and new arrivals. Still, up until this moment, he hadn’t spotted the tall, lean, grizzled man fastidiously clad in blacks and grays. Either the old fellow had an exceptional talent for creeping about unobtrusively, or he employed magic to accomplish it.
Or in all likelihood, both, for the newcomer with his wry, shred, weather-beaten face was Teldar, chieftain of the largest faction on Dragon Isle. On previous missions, Anton had seen the legendary freebooter from a distance but never up close.
Like everyone else lucky enough to have a seat, he rose in respect. With a murmur of vague apology to the hairy, amber-eyed hobgoblin he was dispossessing, Teldar appropriated a chair and motioned for everyone else to take his ease. Peg leg thumping the floor, the tavernmaster came rushing with a straw-wrapped bottle of wine and a silver goblet. Apparently he knew from past visits what the great man liked to drink.
The tavernmaster was no sommelier. The shaking he’d given the bottle while conveying it to the table demonstrated that. Still he evidently thought that for Teldar, with his gentlemanly airs, he ought to make an effort. He ceremoniously poured a small measure of red wine into the cup and waited for the old pirate to sip and give approval. Teldar played along with some blather about the bouquet, the aftertaste, and grapes growing on the sunny side of the hill, meanwhile giving Anton a wink. The tavernmaster limped away, beaming.
“Aelthias sailed with me,” Teldar said, “before his injury. A mage aboard a Cormyrean Freesail pretty much burned his leg out from under him, and the healer had to cut off what was left. I helped set him up here.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, Captain,” Anton said.
Teldar waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. You’re the hero of the hour, conducting a successful raid on a Thayan outpost. Or I suppose I should say, one of the heroes. I’m surprised to find you drinking with this lot, fine fellows though they are, instead of celebrating with your shipmates up in Vurgrom’s house.”
Anton frowned as if reluctant to explain. “I had a… disagreement with Captain Clayhill.”
Teldar nodded. “Ah. Well, of course, she’s only just assumed command of Shark’s Bliss. I suspect you’re a more experienced freebooter than she is. Though I don’t believe you and I have met before.”
“Until recently, I sailed out of Mirg Isle. It’s just where I happened to wash up when I decided to try my hand as a gentleman of fortune.”
“That explains it. Is Mirg Isle where you met the shalarin priestess?”
Anton grinned. “Just how long did you lurk about listening to my tale before deciding to reveal yourself?”
Teldar smiled in return. “You must think me a sorcerer like yourself. Not long at all, actually. But all Immurk’s Hold has at least heard rumors of the raid on the Red Wizards. It’s a shame you and your captain fell out after achieving such a coup.”
“I didn’t want to quarrel with the bitch. I simply wanted my due.” He told the tale of his supposed grudge. “We were just talking, and she tried to cleave me in two! When what I’d asked was only the hundredth part of what I deserve!”
Teldar sipped his wine. “What is it you think you deserve?”
“The red caravel. Or, at any rate, some ship of my own. Naturally, Shandri Clayhill and Vurgrom would thereafter receive a share of the prizes I took.”
“You came to Dragon Isle only a few tendays ago. Do you think anyone rises to a captaincy so quickly?”
“I don’t see why not, if he can plan a successful foray against folk as dangerous as the Red Wizards. I’ll wager these lads would sail under my flag.”
Tipsy with the rounds he’d bought them, a number of the pirates cried out in agreement.
Teldar rubbed his shoulders as if trying to work out an ache. Perhaps, spry as he still seemed, arthritis had begun to trouble him. “I suppose that’s my cue to declare that if you’ll join my faction, I’ll give you a ship.”
“I don’t know about that, but I doubt we met here by chance. I believe you have some reason for talking to me.”
“You’re right. But it was to take your measure, nothing more.”
“Well, then: Do I pass muster?”
“You have courage and intelligence, qualities I hold in esteem, and ambition, one I regard with a degree of ambivalence.”
“You must have been ambitious yourself to become the most powerful man in the Pirate Isles.”
“But I’ve never tried to eliminate the other factions here in the Hold. Well, except for when some fool attempted to murder me. I’ve never proclaimed myself ‘pirate lord.’ I’ve never endeavored to bring the corsairs on the other islands under my sway and forge us all into one great brotherhood, a fleet to rival that of Impiltur, Sembia, or any kingdom on the Sea of Fallen Stars.
“I could do it even now, and some days I still feel the temptation. But I remember what happened to Urdo- gen the Red and his ilk. Provoke the lands we plunder, or other proud, ambitious reavers, beyond a certain point, and they’ll go to any lengths to butcher you and all who follow you. Whereas I’ve lived a lengthy, prosperous life.”
Anton spread his hands. “I just want to be a captain like any other.”
“The average captain avoids annoying Red Wizards. It was a splendid accomplishment, and I admire you for it, but we of Dragon Isle may yet pay a toll in blood and misery because of it.”
“I don’t see how. We came under cover of night, aboard one of the Thayans’ own vessels, wearing their own clothes, and killed nearly everyone we found. It would be a good trick to trace us back here.” He paused a beat. “May I speak frankly?”
Teldar chuckled. “I thought you were already.”
“Maybe I am ambitious. I see opportunities. Of late, the gods have blessed the Pirate Isles. Dragon flights have attacked the coastal realms but left us alone. They’ve weakened our prey while we remain strong. Of course I want a ship, now, not months or years hence, to make my fortune while the pickings are easy. More than that, I want to follow a leader with the boldness and vision to commit all his strength to raid whole cities or any target a lone ship couldn’t overwhelm.”
Now Teldar laughed outright. “Are you saying you wouldn’t condescend to accept a ship from me even if I offered?”
“No, sir. I know you’re a great man, the most respected in these isles. Anyone would be proud to join your faction. I’m just saying I mean to look out for myself. To catch the freshest wind that blows my way and snatch every coin that rolls within reach.”
“My house is your house,” said Teldar, “whenever you feel inclined to visit. We’ll talk further. But for now… well, I’m afraid I’ve grown too old and dyspeptic to drink the night away as a pirate should. But you young cutthroats enjoy yourselves.” He rose and dropped a handful of clattering silver on the table.
A cool breeze blew, bearing the damp, salty tang of the sea. Lathander, god of the dawn, had just begun silvering the eastern horizon. Soon Tu’ala’keth would need her goggles. At the moment, though, they dangled from her neck beneath the hooded cloak she’d found in Vurgrom’s house. She hoped that with her face shadowed by her cowl and her crest of fin squashed down, she looked unremarkable in the the itchy, confining mantle.
She prowled from one tavern, brothel, and gambling den to the next, most still roaring despite the hour. Anton was supposed to be in one of them, but she couldn’t go inside to find out which. Her rudimentary disguise was unlikely to deceive even the most inebriated observer at close range.
Finally, up ahead, a big, black-haired man stumbled from a torch-lit doorway. His cape was red with strands of gleaming gray in the weave, and an octopus tattoo writhed its tentacles down his arm. He wandered into the nearest alley and relieved himself against a wall.
Tu’ala’keth strode toward him. “Anton!” she whispered.
His head jerked around. “Oh, it’s you. I truly must be drunk. I didn’t spot you muffled up in all that black.” He fastened up his breeches, turned, and blinked at her. “What in the name of the Lanceboard are you doing here? You and I are supposed to be quarreling, remember?”
Anton had needed a dispute with his shipmates to create the impression he was dissatisfied. Now the other factions would seek to recruit him. In the process, they’d boast of their enterprises, and give him the opportunity to pry into their secrets. Meanwhile, Tu’ala’keth, still a prized and trusted member of Vurgrom’s organization, would find chances to investigate his activities. At some point during the course of it all, she or the Turmian would uncover information that pointed to the Cult of the Dragon’s secret lair.
That was the plan, anyway. But it wasn’t what mattered at the moment.
