveler queried. 'This is the City of Splendors. What do I have to fear here?'
