“A battle-axe fer the dwarves, of course,” Bulokk said. “Master Oskarr kept that himself.”
“A sword for the humans,” Quarrel said. “That went to Dulaun.”
“Wait,” Cap'n Farok said. “I thought ye said the three of them didn't know each other before the Battle of Fell's Keep.”
“I didn't think they did,” Wick admitted. “But when we researched ships' logs of vessels that traded on a regular basis with the Cinder Clouds Islands, we discovered that Dulaun shipped aboard
Wavecutter
as a boy and worked his way up in command. He was first mate when Master Oskarr gave him the sword.”
“Why would Oskarr give such a blade to a young human?” Cap'n Farok asked.
“I don't know.”
“In the stories about Dulaun,” Alysta put in, “it's said that the sword was given to him by a dwarven blacksmith for an act of bravery. But the stories don't name the blacksmith or say what that act was.”
“In the legends of the Cinder Clouds Islands dwarves, it's said that Master Oskarr gave the finest sword he ever made to a human who rescued his son from a sea monster,” Bulokk said.
“When he was just a young man, before he made captain, Dulaun is supposed to have slain a sea monster that very nearly killed him,” Quarrel said. “I only now remembered that story. There are so many.”
“Aye,” Bulokk said. “I know what you mean. All the way back from the Library down that windin' mountain trail, I had somethin' at the back of me head. Just couldn't pry it loose. Till now.”
“So those two weapons are explained,” Cap'n Farok said. “But why weren't the stories intertwined before now?”
“Because of what happened at the Battle of Fell's Keep,” Craugh answered. “The defenders there were betrayed and overrun by the goblinkin. Master Oskarr was blamed for it.”
“Because Dulaun died there, and lost Seaspray,” Quarrel said bitterly.
“Why not blame Sokadir?” Cap'n Farok asked.
“Because,” Wick said, flipping open the journal he'd made of all the research he'd done on the vidrenium and the weapons, “Sokadir lost his two sons there.” He showed Cap'n Farok and the rest the illustration he'd made of the brave elven warder and his two sons.
“So Master Oskarr was the only one who didn't lose anything?” Cap'n Farok asked.
“If you don't count his warriors,” Wick said.
“An' his honor an' his good name,” Bulokk said in a quiet voice.
They all sat quiet and sober for a time. Despite the fact that he wanted to be abed more than anything, Wick reached for another of the sugar biscuits Cook had made and slathered it with apricot jelly. It tasted just as good as the first one. A full stomach also made him want to sleep. During the last three days of frenzied research, he knew he'd eaten, but it had only been when he'd gotten sick from not eating. He hardly remembered anything he'd had.
“What about Sokadir?” Cap'n Farok asked. “How did he come by Deathwhisper?”
“I don't know.”
Cap'n Farok's brow wrinkled. “What do ye mean ye don't know?”
Wick hesitated for a moment. This was the part of the story that he most hated.
“The metal bow reinforcements were stolen from the Cinder Clouds Islands,” Craugh said.
Leave it to you to put a bald face on it
, Wick thought sourly. In truth, though, he knew there was no other way to state what had happened.
“Stolen?” Cap'n Farok asked. “By who?”
“We don't know,” Craugh said.
Cap'n Farok pulled at his beard irritably. “Ye don't mean to suggest that it was Sokadir?”
“He did end up with the bow,” Bulokk said.
“Mightn't it be another bow?”
“Wick got me ancestor's books out of the forge.” Bulokk nodded at Wick. “There was a drawin' of the bow reinforcements.”
“Blueprints,” Wick said automatically. “I didn't catch it the first time through. It doesn't look like a bow. But the powers in the bow, what it's supposed to do, fit what Deathwhisper does.”
“Didn' Master Oskarr recognize the bow at the Battle of Fell's Keep?” Cap'n Farok asked.
“I don't,” Wick said quietly, “see how he could not have.”
Silence hung heavily in the room when he finished the story.
“Well then,” Cap'n Farok said, “I suppose we'll just have to ask Sokadir how he came by that bow when we find him.”
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When he finally got to sleep a short time later, Wick slept nearly a day and a half. He could translate the word
exhaustion
in dozens of languages, write it in almost as many, but he didn't think he'd ever truly comprehended what it was to be exhausted until after the marathon at the Vault of All Known Knowledge. He couldn't believe how tired he was.
After the first day, he tried to get up but only succeeded in staying up long enough to use the privy and get a drink of water. Then he was once more abed and nothing woke him.
Through it all,
One-Eyed Peggie
sailed relentlessly, canvas spread high and wide to catch as much of the wind as she dared, spending half a day fighting a storm that seemed to follow them as surely as a predator that had their scent. Hallekk later told Wick that the ship had foundered a couple of times and her deck had been awash with the Blood-Soaked Sea. Wick was only too glad to have slept through that.
When he finally got up, he found that his time was off and it was the middle of the night, not morning. Starving now, he retreated to the galley and whipped up a batch of cinnamon-flavored oatmeal and a rasher of bacon, then took servings to the two dwarves standing at the helm.
They thanked him and started spooning the oatmeal up before the cold wind whipping across the sea cooled it.
“What's our course?” Wick asked.
Telafin, the helmsman, answered. “Craugh says Boneslicer an' Seaspray are still in Torgarlk Town. We're headin' there.”
That was curious. Since Gujhar and Ryman Bey had reached Torgarlk Town, they hadn't left. Or maybe they'd left but the weapons were there for safekeeping.
Of course, there was always the possibility that the weapons were in town as bait in a trap.
Torgarlk Town
W
ick watched Craugh in disbelief.
The wizard slung a bedroll over his shoulder, then crossed it with a waterskin. He put on his hat last, then took a fresh grip on his staff.
“
You're
going to go?” Wick asked when he could hold the question no longer.
Craugh just looked at him. Then he walked toward the gangplank that connected
One-Eyed Peggie
to the pier.
“Good luck, Craugh,” Cap'n Farok called down from the stern castle.
“Thank you, Captain Farok,” Craugh responded, glancing up for just a moment, then setting his sights on Torgarlk Town again.
Wick turned to Cap'n Farok. “You're going to just
let
him go? Alone?”
“It's not like I have any choice, Librarian Lamplighter,” Cap'n Farok said. “Craugh has made his wishes known.”
Staring at Craugh, who had already reached the pier, Wick couldn't understand all the confusion that was racing through him. For the last two days that he'd been conscious, he'd worked in his journals and tried not to think about the fact that Craugh was going to send him into the middle of the outlaw town.
After all, Torgarlk Town wasn't as bad as Wharf Rat's Warren, but the citizens there condoned slavery (primarily of dwellers) and traded with goblinkin (which was generally only done for slavesâdwellersâand spices to season the bounty in their stewpotsâdwellers who could no longer swing a pickaxe in a mine).
Trade caravans from Never-Know Road stopped by there to do their illicit business (contraband goods that were smuggled in without benefit of paying the local king's tax, and slaves), then continue on to other coastal towns farther north.
Nightmares had plagued Wick's last two nights when he'd contemplated being kicked out into the middle of Torgarlk Town.
He'd never once considered staying behind when Craugh went off alone.
I should be relieved
, he thought. Unfortunately, he wasn't. He looked at the bedroll he'd assembled for himself.
And what if Craugh gets captured or killed? Will I ever know the end of the story if that happens
? He knew he wouldn't. If a wizard (especially one of Craugh's caliber!) couldn't walk into Torgarlk Town and take what he came for, then no one aboard
One-Eyed Peggie
had a chance.
So he wouldn't know. Could he live with that?
As he mulled over the question, watching Craugh stride purposefully between the cargo handlers, passengers, and merchants scattered over the dock, Wick knew that living with the question wasn't the only problem.
Despite his faults and his mean-spirited nature, Wick had a friendship with Craugh. None of the acquaintainceships he had back at the Vault of All Known Knowledge or in Greydawn Moors even came close to what he shared with Craugh. Nor did his friendships with the captain and crew of
One-Eyed Peggie
or with Brandt and Cobner and the others.
Craugh was all Wick had left of Grandmagister Ludaan. Despite the fact that there would be no living with Grandmagister Frollo upon Wick's return to the Vault of All Known Knowledge, Wick didn't want anything to happen to the wizard.
Wick looked up at Cap'n Farok.
The old sea captain smiled at him, nodded, then raised his hand in farewell. “May the Old Ones keep watch over both of you.”
“Thank you,” Wick said, and bolted for his gear. He had it in his hands and was bounding down the gangplank. From the corner of his eye, he saw Quarrel and Bulokk start to follow.
“No,” Cap'n Farok said sternly. “The last thing Craugh needs is the two of ye flounderin' around out there an' givin' away there's strangers hangin' about. Ye'll stay aboard
Peggie
an' waitâlike the rest of us.”
Wick knew Quarrel and Bulokk wouldn't take the order kindly, but they'd meet Cap'n Farok's demands. He didn't break his stride, didn't glance over his shoulder. At the bottom of the gangplank, he stepped into the crowd and started making his way through them.
People didn't give way to a dweller the same way they did for Craugh. Thankfully, with the peaked slouch hat atop his tall frame, the wizard was simple to follow.
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Wick trotted through the street and kept Craugh in sight. He wasn't sure if the wizard knew he was there or not, but Wick didn't believe it was that easy to follow him without him knowing.
They ascended the cut steps along the ledges. Most of the structures there
were two-storied combinations with shops on the bottom and personal dwellings on the second floor.
Wick tried to follow close enough to Craugh that anyone looking at him would believe he was the wizard's personal servant, but not so close that Craugh could hear him. If the wizard didn't already know he was there. He also made sure that he didn't make eye contact with anyone. On the mainland, those who lived in rough towns weren't used to having dwellers look them in the eye. It was simple subterfuge, but an effective one.
However, it didn't always work.
“Halfer,” a fat man with a broadsword on his hip called out. He was as impressively tall as he was fat, and had a hard look about his piggy eyes.
Wick tried to ignore the man and keep going. That worked for about two steps, which was when the fat man inserted himself directly into Wick's path.
“Halfer,” the man said in a vexed tone, “I'm talking to you.”
Having no choice with the fat man blocking the way, Wick stopped. He stared at his toes. To distract himself, he wiggled them in the dirt, making sure he wouldn't glance up.
“What are you doing here?” the fat man growled.
“Following my master,” Wick answered.
The fat man looked at Craugh. “I don't see any masters here. At least, I don't see your master.”
Wick didn't say anything, hoping the big man would just let him pass.
Moving with speed and grace, the big man grabbed the front of Wick's shirt and yanked him from his feet. “I didn't say you could go, now did I?”
“Please.” Wick continued staring at his feet. “I have to keep up with my master.”
“The old man with the pointy hat? Hah! He appears to barely have the wherewithal to be master of himself.” The fat man started laughing, bending down close to Wick so that all the little Librarian could see was his corpulent mass. Then there was the sound of an impact and the fat man's face screwed up tight in pain.
Wick saw the staff up between the man's legs where it had struck. Realizing the man was falling forward, Wick quickly stepped back. The human fell like a massive oak out in the forest, taking his time with it. He dropped to his knees first and tried to catch hold of Wick with his hands. Then he fell forward on his face and got sick.
The nearby pedestrians spread out from Wick and the fat man, who moaned in pain but still reached for his sword. Craugh stepped up and rammed the bottom of his staff into the fat man's chins.
“Don't,” Craugh said softly, but his voice was like silk-covered steel. “It wouldn't hurt my feelings to leave your body here for whatever carrion-feeder comes along that isn't particularly finicky about what it eats.”
The fat man's hand dropped away from the sword.
“That,” Craugh said, “was for being disrespectful in talking about me. I've got keen ears, and not much mercy left in me these days.” He flicked his eyes to Wick. “Come.”
Wick shouldered his bedroll again and skirted the fat man to stand at Craugh's side.
“Don't let me catch sight of you again.” Craugh gave the staff a final shove that started a coughing fit. Then he turned and strode along the cobblestoned street.
Wick followed. He kept waiting for Craugh to yell at him, but the wizard ignored him and headed for the nearest tavern. Three horses, all of them road weary and covered in dust, stood tethered at the railing. A carved statue of a bear on its hind legs stood beside the door.
Craugh entered the tavern and stood for a moment. The wizard stopped so suddenly that Wick almost ran into him. The little Librarian slid back a step or two and peered around Craugh's russet-colored robes.
“Welcome to The Big Ol' Bear's Tavern,” an old man behind the scarred bar greeted.
Craugh nodded. “A table, if you please.”
The tavernkeeper guided them to a table in the back and drew two ales at Craugh's direction, then departed quickly after the wizard paid him. Craugh reached into his pipe pouch, took out his pipe and filled it, then smoked a wreath around his head. He never once looked at Wick.
Wick sat across from him at the table. The chair wasn't made for a dweller. As a result, his legs dangled off the floor several inches and made him feel like a child.
I should have stayed on
One-Eyed Peggie, he told himself morosely.
Better still, I should have stayed at the Vault of All Known Knowledge
. Only that would have been no good as well. With Grandmagister Frollo only lately turned back from toad to human, things wouldn't have gone well there, either.
“Why?” Craugh asked finally.
Wick blinked at him. Why was such an open question. He'd learned to hate it while teaching Novices about the cataloguing of books. The answer to their
whys
most of the time was simply because that was the way the Grandmagisters wanted things done.
“Why what?” Wick asked.
Craugh frowned at him. “Why did you choose to accompany me when you could have remained on the ship?”
“I made a mistake,” Wick said, thinking that was what the wizard wanted to hear.
“Then you can correct that mistake. Go back to
Peggie
.”
For a moment, Wick considered getting up from the table and doing exactly that. Then he thought about the weapons they were searching for and the opposition they could be up against. He remembered most clearly Sokadir's rage at his appearance in his thoughts.
“I can't,” Wick said.
“You can,” Craugh said crossly. He waved his pipe toward the door. “I just gave you permission to take your leave.”
Wick steeled his spine (though it still felt awfully brittle) and sat up a little straighter. “That isn't what I wish to do.”
“What is it you wish, Librarian Lamplighter?”
Wick thought about that, sensing that he had to choose his words carefully. Craugh was not an easy man to know, though Grandmagister Ludaan had seemed to know him well.
“I wish to see the end of this,” Wick said finally. “Bulokk stepped away from everything he's ever known in an effort to rectify his ancestor's honorâ”
“And his own, to a degree,” Craugh pointed out.
“Yes. Quarrel and Alysta have given their lives so farâAlysta even sacrificed her bodyâtrying to get their ancestor's sword back.”
“They also want to continue a legacy,” Craugh said.
“I know.”
“They have personal motivations to risk their lives. What is it that brings you to the brink of death?”
Wick blinked.
“For I can assure you that's what we're talking about here.”
Taking a deep breath, Wick tried to calm the fear that clamored inside him. One thing he knew for certain when many other things seemed confused was that he wanted to live. He still hadn't finished that Taurak Bleiyz romance. “You talked about how important it was to find out what happened at the Battle of Fell's Keep. Do you truly believe that, or were those just pretty words you dropped in front of me to make me more amenable to what you wanted me to do?”
Craugh said nothing.
“Cap'n Farok believes in what you said,” Wick went on, unable to bear the silence. “So does Hallekk. The crew of
One-Eyed Peggie
has laid their lives on the line to find out the truth.” He paused and took another breath. “Even if you were just lying for your own ends, what you said was true. The goblinkin are rising in numbers and intent. One day they may try to rise up in the south again and pour north along the Shattered Coast. If they do, the land will once more run red with blood. I don't want to see that happen.”
“You can't stop the coming war. The goblinkin have seen they can have more than they've ever had before. They won't be satisfied with what they have now.”
Wick was acutely conscious of the fact that a number of goblinkin sat around other tables in the tavern. A few of them even appeared to be giving them undue attention.
“What those three weapons can do,” Wick said, “what the truth can do, is help the humans, elves, and dwarves once more join forces. Knowing what happened at the Battle of Fell's Keep can remove a lot of hostile feelings.”