In the Claws of the Tiger (17 page)

“Your Goblin is very good, Janik Martell,” Breddan said in perfect Common. “It is an honor to meet you. I have heard much about you, even before I met Dania this morning. She, of course, is unstinting in her praise of you.”

“Well, thank you,” Janik said, looking from Dania to the hobgoblin. He wondered how Breddan interpreted his relationship with Dania. Just for a moment, he wondered what Dania’s interpretation was.

“Why don’t we sit down and talk, Janik?” she said. “Where were you heading?”

“I was going to look for some breakfast.”

“What are you hungry for, Janik Martell?” Breddan said. “I know Stormreach like my ancestral home.”

“Well, when I’m at home, I like a pastry.”

“I know the best place for pastry, not far from here. Follow me!” Breddan started down the street. Janik arched an eyebrow at Dania, who just smiled and took his arm, pulling him along behind the hobgoblin.

“Breddan has a small sailing ship,” Dania said as they walked.

“Do you?” Janik said.

“A miserable vessel,” Breddan replied over his shoulder, “but with the blessing of the Flame, he will carry you across the Phoenix Basin.”

Janik arched his eyebrow at Dania again, and said under his breath, “So which is he? The ex-pirate or the paladin?”

Dania jabbed her elbow into Janik’s ribs, her lips silently forming a “Sh!” Breddan led them around a corner to a small bakery, and Janik nodded his approval. The smells coming from inside made his stomach rumble, and he never would have found the place on his own. He owed Breddan at least a hearing for that. He bought pastries for everyone, and they sat at a small table to talk.

“So you’re willing to take us across the Phoenix Basin?” he asked Breddan.

“Well, your friend informed me that you could pay well, and I am in need of income,” the hobgoblin replied.

“What’s your story? You carry cargo normally?”

“I would, but few merchants are willing to entrust their goods to my care.”

“Why is that? Your ship is seaworthy, right?”

“It is not my ship that scares away customers, I’m afraid. Many find it difficult to put their faith in an heir of Dhakaan such as myself.” Almost unconsciously, Janik translated the phrase—heir of Dhakaan—into the goblin tongue:
Dhakaan kurrashan
. It was a far more elegant term than the clumsy Common word, goblinoid, and conjured echoes of the ancient glory of the goblin empire. “Many are quick to assume I am a pirate.”

Janik looked away from Breddan, glancing out the window.
He was embarrassed at his own hasty assessment of the captain.

“I made inquiries with the local church of the Silver Flame,” Dania interjected. “They told me they knew of a captain in need of work.”

“The Silver Flame has saved my life, in more ways than one. I was born into slavery here in Stormreach. I did menial tasks aboard a merchant ship, but I watched everything and learned the sailor’s craft. A noble paladin who made a fortune fighting the evil of this dark land bought me and set me free. I found work as a sailor and began to learn the captain’s craft. Eventually I saved enough money to buy my own ship, but since then I have had little work.”

“Let’s talk specifics,” Janik said. “How long will it take to cross the Phoenix Basin?”

“Where exactly is your destination?”

Janik pulled the worn map from his coat pocket and smoothed it out on the table. “We’d like to make land about here.” He pointed to the western end of the Wasted Plain.

Breddan studied the map for a moment. “I do not know the Basin that far south,” he admitted. “I’m not sure reliable charts exist for those waters. What I do know is this—the waters of the Phoenix Basin are deep, and many dangerous creatures make their lairs in its depths. Assuming we do not feed a dragon eel, we should make it most of the way in … hmm, fifty-four days. Then we must negotiate the shallow waters near your destination.”

“I had estimated two months,” Janik said. “I’m glad we agree.”

“And then what? Will you want me to wait at anchor for you to complete your task and return?”

Janik was taken aback. He hadn’t given any thought to what would happen after they returned from Mel-Aqat. He had no
idea what might await them in the ruins, no clue how long it would take to find what they were looking for—whatever it was—and no inkling what to do when they found it.

“I … don’t think so,” he said slowly. “It will take us another two months to cross the Wasted Plain, here, to reach our destination. I really don’t know how long we’ll be gone—and of course, there’s always the possibility we just won’t come back.” He noticed that Dania was listening with keen interest, but he avoided her eyes. “I think it will be best if you drop us off and then return to Stormreach and spend your earnings.”

“I am not a spendthrift,” Breddan said. “But neither am I excited at the prospect of spending four months or more at anchor in the Phoenix Basin. I will return without you. But if I might ask, how will you get back to Stormreach?”

“How big is your ship?” Dania interjected. “Could we carry a keelboat aboard, use it to put ashore, hide it somewhere, and then use it to come back along the coast?”

“My ship carries a launch already,” Breddan said. “We could replace it with something more seaworthy—assuming you are willing to pay for such a vessel.”

“Janik, do you think that would work?”

Janik ran his fingers through his hair, thinking for a moment. “I don’t have a better plan. We might come back and find the keelboat gone, I suppose, but at least that gives us a chance of not making the journey overland. We could store supplies on it for the trip back.”

“Which means less weight on our backs through Mel-Aqat,” Dania said.

“Exactly. Well, Breddan Omaar, what price would you ask for this journey?”

The hobgoblin looked distinctly uncomfortable, and
Janik could understand why. He needed money—he had said as much. And he was within reason to ask for a large sum—so large he was embarrassed to name it.

“Wait,” Janik said. He pulled a blank scrap of parchment from the sheaf of pages in his coat pocket, and found a quill and a bottle of ink in his pocket. He shoved them across the table toward Breddan. “Why don’t you show me your figures?”

Breddan accepted the parchment gratefully, scratched a few numbers in neat columns, and handed it back to Janik. “That amount would cover my expenses and pay for my time.”

Janik forced himself to keep a blank look on his face as he looked at the large sum. It was hardly extravagant—in fact, Breddan had allotted a pittance for his own wage, and had not inflated the numbers to account for the danger of the journey. Even so, it was clear to Janik why they had not traveled this way last time, when they paid for the expedition out of their own pockets. He glanced up—both Dania and Breddan were watching him expectantly. He made some further calculations in his head, then tucked the parchment into his pocket.

“I believe we have a deal,” he announced. Breddan smiled, showing his sharp teeth, and Dania actually clapped her hands in delight. “How soon can you be ready to leave, Breddan?”

The hobgoblin’s smile faded quickly, and he looked down at the table. “Ah, well,” he said. “I wonder if I might request some portion of my payment in advance. My ship needs a good cleaning and some maintenance before undertaking such a long and hazardous journey.”

“I can give you the whole sum up front,” Janik said, shrugging. “I need to pay you at the House Kundarak bank anyway,
and I can’t do that at the end of our journey. Shall we say, a third of it today, and the rest on the day we leave? How long will you need?”

“A third of that sum will be perfectly sufficient,” Breddan said, bowing his head gratefully. “Would a week’s time be too long?”

“My friend,” Janik said, “your ship will save us four to six months of travel. We can afford to wait a week.”

Janik and Dania delivered the good news to Mathas and Auftane, and they all spent the next several days getting ready for the trip—gathering more supplies, rounding up some rare charts of the waters of the Phoenix Basin, and purchasing a keelboat. Janik supervised delivery of the keelboat to Breddan’s ship,
Silverknife
, and got his first look at the ship as the smaller boat was loaded on board. Afterward, he met the others near the docks and they walked together to Forest’s Bounty for dinner.

“When he said she was a miserable vessel, I thought it was Flamer humility,” Janik said, laughing.

“Oh, no!” Dania exclaimed. “Is it really awful?”

“Let me just say that I’m glad he delayed our departure by a week in order to clean and repair her,” Janik said.

“But it’s been five days already,” Mathas said. “Is the vessel seaworthy?”

“Oh, she’s seaworthy. Look, I didn’t mean to worry you all. It’s just—well, we’re not going on a Lyrandar galleon. We’re going to spend two months on a small, cramped, dirty ship.”

“But we all agree that’s better than six months on a keelboat, or eight months on foot, right?” Auftane said.

“Of course,” Dania said, and Janik nodded. Mathas looked unconvinced but said nothing.

The sun had faded from the sky except for a line of purple along the western horizon, silhouetting the stone buildings of the modern seaport and the crumbling ruins of the ancient giant city. High above, one moon hung proudly while seven more clustered at opposite ends of the Ring of Siberys, sliver–thin crescents in the darkening west and rounded gibbous moons in the pitch-black east. The golden motes of the Ring shone bright and clear in a wide band across the sky, larger here than it ever appeared in Khorvaire. Torches blazed along the sides of the nearly-deserted street, dancing wildly in the warm wind off the sea.

An eruption of laughter came from a group of people ahead of them, just short of an intersection. Dania’s hand shot across Janik’s chest as she stopped dead.

“I know that laugh,” she hissed.

“Krael.” The name was a growl in Janik’s throat, and he turned his gaze from Dania to the cluster of people in the distance.

He started walking again, his face set in a scowl as he tried to make out details of the people up ahead. After just a few steps, he spotted Krael, towering above most of his companions by at least a head. One other member of the group was as tall—the warforged assassin. Janik gritted his teeth. At least a half-dozen people trailed Krael—or maybe more like eight or nine. Janik had only four on his side. His heart pounded. His eyes flicked over the others—a few women, one who might have been Tierese—but he did not see Maija. He was only vaguely aware of Dania beside him, grabbing his arm, trying to slow him down, hissing something at him.

“Janik, remember—Krael’s a vampire!” she said, and
finally the words penetrated the rage throbbing in his ears.

It was too late. The others had seen him approaching, and Krael’s companions were spreading out to form a wide semicircle, with Krael and the warforged, Sever, in the middle. Krael stepped forward and spread his arms in a wide gesture of welcome. His massive flail hung on his back, banging against his plate armor as he walked.

“Well, well!” the vampire called across the distance. “If it isn’t my dear friend Janik Martell!”

Y
ou got the name right, Krael,” Janik shouted back. Even as his mind screamed about the danger of walking into the semicircle formed by Krael and his allies, anger drove his feet forward, closer to his adversary.

Krael Kavarat was an enormous man, as tall and muscular as any orc, though his bloodline was pure Karrnathi human as far as Janik knew. He wore a suit of full plate armor which somehow seemed too small to contain his great bulk. He also wore the characteristic helm of an Emerald Claw officer, covering half his face with its stylized clawlike design. He was clean shaven, but blond hair cascaded over his shoulders from beneath the edge of his helm.

“And Dania,” Krael said. “Back in Janik’s company since your Sentinel Marshal met his end in Karrnath?”

“Sentinel Marshal?” Janik said quietly, throwing Dania a sidelong glance. She waved her hand dismissively, keeping her attention focused on Krael.