The Lost Library of Cormanthyr le-1 Page 12

Baylee managed the introductions. "Aymric, I'd like to introduce Serellia Oparyan, an explorer like myself."

  "For profit or play?" Aymric asked.

  "For knowledge," Serellia replied without rancor. "And a chance to see all of Toril."

  "Ambitious," Aymric said.

  "Very," Serellia agreed.

  "And this is Aymric Tailpuller," Baylee said. "A falconer without equal."

  "I've heard of you," Serellia said. "Your birds are among the best in all of the Heartlands."

  A shadow of a smile returned to Aymric's face. "Then I am to assume that you've not traveled much further than there. Otherwise, you would have learned that the birds I have trained are the best in other lands as well."

  Baylee noted the disapproving looks they gathered from nearby people who were listening to Vaggit's tale of Myth Drannor's fall. He ushered his two friends out of the group and toward a campfire that had been all but abandoned. A small knot of men surrounded one of the tables, trading goods scattered across folded cloths as they bartered.

  "I'll go get some wine," Baylee offered as Aymric and Serellia took up seats at the table. He guessed that would take the edge off for the elf, and Serellia liked wine as well.

  Maybe it would be in your interest to try to spend more time with Serellia, Xuxa said.

  At the closest wine cask, Baylee took up three clay cups and filled them. No.

  She could fill those nights when you're lonely for companionship.

  There is some concern about the past that is between us. Baylee took his cups back to his friends, finding them deeply engaged in a conversation regarding the care and handling of doves aboard sailing ships.

  "They took doves aboard ships because they were far more trainable," Aymric was saying.

  "Not according to Dakilinan," Serellia objected.

  "And, pray tell, who was this Dakilinan?"

  Serellia sipped her wine. "You've heard of Lantan?"

  "Dear lady," Aymric stated, "I have lived there."

  Serellia looked at Baylee, who only shrugged. Lantan lay a thousand miles south of the Moonshaes and was renowned for the maroon-sailed trading ships that plied the waters in the southern seas.

  "It's true." Aymric acted as if he took offense at the doubt and the lack of support. "And during that time, I've not heard of Dakilinan."

  "He lived there as well," Serellia announced.

  "Nowhere near me," Aymric stated.

  "About a thousand years ago," the beautiful ranger went on. "He was an historian of some repute."

  "There are some who don't think highly of his work," Baylee supplied.

  "Did he ever write of precious metals or gems?" Aymric asked.

  "Only in passing," Serellia said. "He was more concerned with peoples and countries. Particularly the sea-faring traders."

  "All this has a point, I'm sure," Aymric said, "that has something to do with doves."

  "Dakilinan suggested that doves were taken aboard ships only because they were far easier to spot against the emerald expanse of the Trackless Sea and the blue sky. Trainability came in as a secondary reason. Domesticated doves were kept aboard ship and freed during different parts of the day. Wind directions were charted, as were ocean currents, anything that could offer a clue about an unexplored patch of sea."

  "Your historian cites the people of Lantan as a race of explorers?" Aymric inquired.

  Serellia smiled and shook her head. "Never for a moment. They were a race of traders, always looking for a new trade route, new countries with which to trade. Profit has always spurred every new discovery made in our world. Ask any explorer worth her salt if that isn't so. The first thing she'll tell you about is the difficulty in securing funds for an expedition. You have to meet with such small-minded people, and the things they're willing to search for are extremely limited."

  So true, Xuxa added, and chirped woefully.

  'That's why," Aymric said with a sarcastic grin, "so many explorers have gone to the trouble in the past to create a treasure map that no one has ever found before."

  "Not all explorers are that way," Serellia replied. "Only enough to give the rest of us a bad name. I've never created such a map, nor has Baylee, or Fannt Golsway to name others."

  "But treasure maps make such a pretty story," Aymric said.

  "There are some out there," the woman answered. "Particularly among people whose treasures are ill-gotten. And many of them are merely bait to bring the avaricious and curious to their doom. I've been on more than a few such expeditions myself. This is a very dangerous business. Make a mistake in one of the crypts and dungeons where all too often these treasures are kept, and you're dead."

  "Or undead, as the case may be," Baylee pointed out.

  "Remember our trip to the Lonely Moor two years ago?"

  "Three years ago." Serellia smiled at the memory. "Even Golsway didn't think we were going to make it out of that one without becoming undead ourselves."

  Aymric raised his eyebrows. "Really? Now this sounds like a tale to spend over a wine cup or five. You've not mentioned this before, Baylee."

  "That's because I'm generally listening to your stories," the ranger replied.

  Aymric placed a hand over his heart. "You've lanced me ignobly."

  "It is a good story," Serellia agreed. "Perhaps before the concourse is over, I could tell it."

  "I'd be enchanted, dear lady." The elf nodded his head graciously.

  "And if you try to touch me, I'll break your arms."

  Baylee laughed, knowing that Serellia meant what she said, and seeing that Aymric was realizing that as well.

  Baylee… Xuxa began..

  No.

  "Getting back to the doves," Aymric said. "I understand why the sailors used them. Loosing them as they did, the doves circled in all directions, but returned at some point in the day when they grew tired, to be with their mates."

  "Exactly," Serellia nodded. "The sailors used them as scouts. When a bird returned well fed and rested hours after it had taken off, they knew they were close to land. But Dakilinan also suggests this is why the early races view doves as a symbol of peace."

  "How so?" Aymric asked.

  "The early explorers only went to trade," Serellia said. The conquerors arrived later, after the way had been thoroughly mapped. The traders brought the doves, and they brought goods to trade. The would-be conquerors who went to rape and pillage didn't."

  "And this is what Dakilinan bases his theory on?" Aymric asked.

  "It is as good as any other reason for why doves are so revered among so many cultures."

  Aymric shifted his gaze between Baylee and Serellia. "How is it you two know each other? Through your various adventuring?"

  Baylee tried to signal to the elven ranger to stop his question, but Aymric either missed it or paid it no heed.

  Serellia sat back in her chair, her demeanor losing some of the cheer she'd possessed. "I was a student of Golsway's before Baylee."

  That's why it could never work, Baylee chided Xuxa. In truth, Serellia had been Golsway's first chosen, the best and the brightest of the pupils he sometimes apprenticed in order to ferret out a new associate for his expeditions. In the end, the old mage had selected Baylee over Serellia, but no explanations were offered. The event had left both of them wondering. Though Serellia apparently had no ill will toward either Golsway or Baylee, the ranger recognized that both of them were uncomfortable with the situation.

  "I see." Aymric stroked his chin, obviously knowing there was more to the story. "Would you care to see some of the birds I brought for show at the concourse?"

  A wave of relief washed through Baylee. He drained the dregs of his wine cup as Serellia asked the elf about the birds.

  "Baylee."

  The ranger looked up and spotted old Karg the Thunderer approaching.

  Karg was a massive man, shoulders a full axe handle and more across. His arms were as thick as most men's thighs, and his thighs were strong enough to lift a table
often men over his head. Baylee had also seen him crush small rocks in his callused bare hands, dropping nuggets and dust to the ground. The head of a huge, double-bitted dwarven axe poked up over his shoulders, incredibly nearly as wide across as his shoulders.

  "Well met, Karg," Baylee called. "And how are you?"

  The big man's face split into a grin. "There's a few less stone giants roving these lands than there were last year, thank the Lady. I trust you've had an eventful year."

  "I've had better," Baylee replied, curious about why Karg would seek him out. Usually they only talked in groups. Giant killers were notorious boasters, and at best only made good company for a limited time.

  "Have you been to Waterdeep lately?" Karg peered back across the concourse.

  "Not in months."

  "Did you leave trouble there?"

  Even more curious now, Baylee asked, "What's wrong, Karg?"

  "Interlopers," the giant killer snorted. "We end up getting a few of them every year. Usually give 'em the bum's rush if they start interfering with the festivities. Most of them pretend to be rangers, but they've never really had the calling. Or the talent. But we've a group here now that's downright interesting."

  "Why?" Baylee asked.

  "You know Tryklyss?" Karg asked.

  "Known as the Quick-Handed," Aymric said.

  "The very same." Karg nodded without enthusiasm. "Of course, he doesn't do any stealing here, but after some of us got suspicious about this new group, we found Tryklyss and suggested he take a peek in their things."

  Baylee was intrigued, wondering how all of this had sent the giant killer looking for him. His limited contact with Waterdeep had been only inquiries about Golsway. The last he'd heard, months ago, the old mage had been well.

  "Tryklyss didn't get very far," Karg said. "Their personal belongings are heavily warded. At least one of the group possesses extensive training in magic. What he did find out, though, was that this group is traveling under orders from the Waterdeep Watch."

  "What are they doing here?" Serellia asked. "The Watch is concerned only with what goes on inside the walls. They'd have no power out here."

  "What they want has yet to be determined," Karg answered. "However, they have been asking questions about young Baylee. It seems they've come all this way to find you."

  9

  "Baylee Arnvold? Yes, I believe I saw him only a short time ago. He was deep in his cups, wandering, you know, so I don't really know where he might be at this moment. But you might try over at the axe throwing contest. That's always been a favorite of his."

  Cordyan Tsald listened to the explanation from the woman ranger with increasing irritation. She and her watch group had been led in circles for the last hour. "Thank you for your time," she said politely.

  The ranger, a woman in her late fifties dressed all in forest green and touching the head of the great panther at her side, shook her head. "And why would you be thanking me? This is a party, isn't it? Not some functionary in a noble's court." She turned and walked away. The panther hesitated only a moment, its tail twitching reflexively as it covered the ranger's back. Its deep green eyes regarded Cordyan steadily. Then it turned and padded away.

  Cordyan let out a sigh of relief. Personally, she loved animals. But the abundance of them at the concourse was staggering. She glanced around to get her bearings again, and spotted the axe throwing contest. Cinching her sword over her hip more comfortably, she looked to her left and saw the two members of the watch who worked in tandem with her.

  Signaling her intent, she indicated where they were going and to remain back away from her. She had already drawn more attention than she wanted to with all of her questions about Baylee Arnvold.

  She walked toward the axe throwing competition, guessing that she wouldn't find the ranger there, either. The rangers were hiding Baylee because he was one of their own, she understood that, but if he was somehow responsible for what had happened to Fannt Golsway more than a tenday ago, she didn't think that would be so. Granted, there were outlaws among the rangers, but none who were outright.

  As she passed through the concourse grounds, she was aware of the men's heads who turned to watch her pass. Five and a half feet tall and slender, not having seen twenty-five winters yet, she carried herself well. Her chestnut colored hair ended at her shoulders and flipped in toward her neck, a proud mane that caught the firelight and burned copper. Her traveling leathers were worn but serviceable. She wore riding leathers over her breeches, and left her arms bare with the patched leather tunic. Her boots had low-cut heels so she could navigate broken terrain better. Her left hand closed automatically around the long sword at her side to hold it in place. Secreted in a number of pouches throughout all her traveling clothes, she carried a number of leaf-bladed darts. Dagger handles thrust up from her boots.

  Find Baylee Arnvold and bring him back to Waterdeep for questioning.

  That had been Captain Tirdan Closl's orders to her. Cordyan had been greatly surprised that the Watch was being empowered to go so far to bring someone back. It was no secret that the Watch extended their reach from the city upon occasion, but coming to the forgathering was the farthest she had ever heard of.

  Nearly thirty men and women ringed the competition area. Lanterns hung from trees along a path nearly twenty feet long. Competitors stood at one end of the twenty foot distance and threw their favorite axes at the target at the other end, a tree trunk hewn and laying on its side. The target was almost three feet across. Innumerable scars cut into the tree trunk already. A silver piece gleamed in the center of the target, but no one had hit it yet.

  The current ranger at the line drew back and let fly with a camp axe. The axe flipped end over end, then smacked into the target with a loud, meaty thunk. The handle quivered for a moment from the force.

  A ragged cheer went up from a handful of the watchers, while others groaned. It had come closest to the small target.

  Approaching one of the cheerers, thinking the man might be more inclined to answer favorably while winning, Cordyan said, "I'm looking for Baylee Arnvold."

  "When you find him," the man said, "tell him Rasnip says 'well met,' and he owes me a drink." He turned back to the competition, clapping as the next contestant stepped to the line.

  Cordyan looked up at the trees and curbed her anger. A host of birds and climbing things stared back at her from the branches, their eyes amber, orange, and red from the lantern light. Senior Civilar Closl should have known this would be a fruitless mission. However, after hearing how Golsway's body had been found, she supposed there was no choice. Baylee Arnvold was the only lead the Watch had. She sighed. "What does it take to step to the line and compete?" she asked.

  Rasnip looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. "You've evidently got a willing heart. Have you a keen eye and a strong arm to go with it?"

  "There's only one way to find out."

  The newest contestant made the throw with the axe, further away from the center than the last contestant had been. More cheering and groaning followed.

  "Then it will cost you a silver piece," the ranger said.

  Cordyan reached into her belt pouch and took out a silver coin. She flipped it at the ranger, who snatched it from the air with practiced ease.

  Rasnip moved forward. "Hold up. We have a new contestant." He looked at Cordyan. "What is your name?"

  "Cordyan," she answered, moving to the line.

  "Cordyan of where?"

  "Waterdeep."

  "And you are a ranger?" Rasnip asked.

  "No." Cordyan knew the group at the forgathering had already guessed that. However, they didn't know her true nature. "I'll have to borrow an axe."

  Several rangers laughed at the request. "She doesn't have her own axe?"

  "Going to throw with someone else's?"

  "I'm willing to make a wager on this," a man cried. "Does anyone want to try to take my money?"

  A young man with a feathered cap stepped from the crowd and ha
nded Cordyan a weathered hatchet. "It might not look like much because I've put it to ill use over the years, but it's a trusty weapon."

  Cordyan took the hatchet. She ran her fingers along the smooth handle. It didn't have a practiced finish, rather it was probably accomplished by rubbing a rough stone against it till the present finish was achieved. The head had a few nicks that a whetstone hadn't been able to remove.

  Some of the rangers guffawed at the condition of the borrowed piece of equipment, believing it to place Cordyan in even more dire straits. The young ranger blushed, evidently embarrassed by his own offering.

  "That hatchet didn't do young Turloc any favors," someone said. "He's already had his attempt at the prize."

  Cordyan took her stand at the throwing line and concentrated on the target, marking it in her mind. "And what is the prize?"

  "What is the purse so far?" Rasnip asked.

  "There have been eighty-two misses so far," a woman called out. "It's the ill lighting and the wine."

  "That means there's eighty-two silvers to be won," Rasnip answered.

  Cordyan let out a breath and shrugged, using the movement to disguise the act of removing two of the leaf-bladed throwing darts from her tunic. Around her, the rangers fell silent. With a smoothness born of long practice, she threw the hatchet.

  The weapon flipped exactly three times. True to the young ranger's word, the hatchet was expertly weighted for throwing. On the final revolution, the axe blade came around hard and bisected the silver coin. Partially held by whatever was used to hold the coin in place, the halves dropped to either side.

  In an eye blink, Cordyan threw the darts. No one knew they were there until they embedded in the tree trunk. Their feathers jutted from the wood, and the leaf-shaped blades caught the two coin pieces before they could drop to the ground.

  Stunned silence followed the display of accuracy.

  Cordyan had no doubt that the rangers at the forgathering would talk afterwards. She crossed the twenty feet, took out her darts, then tugged the hatchet free and returned it to the young ranger she had borrowed it from.

  Stopping in front of Rasnip, she said calmly, "There was some mention of prize money."