In the Claws of the Tiger (15 page)

By the end of the week, they were in Shargon’s Teeth. Rocky islands jutted up from the waters all around them—very much like the sharp teeth of a shark, giving the area its name. Janik knew that the rocks that did not protrude from the water were the most dangerous, for they could tear a hole in the bottom of the ship before the pilot knew there was a danger.

This was where Shubdoolkra’s clan was supposed to appear and guide the ship through the treacherous waters. Janik had guessed that the earlier attack meant no guidance would come, but he took no comfort in being right on that score.

“Mathas told me you had secured sahuagin guides for the Teeth,” Captain Avaen said to Janik as the nearest islands loomed close.

“I had made arrangements for a clan to guide
Hope’s Endeavor
—the ship we were supposed to sail on. I left word for my contact about our change of plans, but I suppose it’s possible that he didn’t receive my message.”

“I think the attack at the start of our journey made that clear,” Avaen said, giving voice to Janik’s silent thoughts. “It doesn’t matter, though. House Lyrandar has good charts of the Straits of Shargon. They’re not perfect, and we won’t be able to sail at night, but we can get through. As long as we don’t suffer another attack like that.”

The earlier attack was nothing, Janik thought. We really don’t want to see them come in force.

“If the sahuagin do approach,” he said aloud, “I can try to negotiate with them. I have made the promise of tribute and I’m still prepared to keep that promise, despite the attack.”

“Very well. One way or another, we’ll get through the Teeth and safely to Stormreach. It might take a while.” The captain returned to the wheelhouse. Janik shortly felt the surge in speed that meant Avaen was back at the helm, using the power of his dragonmark to propel the ship.

The sun was not fully below the horizon that night when the sahuagin made their presence known. A bonfire blazed at the edge of the water on a nearby island, and a voice called out in thickly accented Common, “Breathers in air and dwellers in sun, what tribute do you offer to Baron Yadkoppo? Speak quickly, for you trespass on waters that belong to us!”

Captain Avaen stood on the forecastle, but he looked back as Janik emerged from his cabin and strode toward the bow. Taking a place beside the captain, he called back in the sahuagin tongue.

“Dweller in deep and dark, we have promised tribute to Baron Yadkoppo and his people by the hand of his loyal servant Shubdoolkra in the City on the Dagger’s Hilt.”

The sahuagin on the shore did not respond immediately, and Janik couldn’t tell why. He glanced over his shoulder at Mathas, who stood farther back and watched the sahuagin keenly.

Mathas caught Janik’s inquisitive glance. “He is conferring with other sahuagin who are mostly immersed in the water,” he said quietly.

After a moment, the sahuagin called back in its own language, its deep voice booming over the water. “The one of whom you speak is dying the thousand deaths in the jaws of the Devourer.”

Janik turned away from the sahuagin and slumped to the deck, his back to the bulwark.

“What is it?” the captain hissed. Every eye on deck was glued to Janik.

“Shubdoolkra is dead,” Janik said. “Dying the thousand deaths—either a traitor or a victim of treachery.” His mind was racing, trying to figure out what this would mean for their chance at safe passage. What was the proper response in this situation?

“Krael again,” Mathas said. “Your contact didn’t receive the tribute he expected from
Hope’s Endeavor
when it sailed through. Either his people killed him as a traitor for promising tribute he didn’t deliver—”

Janik finished the sentence. “Or Krael killed him when he appeared to demand the tribute.” He stood again and called back to the sahuagin. “One foe rakes with two claws. The one who has broken faith with you has broken faith with us as well. I bring the tribute I promised to Shubdoolkra, and I will swear to avenge his death.”

“What are you telling them?” the captain demanded, growing increasingly nervous.

“That we have a common foe, and they’re still getting their money.”

“Even after they attacked us?”

“That was probably a different village,” Janik said. “And unless we want them to attack us again, I’d better pay what I promised.”

The sahuagin conferred with its compatriots in the water and called back to Janik. “What is the tribute you bring?”

Janik repeated the offer he had made to Shubdoolkra.

There was no discussion this time—the sahuagin responded at once. “Your tribute is acceptable to Baron Yadkoppo. You
will cast it into the waters at your present position. Once we have determined that there are no broken promises, we will lead you through Shargon’s Teeth. If promises be broken, the Devourer will judge.”

Janik let out his breath, which he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and nodded to the captain. “I’ll need a few sailors to help me unload the tribute,” he said. The captain shouted orders and two sailors followed Janik down into the hold. They emerged with three crates of goods and dropped them over the bulwarks and into the shallow waters off the starboard bow.

A long delay followed while the sahuagin opened the crates and inspected the contents. Janik, the captain, and a number of sailors watched with some anxiety, peering into the water at the dark shapes moving below. Then the one on the nearby shore called out again in its sonorous voice, “Your tribute is accepted! You will follow us through Shargon’s Teeth. Baron Yadkoppo promises that no harm will come to your ship or crew while you are in our care.”

“Lead on, then!” Janik called back. He turned to the captain. “They’re going to lead us. I’ll stay up here to keep an eye on them and translate.”

“Then I’ll follow your lead,” Avaen said. “Thank you, Janik.” He hurried back to the wheelhouse and, on Janik’s signal, the ship started moving again.

They sailed only during daylight. This far south, the beginning of autumn did little to shorten the days, and Avaen managed a good twelve hours of sailing each day. The waters were treacherous, and the captain’s dragonmark did little to speed their progress around the dangerous reefs and jutting
islands. On the rare occasions that they hit a stretch of open sea, they could sail only as fast as the sahuagin ahead of them could swim—still a respectable pace, but Janik could see captain and crew chafing at the pace, clearly accustomed to faster progress on most of their journeys.

And that was the pace for a week. Around the middle of the eighth day, the sahuagin swimming ahead of the ship called back to Janik, speaking its native tongue. “Water darkens, light fades—your destination lies before you!”

Janik looked outward and saw two large islands looming just ahead. The sahuagin was leading the ship between them, but beyond, he could see no more islands.

“In Stormreach we call them the Kraken and the Hydra.” Janik was startled by Auftane’s gravelly voice at his shoulder. “They’re like a pair of monsters waiting to devour a ship passing between them. From our perspective, they’re the entryway to Shargon’s Teeth—the first hazard of many on a long journey. I believe sailors from Khorvaire call them the Pillars, or the Way Out. I think our names are much more evocative, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure evocative is always good,” Janik replied, “especially when the images evoke death and ruin.”

“Fair enough,” the dwarf replied.

Janik signaled the captain to adjust course slightly. Before the sun moved noticeably in the sky, they had cleared the Pillars and open sea lay ahead.

“We give our thanks to Baron Yadkoppo and his people,” Janik called out to the sahuagin, who were now swimming out of the way to let the ship sail past.

“May you return to the dark water with meat on one shoulder and gold on the other,” the sahuagin leader said.

“And you,” Janik called. Then he walked to the other side
of the ship, where no sahuagin watched, and spat into the water. “It will take me weeks to get the taste of that language out of my mouth,” he said to no one in particular.

For the first time in days, the crew unfurled the sails to their fullest extent, and the captain impelled the ship to her top speed.
Lyrandar Dayspring
skimmed over the surface of the water like a skipping stone, bouncing over the waves and swells, occasionally sending huge sprays of water high into the air. The crew’s spirits rose noticeably—not until he heard laughter again did Janik realize how scarce it had been while they were in Shargon’s Teeth. The weather was fine—the sun shone brightly in the clear sky and glittered on the water.

The captain kept the ship racing during daylight, and the new first mate kept her going at night. By the end of another week, the lookout spotted the coast of Xen’drik. Soon they could all see the land and its mysterious forests, and as the next morning dawned, the city of Stormreach spread out on the coast before them.

S
tormreach had once been a city of giants—in fact, Janik’s first published paper had described the crumbling ruins that still surrounded the modern settlement. The first human settlers had been pirates who used it as a base for raids on ships bringing dragonshards and other treasures from Xen’drik to Khorvaire. Eventually, the city became a base for trade—a place for explorers, dragonshard prospectors, and treasure-seekers to stock up on supplies, a market where they could trade their finds, and a port for semi-regular routes to Khorvaire. Naturally, the dragonmarked houses—particularly House Tharashk and House Lyrandar—were among the first to establish a presence, and they devoted considerable effort and resources to eliminating the pirates.

In modern Stormreach, house enclaves and supply markets stood in clusters of buildings along with all the ordinary trades found in any small city, crowded in by the huge stones of the ancient ruins. The city was dangerous—partly because many of its residents were little better than pirates, and partly because traveling from one part of the city to another
often meant a long walk through barren ruins along a rarely-patrolled road. It was possible, though, never to leave the area nearest the docks, and that was Janik’s inclination every time he visited the city.

By midday, Janik and his companions were off the ship, grateful to feel solid ground under their feet again. Mathas and Auftane went into the city to find lodging. Dania went to the local church of the Silver Flame. Janik arranged to meet them for dinner at a restaurant called Forest’s Bounty, then went with Avaen into a dockside tavern.

The captain took a deep drink from his ale and wiped the foam from his mouth. “Well, Janik,” he said, “I hope your expedition is a success.”

“Thank you,” Janik said. “What are your plans?”

“There’s always cargo to carry back to civilization, and usually passengers as well. And it’s rare enough to see a Lyrandar ship here that I can usually get very good terms. But I’m not sure I’m ready to sail Shargon’s Teeth again.”

Janik nodded. “I know that feeling. Would you like to ferry us down the western coast? I can pay you pretty well, but I can’t pretend it’s not dangerous.”

“And danger is exactly what I want less of,” Avaen said. “I appreciate the offer, but I must decline.”

“I understand. What will you do, then?”

“I think I’ll take a position in my house enclave here, at least for a while. I don’t think I can be landbound for too long—perhaps in a year or so, the sea will call me back. In the meantime, Stormreach will be a change of pace, something new to help me—” He broke off.

He didn’t need to finish. Janik understood. A change of pace was exactly what he had needed three years ago, after Maija disappeared with Krael. He raised his mug, and Avaen
raised his to meet it, his eyebrow arched quizzically.

“To fresh starts,” Janik said.

“To fresh starts,” Avaen repeated. They clinked their mugs together and finished their drinks in silence.