The big man was only a stride away. Josi Puddles saw him coming too late. Squeamish Josi hunched against the wall, trying to cover up, but Wulfgar had him in an instant, lifting him with one hand, batting away his feeble attempts to slap with the other.
Then, slam, Josi went hard against the wall.
"I want it back," the barbarian said calmly. To poor Josi, the measure of serenity in Wulfgar's voice and his expression was perhaps the most frightening thing of all.
"Wh-what're ye lookin' t-to find?" the little man stuttered in reply.
Still with just one arm, Wulfgar pulled Josi out from the wall and slammed him back against it. "You know what I mean," he said, "and I know you took it."
Josi shrugged and shook his head, and that bought him another slam against the wall.
"You took Aegis-fang," Wulfgar clarified, now bringing his scowl right up to Josi's face, "and if you do not return it to me, I will break you apart and assemble your bones to make my next weapon."
"I . . . I . . . I borrowed it . . ." Josi started to say, his rambling interrupted by yet another slam. "I thought ye'd kill Arumn!" the little man cried. "I thought ye'd kill us all."
Wulfgar calmed a bit at those curious words. "Kill Arumn?" he echoed incredulously.
"When he kicked ye out," Josi explained. "I knew he was kickin' ye out. He told me as much while ye slept. I thought ye'd kill him in yer rage."
"So you took my warhammer?"
"I did," Josi admitted, "but I meant to get it back. I tried to get it back."
"Where is it?" Wulfgar demanded.
"I gave it to a friend," Josi replied. "He gave it to a sailor woman to hold, to keep it out of the reach of yer call. I tried to get it back, but the sailor woman won't give it up. She tried to squish me head, she did!"
"Who?" Wulfgar asked.
"Sheela Kree of Leapin' Lady," Josi blurted. "She got it, and she's meanin' to keep it."
Wulfgar paused for a long moment, digesting the information, measuring its truth. He looked up at Josi again, and his scowl returned tenfold. "I am not fond of thieves," he said. He jostled Josi about, and when the little man tried to resist, even slapping Wulfgar, the barbarian brought him out from the wall and slammed him hard, once, then again.
"We stone thieves in my homeland," Wulfgar growled as he smashed Josi so hard against the wall the building shook.
"And in Luskan we shackle ruffians," came a voice to the side. Wulfgar and Josi turned their heads to see Arumn Gardpeck exit the establishment, along with several other men. Those others hung far back, though, obviously wanting nothing to do with Wulfgar, while Arumn, club in hand, approached cautiously. "Put him down," the tavernkeeper said.
Wulfgar slammed Josi one more time, then brought him down to his feet, but shook him roughly and did not let go. "He stole my warhammer, and I mean to get it back," the barbarian said determinedly.
Arumn glared at Josi.
"I tried," Josi wailed, "but Sheela Kree-yeah, that's her.
She got it and won't give it over."
Wulfgar gave him another shake, rattling the teeth in his mouth. "She has it because you gave it to her," he reminded Josi.
"But he tried to retrieve it," Arumn said. "He's done all he can. Now, are ye meanin' to bust him up for that? Is that to make ye feel better, Wulfgar the brute? For suren it won't help to get yer hammer back."
Wulfgar glared at Arumn, then let the look fall over poor Josi. "It would, indeed, make me feel better," he admitted, and Josi seemed to shrink down, trembling visibly.
"Then ye'll have to beat me, as well," Arumn said. "Josi's me friend, as I thought yerself to be, and I'll be fighting for him."
Wulfgar scoffed at the notion. With a mere flick of his powerful arm, he sent Josi sprawling at Arumn's feet.
"He telled ye where to find yer hammer," Arumn said.
Wulfgar took the cue and started away, but he glanced back to see Arumn helping Josi from the ground, then putting his arm around the trembling man's shoulders, leading him into the Cutlass.
That last image, a scene of true friendship, bothered the barbarian profoundly. He had known friendship like that, had once been blessed with friends who would come to his aid even when the odds seemed impossible. Images of Drizzt and Bruenor, of Regis and Guenhwyvar, and mostly of Catti-brie flitted across his thoughts.
But it was all a lie, a darker part of Wulfgar's deepest thoughts reminded him. The barbarian closed his eyes and swayed, near to falling over. There were places where no friends could follow, horrors that no amount of friendship could alleviate. It was all a lie, friendship, all a facade concocted by that so very human and ultimately childish need for security, to wrap oneself in false hopes. He knew it, because he had seen the futility, had seen the truth, and it was a dark truth indeed.
Hardly conscious of the action, Wulfgar ran to the door of the Cutlass and shoved it open so forcefully that the slam drew the attention of every one in the place. A single stride brought the barbarian up to Arumn and Josi, where he casually swatted aside Arumn's club, then slapped Josi across the face, launching him several feet to land sprawling on the floor.
Arumn came right back at him, swinging the club, but Wulfgar caught it in one hand, yanked it away from the tavernkeeper, then pushed Arumn back. He brought the club out in front of him, one hand on either end, and with a growl and a great flex of his huge neck and shoulders, he snapped the hard wood in half.
"Why're ye doin' this?" Arumn asked him.
Wulfgar had no answers, didn't even bother to look for them. In his swirling thoughts he had scored a victory here, a minor one, over Errtu and the demons. Here he had denied the lie of friendship, and by doing so, had denied Errtu one weapon, that most poignant weapon, to use against him. He tossed the splintered wood to the floor and stalked out of the Cutlass, knowing that none of his tormentors would dare follow.
He was still growling, still muttering curses, at Errtu, at Arumn, at Josi Puddles, when he arrived at the docks. He stalked up and down the long pier, his heavy boots clunking against the wood.
"Ere, what're you about?" one old woman asked him.
"The Leaping Lady?" Wulfgar asked. "Where is it?"
"That Kree's boat?" the woman asked, more to herself than to Wulfgar. "Oh, she's out. Out and running, not to doubt, fearing that one." As she finished, she pointed to the dark silhouette of a sleek vessel tied on the other side of the long wharf.
Wulfgar, curious, moved closer, noting the three sails, the last one triangular, a design he had never seen before. When he crossed the boardwalk, he remembered the tales Drizzt and Catti-brie had told to him, and he understood. Sea Sprite.
Wulfgar stood up very straight, the name sobering him from his jumbled thoughts. His eyes trailed up the planking, from the name to the deck rail, and there stood a sailor, staring back at him.
"Wulfgar," Waillan Micanty hailed. "Well met!"
The barbarian turned on his heel and stomped away.
"Perhaps he was reaching out to us," Captain Deudermont reasoned.
"It seems more likely that he was merely lost," a skeptical Robillard replied. "By Micanty's description, the barbarian's reaction upon seeing Sea Sprite seemed more one of surprise."
"We can't be certain." Deudermont insisted, starting for the cabin door.
"We don't have to be certain," Robillard retorted, and he grabbed the captain by the arm to stop him. Deudermont did stop and turned to glare at the wizard's hand, then into the man's unyielding eyes.
"He is not your child," Robillard reminded the captain. "He's barely an acquaintance, and you bear him no responsibility."
"Drizzt and Catti-brie are my friends," Deudermont replied. "They're our friends, and Wulfgar is their friend. Are we to ignore that fact simply for convenience?"
The frustrated wizard let go of the captain's arm. "For safety, Captain," he corrected, "not convenience."
"I will go to him."
"You already tried and were summarily rejected," the wizard bluntly reminded him.
"Yet he came to us last night, perhaps rethinking that rejection."
"Or lost on the docks."
Deudermont nodded, conceding the possibility. "We'll never know if I don't return to Wulfgar and ask," he reasoned, and started for the door.
"Send another," Robillard said suddenly, the thought just popping into his mind. "Send Mister Micanty, perhaps. Or I shall go."
"Wulfgar knows neither you nor Micanty."
"Certainly there are crewmen aboard who were with Wulfgar on that voyage long ago," the stubborn wizard persisted. "Men who know him."
Deudermont shook his head, his jaw set determinedly. "There is but one man aboard Sea Sprite who can reach out to Wulfgar," he said. "I'll go back to him, then again, if necessary, before we put out to sea."
Robillard started to respond but finally recognized the futility of it all and threw up his hands in defeat. "The streets of Luskan's dockside are no haven for your friends, Captain," he reminded. "Beware that every shadow might hold danger."
"I always am and always have been," Deudermont said with a grin, a grin that widened as Robillard walked up to him and put several enchantments upon him, spells to stop blows or defeat missiles, and even one to diffuse certain magical attacks.
"Take care of the duration," the wizard warned.
Deudermont nodded, thankful for his friend's precautions, then turned back to the door.
Robillard slumped into a chair as soon as the man had gone. He considered his crystal ball and the energy it would take for him to operate it. "Unnecessary work," he said with an exasperated sigh. "For the captain and for me. A useless effort for an undeserving gutter rat."
It was going to be a long night.
"And do you need it so badly?" Morik dared to ask. Given Wulfgar's foul mood, he knew that he was indeed taking a great risk in even posing the question.
Wulfgar didn't bother to answer the absurd question, but the look he gave Morik told the little thief well enough. "It must be a wondrous weapon, then," Morik said, abruptly shifting the subject to excuse his obviously sacrilegious thinking. Of course Morik had known all along how magnificent a weapon Aegis-fang truly was, how perfect the craftsmanship and how well it fit Wulfgar's strong hands. In the pragmatic thief's mind, even that didn't justify an excursion onto the open sea in pursuit of Sheela Kree's cutthroat band.
Perhaps the emotions went deeper, Morik wondered. Perhaps Wulfgar held a sentimental attachment to the warhammer. His adoptive father had crafted it for him, after all. Perhaps Aegis-fang was the one remaining piece of his former life, the one reminder of who he had been. It was a question Morik didn't dare ask aloud, for even if Wulfgar agreed with him the proud barbarian would never admit it, though he might launch Morik through the air for even asking.
"Can you make the arrangements?" an impatient Wulfgar asked again. He wanted Morik to charter a ship fast enough and with a captain knowledgeable enough to catch Sheela Kree, to shadow her into another harbor perhaps, or merely to get close enough so that Wulfgar could take a small boat in the dark of night and quietly board the privateer. He didn't expect any help in retrieving the warhammer once delivered to Kree. He didn't think he'd need any.
"What of your captain friend?" Morik replied.
Wulfgar looked at him incredulously.
"Deudermont's Sea Sprite is the most reputable pirate chaser on the Sword Coast," Morik stated bluntly. "If there is a boat in Luskan that can catch Sheela Kree, it's Sea Sprite, and from the way Captain Deudermont greeted you, I'll wager he would take on the task."
Wulfgar had no direct answer to Morik's claims other than to say, "Arrange for a different boat."
Morik eyed him for a long while, then nodded. "I will try," he promised.
"Now," Wulfgar instructed. "Before the Leaping Lady gets too far out."
"We have a job," Morik reminded him. Running a bit low on funds, the pair had agreed to help an innkeeper unload a ship's hold of slaughtered cattle that night.
"I'll unload the meat," Wulfgar offered, and those words sounded like music to Morik, who never really liked honest work. The little thief had no idea where to begin chartering a boat that could catch Sheela Kree, but he much preferred searching for that answer, and perhaps finding a few pockets to pick along the way, to getting soggy and smelly under tons of salted meat.
Robillard stared into the crystal ball, watching Deudermont as the captain made his way along one wide and well-lit boulevard, heavily patrolled by city guards. Most of them stopped to greet the captain and offer praise. Robillard understood their intent though he couldn't hear their words through the crystal ball, which granted images only and no sound.
A knock on the door broke the wizard's concentration and sent the image in his crystal ball into a swirl of foggy grayness. He could have retrieved the scene immediately but figured that Deudermont was in no danger at that time, especially with the multitude of defensive spells the wizard had cast over the man. Still, always preferring his privacy, he called out a gruff, "Be gone!" then moved to pour himself a strong drink.
Another knock sounded, this one more insistent. "Ye must see this, Master Robillard," came a call, a voice Robillard recognized. With a grunt of protest and drink in hand, Robillard opened the door to find a crewman standing there, glancing back over his shoulder to the rail by the boarding plank.
Waillan Micanty and another seaman stood there, looking down at the docks, apparently speaking to someone.
"We've a guest," the crewman at Robillard's door remarked, and the wizard immediately thought it must be Wulfgar. Not sure if that was a good thing or bad, Robillard started across the deck, pausing only to turn back and shut his door in the face of the overly curious crewman.
"You're not to come up until Master Robillard says so," Micanty called down, and there came a plea for quiet from below in response.
Robillard moved to Micanty's side. The wizard looked down to see a pitiful figure huddled under a blanket, a tell-tale sign, for the night surely wasn't cold.
"Wants to speak to Captain Deudermont," Waillan Micanty explained.
"Indeed," Robillard replied. To the man on the wharf he said, "Are we to let every vagabond who wanders in come aboard to speak with Captain Deudermont?"
"Ye don't understand," the man below answered, lowering his voice and glancing nervously about as if expecting a murderer to descend upon him at any moment. "I got news ye're needin' to hear. But not here," he went on, glancing about yet again. "Not where any can hear."
"Let him up," Robillard instructed Micanty. When the crewman looked at him skeptically, the wizard returned the stare with an expression that reminded Micanty of who he was. It also demonstrated that Robillard thought it absurd to worry that this pitiful little man might cause mischief in the face of Robillard's wizardly power.
"I will see him in my quarters," the wizard instructed as he walked away.
A few moments later, Waillan Micanty led the shivering little man through Robillard's cabin door. Several other curious crewmen poked their heads into the room, but Micanty, without waiting for Robillard's permission, moved over and closed them out.
"Ye're Deudermont?" the little man asked.
"I am not," the wizard admitted, "but rest assured that I am the closest you will ever get to him."
"Got to see Deudermont," the little man explained.
"What is your name?" the wizard asked.
The little man shook his head. "Just got to tell Deudermont," he said. "But it don't come from me, if ye understand."
Never a patient man, Robillard certainly did not understand. He flicked his finger and sent a bolt of energy into the little man that jolted him backward. "Your name?" he asked again, and when the man hesitated, he hit him with another jolt. "There are many more waiting, I assure you," Robillard said.
The little man turned for the door but got hit in the face with a tremendous magical gust of wind that nearly knocked him over and sent him spinning to again face the wizard.
"Your name?" Robillard asked calmly.
"Josi Puddles," Josi blurted before he could think to create an alias.
Robillard pondered the name for a moment, putting his finger to his chin. He leaned back in his chair and struck a pensive pose. "Do tell me your news, Mister Puddles."
"For Captain Deudermont," an obviously overwhelmed Josi replied. "They're looking to kill 'im. Lots o' money for his head."
"Who?"
"A big man," Josi replied. "Big man named Wulfgar and his friend Morik the Rogue."
Robillard did well to hide his surprise. "And how do you know this?" he asked.
"All on the street know," Josi answered. "Lookin' to kill Deudermont for ten thousand pieces o' gold, so they're sayin'."
"What else?" Robillard demanded, his voice taking on a threatening edge.
Josi shrugged, little eyes darting.
"Why have you come?" Robillard pressed.
"I was thinkin' ye should know," Josi answered. "I know I'd want to be knowin' if people o' Wulfgar's and Morik's reputation was hunting me."
Robillard nodded, then chuckled. "You came to a ship-a pirate hunter-infamous among the most dangerous folk along the docks, to warn a man you have never met, knowing full well that to do so could put you in mortal danger. Your pardon, Mister Puddles, but I sense an inconsistency here."
"I thinked ye should know," Josi said again, lowering his eyes. "That's all."
"I think not," Robillard said calmly. Josi looked back at him, his expression fearful. "How much do you desire?"
Josi's expression turned curious.
"A wiser man would have bargained before offering the information," Robillard explained, "but we are not ungrateful. Will fifty gold pieces suffice?"
"W-well, yes," Josi stuttered, then he said, "Well, no. Not really, I mean. I was thinkin' a hunnerd."
"You are a powerful bargainer, Mister Puddles," Robillard said, and he nodded at Micanty to calm the increasingly agitated sailor. "Your information may well prove valuable, if you aren't lying, of course."
"No, sir, never that!"
"Then a hundred gold it is," Robillard said. "Return tomorrow to speak with Captain Deudermont, and you shall be paid."
Josi glanced all around. "I'm not comin' back, if ye please, Master Robillard," he said.
Robillard chuckled again. "Of course," he replied as he reached into a neck purse. He produced a key and tossed it to Waillan Micanty.
"See to it," he told the man. "You will find the sum in the left locker, bottom. Pay him in pieces of ten. Then escort Mister Puddles from our good ship and send a pair of crewmen along to get him safely off the docks."
Micanty could hardly believe what he was hearing, but he wasn't about to argue with the dangerous wizard. He took Josi Puddles by the arm and left the room.
When he returned a short while later, he found Robillard leaning over his crystal ball, studying the image intently.
"You believe him," Micanty stated. "Enough to pay him without any proof."
"A hundred copper pieces is not so great a sum," Robillard replied.
"Copper?" Micanty replied. "It was gold by my own eyes."
"So it seemed," the wizard explained, "but it was copper, I assure you, and coins that I can trace easily to find our Mister Puddles-to punish him if necessary, or to properly reward him if his information proves true."
"He did not come to us searching for any reward," the observant Micanty remarked. "Nor is he any friend of Captain Deudermont, surely. No, it seems to me that our friend Puddles isn't overly fond of Wulfgar or this Morik fellow."
Robillard glanced in his crystal ball again, then leaned back in his chair, thinking.
"Have you found the captain?" Micanty dared to ask.
"I have," the wizard answered. "Come, see this."
When Micanty got near to Robillard, he saw the scene in the crystal ball shift from Luskan's streets to a ship somwhere out on the open ocean. "The captain?" he said with concern.
"No, no," Robillard replied. "Wulfgar, perhaps, or at least his magical warhammer. I know of the weapon. It was described to me in depth. Thinking that it would show me Wulfgar, my magical search took me to this boat, Leaping Lady by name."
"Pirate?"
"Likely," the wizard answered. "If Wulfgar is indeed on her, we shall likely meet up with the man again. Though, if he is, our friend Puddles's story seems a bit unlikely."
"Can you call to the captain?" Micanty asked, still concerned. "Bring him home?"
"He'd not listen," Robillard said with a smirk. "Some things our stubborn Captain Deudermont must learn for himself. I will watch him closely. Go and secure the ship. Double the guard, triple it even, and tell every man to watch the shadows closely. If there are, indeed, some determined to assassinate Captain Deudermont, they might believe him to be here."
Robillard was alone again, and he turned to the crystal ball, returning the image to Captain Deudermont. He sighed in disappointment. He expected as much, but he was still sad to discover that the captain had again traveled to the rougher section of town. As Robillard focused in on him again, Deudermont passed under the sign for Half-Moon Street.
Had Robillard been able to better scan the wide area, he might have noticed two figures slipping into an alley paralleling the avenue Deudermont had just entered.
Creeps Sharky and Tee-a-nicknick rushed along, then cut down an alley, emerging onto Half-Moon Street right beside the Cutlass. They dashed inside, for Sharky was convinced that was where Deudermont was headed. The pair took the table in the corner to the right of the door, evicting the two patrons sitting there with threatening growls. They sat back, ordering drinks from Delly Curtie. Their smug smiles grew wider when Captain Deudermont walked through the door, making his way to the bar.
"He no stay long witout Wufgar here," Tee-a-nicknick remarked.
Creeps considered that, deciphered the words first, then the thought behind them and nodded. He had a fair idea of where Wulfgar and Morik might be. A comrade had spotted them along the dock area earlier that night. "Keep a watch on him," Creeps instructed. He held up a pouch he had prepared earlier, then started to leave.
"Too easy," Tee-a-nicknick remarked, reiterating his complaints about the plan Creeps had former earlier that day.
"Aye, but that's the beauty of it, my friend," said Creeps, "Morik's too cocky and too curious to cast it away. No, he'll have it, he will, and it'll bring him runnin' to us all the faster."
Creeps went out into the night and scanned the street. He had little trouble locating one of the many street children who lurked in the area, serving as lookouts or couriers.
" 'Ere boy," he called to one. The waif, a lad of no more than ten winters, eyed him suspiciously but did not approach. "Got a job for ye," Creeps explained, holding up the bag.
The boy made his way tentatively toward the dangerous-looking pirate.
"Take this," Creeps instructed, handing the little bag over. "And don't look in it!" he commanded when the boy started to loosen the top to peek inside.
Creeps had a change of mind immediately, realizing that the waif might then think there was something special in the bag-gold or magic-and might just run off with it. He pulled it back from the boy and tugged it open, revealing its contents: a few small claws, like those from a cat, a small vial filled with a clear liquid, and a seemingly unremarkable piece of stone.
"There, ye seen it, and so ye're knowin' it's nothing worth stealin'," Creeps said.
"I'm not for stealin'," the boy argued.
"Course ye're not," said Creeps with a knowing chuckle. "Ye're a good boy, now ain't ye? Well, ye know o' one called Wulfgar? A big fellow with yellow hair who used to beat up people for Arumn at the Cutlass?"
The boy nodded.
"And ye know his friend?"
"Morik the Rogue," the boy recited. "Everybody's knowin' Morik."
"Good enough for ye," said Creeps. "They're down at the docks, or between here and there, by my guess. I want ye to find 'em and give this to Morik. Tell him and Wulfgar that a Captain Deudermont's lookin' to meet them outside the Cutlass. Somethin' about a big hammer. Can ye do that?"
The boy smirked as if the question were ridiculous.
"And will ye do it?" Creeps asked. He reached into a pocket and produced a silver piece. Creeps started to hand it over, then changed his mind, and his hand went in again, coming back out with several of the glittering silver coins. "Ye get yer little friends lookin' all over Luskan," he instructed, handing the coins to the wide eyed waif. "There'll be more for ye, don't ye doubt, if ye bring Wulfgar and Morik to the Cutlass."
Before Creeps could say another word, the boy snatched the coins, turned, and disappeared into the alleyway.
Creeps was smiling when he rejoined Tee-a-nicknick a few moments later, confident that the lad and the extensive network of street urchins he would tap would complete the task in short order.
"He just wait," Tee-a-nicknick explained, motioning to Deudermont, who stood leaning on the bar, sipping a glass of wine.
"A patient man," said Creeps, flashing that green-and-yellow toothy smile. "If he knew how much time he got left to live, he might be a bit more urgent, he might." He motioned to Tee-a-nicknick to exit the Cutlass. They soon found a low rooftop close enough to afford them a fine view of the tavern's front door.
Tee-a-nicknick pulled a long hollow tube out of the back of his shirt, then took a cat's claw, tied with a small clutch of feathers, from his pocket. Kneeling low and moving very carefully, the tattooed half-qullan savage turned his right hand palm up, then, taking the cat's claw in his left hand, squeezed a secret packet on the bracelet about his right wrist. Slowly, slowly, the tattooed man increased the pressure until the packet popped open and a drop of molasseslike syrup oozed out. He caught most of it on the tip of the cat's claw, then stuffed the dart into the end of his blowgun.
"Tee-a-nicknick patient man, too," he said with a wicked grin.
