Every jolt and roll of the ship sent shivers of atavistic terror through him. How humans and elves put up with sea travel, he would never know. The feeling was too much like that of the first shivers of an earthquake, that unpredictable and devastating force that was every dwarf's deepest fear. Being on a ship was a constant, terror- filled waiting for the damn quake to start.
The rolling motion, and the unrelieved state of expectant dread, kept the dwarf's belly in turmoil. Ever since they'd left that cesspool of a port in this floating excuse for a coffin, Ebenezer hadn't been able to keep much down.
Not that he'd stopped trying. When Bronwyn found him, he was doggedly spooning up salty chowder.
She crouched beside him. 'The ship's food is terrible,' she commiserated.
'Aye,' he agreed sourly, regarding the small bowl is his hands. 'And the portions are pretty damn skimpy.'
For some reason she found this amusing, but she sobered quickly as she sat down beside him. 'We're making good progress. Captain Orwig was able to bribe the Gate Keepers in Skullport and learn where they sent the ship we're seeking.
Ebenezer nodded. He remembered all too well the trip up from the subterranean port through a series of magical locks. 'How much longer, do you figure?'
'This caravel is fast and light. The ship we're chasing is single-masted, with a deep hold for cargo. It was fully loaded. According to the captain, if we keep to the course the Keepers gave us, we should outrun it soon. If not today, then surely tomorrow.'
'Good,' the dwarf said stoutly. He wiped the bowl clean with a bit of hard biscuit, which he popped into his mouth. 'Like the old saying goes: Nothing settles the stomach like the scent of an enemy's blood.'
'I missed that one,' Bronwyn murmured. 'Must be strictly a dwarven proverb.'
It seemed to Ebenezer that she sounded a mite peaked. He looked keenly at her. 'You're looking green around the gills, yourself. Sea travel don't agree with you, I take it.'
'No.'
Her grim, curt answer hinted at a tale. A tale, Ebenezer suspected, that might do her some good to tell. 'So, this wouldn't be your first voyage, then?'
'Second.' She glanced at the dwarf, her expression forbidding. Clearly, she didn't want to take this particular tunnel.
But Ebenezer was not easily put off. He nodded expectantly, inviting the tale. When that yielded no result, he leaned forward slightly and pointedly raised his eyebrows.
With a sigh, Bronwyn capitulated. 'I was taken south on a ship after the raid on my village. I was, maybe, three or four at the time.'
'Stones,' he muttered. The thought of a child, any child, being submitted to the terror of a sea voyage set Ebenezer's blood simmering with rage. Which, in his opinion, was a big improvement over a churning belly. Danged if he shouldn't a-got riled up early on in this voyage, and stayed that way. 'Hard thing, especially on a kid that age,' he said darkly.
'It was.' She fell silent for a moment. 'I never actually saw the sea.'
Ebenezer's gaze dipped down to the endless silvery waves. He gulped and yanked his attention back up to the billowing clouds that dotted the sky. 'No loss there.'
'There's bad, and there's worse,' Bronwyn pointed out. 'At least this trip, I have a choice. On my first voyage I was kept in the hold, along with maybe a dozen or so other prisoners.'
Imprisonment. The dwarf didn't quite manage to suppress a shudder. 'That's worse,' he admitted.
They sat in silence for a few moments. Ebenezer caught Bronwyn looking in the direction of his belt, and tracked her gaze down to his 'wine skin.' He had replaced it in Skull-port. The Burning Troll, whatever its other shortcomings as a tavern might be, kept dwarven spirits in stock. He untied the string that held the skin to his belt and handed it to Bronwyn. She uncorked it and took a long, fortifying swig. To Ebenezer's surprise, she swallowed the strong spirits- known among dwarves as 'molten mithral'-without a cough or a sputter. He didn't know a human who could do that, leastwise, not without practice. Maybe, he mused, she had had more than a little experience with dwarves and their ways. Later he'd probably be tempted to ponder on that a mite.
Bronwyn corked the skin and handed it back with a nod of thanks. 'For some reason, I was the only prisoner not chained. They treated me well enough, I suppose. I had enough food, a blanket, and a corner of my own to sleep in, and even a couple of toys. The others were destined for slavery-they spoke of it, wept over it. I don't think I was. Not at first.'
'What happened?' the dwarf prompted.
'There was a storm,' she said shortly. 'A terrible storm that tossed the ship around like a leaf. The mast snapped, and some of the planking tore loose. The hold took on water.'
She shuddered from the memory. 'I climbed as high as I could onto a pile of crates. Everyone else was chained. I could do nothing but watch as they drowned, slowly, screaming and cursing like creatures damned to the Abyss.' Her voice dropped to a near whisper, husky with the remembered horror.
'Hard thing on a kid,' the dwarf repeated.
'Nothing else in the hold survived except me-and a few rats. They could climb, too, and they found any footing they could. By the time the water rose to my chin, there weren't many places left for them to perch.'
Ebenezer suspected what was coming, and muttered a heartfelt oath. He stopped himself, just barely, from reaching for her hand.
'Two of the rats climbed onto my head. They fought each other for the right to be there. Nothing I could do would dislodge them.' She smiled faintly. 'When my hair is wet, and parted just so, you can still see the scars.'
She drew in a long, ragged breath. 'The sea calmed suddenly. I learned later that we had been caught in the wake of a waterspout, thrown off course and into the path of some Nelanther pirates. Without the mast, the ship could neither fight nor flee. Most of the crew were killed. The pirates seized the valuables and took all the survivors to be sold as slaves. It was night then,' she added, 'and there was no moon. That's why I never once saw the sea.'
Ebenezer sat bolt upright. 'So you ended up a slave after all?'
'That's right. This time, I was chained. The rest of the trip is a blur. I vaguely remember the marketplace, and standing on the block while people gawked and poked. I was sold. There is a dark cloud over the next bit. I think I was resold, or maybe I escaped and was recaptured. I really don't remember.'
She sighed, and to Ebenezer's eyes she looked exhausted and drained by the recounting. He was sorry he had asked, but glad to know just the same. A good thing, it was, to know the measure of your friends.
That measure he could summon up in one short statement. 'And after all that, you came out on this ship.'
Their eyes linked in understanding. After a moment, the dwarf reached for her hand. Her long, fragile human fingers intertwined with his stubby digits. They sat together, gazing up at the cloud castle that floated gently past and at the silver sea beneath. It didn't bother Ebenezer quite so much now to see the heaving sea. His own kin most likely didn't have his kind of choice in the matter. As Bronwyn had said, there was bad, and then there was worse.
Algorind arrived in Waterdeep footsore and dusty. His boots had been made for riding, and the soles were nearly worn through by his days of walking. His once-white tabard was dingy with the dust of the road. He hated to present himself at the gates of the Halls of Justice in such a state, but his brothers must learn of Thornhold's fate.
He hurried through the streets. As before, he was struck by the noise and the crowds. How did men of Tyr hold fast to their faith, surrounded by such distractions and decadence? It puzzled him why the brothers would see fit to build the Halls of Justice in the heart of this teaming city. Better the remote hills, or the purity of a windswept mountaintop.
The gatekeeper at the Halls of Justice looked him up and down with obvious disapproval.
'It is most urgent that I speak with Sir Gareth,' Algorind said. 'Please bear word to him that Algorind of Summit Hall begs audience.'
'Summit Hail, is it?' the guard said, his face showing a bit more warmth. 'You'll be in good and abundant
