Mel Odom - The Lost Library of Cormanthyr

The other hobgoblins drew their weapons and stepped back. Some of them yelled for Chomack to take cover.

"I look in on you today," Krystarn said, "only to offer my congratulations. Your tribe has grown."

"Because I am strong enough to take them," the chieftain roared back.

A ragged cheer broke from the ranks of the hobgoblins. Many of them beat their swords against their shields.

"I also remind you of your promise to me," Krystarn said.

"I will keep it," the hobgoblin growled. "As long as you keep your end of the bargain."

"Chomack," Krystarn said, thinking of the gold and silver that must be secreted away in the library, "I shall give you even more than I promised." She waved over the crystal ball and picked the next ship on her list. Its name was Tsunami Dancer. She had scried it twice before, feeling an empathy within it when she'd searched for Baylee Arnvold.

"Uziraff Fireblade is in the back, but I wouldn't go in there if I was you."

Baylee looked at the whiskered barkeep behind the scarred counter of the Fickle Mermaid. The place was one the ranger vaguely remembered from a time when he and Golsway had been through the area to talk to Uziraff before. The decor was bawdy, featuring a few dozen carved mermaid statues in various forms of debauchery with mermen, humans, and even unicorns. All of the statues had been glued to whatever surface they sat on to keep the tavern's patrons from walking off with them.

"And why not?" Baylee asked.

"He's talking business with someone."

From behind the door to the barkeep's left came the sound of blows being struck, leaving no illusions about what was going on.

“Talking?" Baylee asked. "Or listening?"

The barkeep gave an evil grin. "Uziraff owns the Fickle Mermaid. I don't think anyone could make him listen in here."

Baylee walked around the end of the bar as someone groaned in pain.

The barkeep reached for a belaying pin he kept under the counter. He fisted it and came at Baylee. "I told you stay out of this."

Before the man knew it, Ciwa Cthulad had his long sword at the end of the man's nose. "Unless," the old ranger said in a calm voice, "you wish to learn to start breathing through your ears, step away."

The barkeep went cross-eyed looking at the unwavering sword tip. Conversation across the rest of the bar died as heads turned to the counter. A few men got up, their hands going to their hilts.

"Gentlemen," Cthulad said, addressing the crowd, "I assure you taking part in this would be your greatest mistake. I will kill the first man to interfere with us just to let the ones who follow have no surprise what their fates may be."

"This isn't exactly the quiet kind of entrance I had in mind when we came here," Baylee said in a low voice.

"You dealt the play when you threw the dice," the old ranger replied. "You could have waited till Uziraff was finished with his business."

But Baylee couldn't have, because he thought he knew what kind of business it was that Uziraff was conducting. He watched as the men in the bar stood their ground, wary of Cthulad's sword. Baylee placed his hand on the doorknob and found it locked. He knelt and used a set of lock picks he carried with him, then passed through.

The room on the other side of the door looked nothing like the rest of the bar. A few books lined one wall, a hodgepodge of subjects, titles, and authors. Baylee doubted that Uziraff had read any of them. Niches held other vases and objects d'art, none of them worth much, actually on display in the room for their visual impact. Twisted creatures held men in their grip, sometimes even whole ships. A model of a treant held two humans in its branches while fire surrounded its base.

Generous in floor space, the room held a large desk, two couches, and a half dozen chairs in front of the desk. The first time Baylee had seen the office, he thought it hadn't fit the pirate's reputation.

But today, seeing Uziraff with his knee in the chest of a young man sprawled across that desk, a lead-filled cestus covering one hand, Baylee thought that it looked more representative of the pirate.

"Who dares interrupt me?" Uziraff roared, turning to look over his shoulder at the door. He was a little more than six feet tall, bronzed from the sea and the wind, and his dirty blond hair was pulled back out of his face. Wide gold hoops dangled from his ears. His beard was full, but kept short, following the angles of his face. He wore a red silk shirt and black, heavy-weight breeches that tucked into roll-top boots.

The boy's one eye that wasn't swelled shut stared in rounded terror. Blood covered his bruised and battered face, and ran down his neck. Two men held his arms spread out at his sides.

"You know me," Baylee said. He gestured for Xuxa. The azmyth bat leaped from behind him.

Uziraff didn't move from his victim. The pirate's face twisted in a grimace. "Fannt Golsway's whelp. I've heard the old mage finally got himself killed."

Xuxa landed under one of the supports across the ceiling, hanging upside down. She kept her wings open for immediate movement if necessary. Be careful, she advised.

"Get off that boy," Baylee ordered.

Uziraff didn't move. "This boy stole from me. I was only teaching him a lesson, and deciding whether I should take a hand for my trouble as well."

"And this is the man you're going to deal with?" Cthulad asked quietly, pulling the door closed to the main bar.

"I'll not trouble to tell you again," Baylee said in a cold voice.

"You dare to come here and tell me how to run my affairs?" Uziraff laughed, joined by his men, who started to close in, drawing their weapons.

As quick as thought itself, Cthulad stepped forward. His long sword swept out before him in a series of strokes. Three men lost their weapons, drawing back bleeding hands.

Uziraff abandoned his victim, reaching for the cutlass in the red sash at his waist. "I'll suffer no such treatment of my authority under my roof, old man."

Cthulad turned to face the freebooter. "The boy here wants you left alive. I'll humor him as long as I am able." His long sword rose to an en garde position. 'Though, by nature, I am not a fanciful man, I must warn you."

"Who are you, old man, to come to me in such a threatening manner?" Uziraff demanded.

"I am Ciwa Cthulad, justifier, a known warrior and general of armies. I was raised on combat, schooled in warfare, and have kept a sword as my constant companion for as long as I can remember."

"I have heard of you, Justifier, but usually you are with an army in one nation or the other of the Dalelands. Here you are just one man. Perhaps only a breath short of dying."

"And perhaps even further than that," Cthulad challenged.

Xuxa spread her wings and shrieked, startling several of the pirates into dodging back. Do not forget about me, Uziraff Fire-blade. No one will touch Baylee without paying full measure.

"Let the boy go," Baylee commanded.

"You're not even armed," Uziraff protested.

"That can change. There happen to be a number of swords laying here on the ground. I'm proficient with any style of them."

"What do you want?" Uziraff asked. "I know you didn't come here to save this miserable wretch." He nodded at the boy.

"I came here about the pictograph you found and took to Golsway."

Uziraff s interest showed on his face. "I thought there might be more than Golsway let on." He gestured to the two men holding the boy across his desk.

The men released the boy, who stumbled out of the room. He shot Baylee a look of thanks.

Uziraff took a bar towel from a nearby chair and wiped the blood from the desk. "Sit down and we'll talk."

Baylee took a chair and sat in front of the desk. "I want to find the area where the pictograph came from."