Rising tide - Mel Odom [139]
She thought perhaps it might be because she was aware of the illusion Iakhovas had wrapped around her with his glamour, knowing how her clothes revealed her upper body.
"Laaqueel," Iakhovas said in the politest tone the malenti had ever heard him use, "may I introduce you to Portmaster Burlor Maliceprow, our host and the controlling power behind Skaug."
Maliceprow smiled at the introduction and took Laaqueel's hands in one of his. The other hand, the malenti noted, had been replaced by a mithral hook that gleamed with a razor's edge.
"Such a charming lady you have with you, Alaric." Maliceprow kissed the back of Laaqueel's hand then released it.
"Thank you," Laaqueel said, but she'd not prompted her voice. Such courtly manners didn't come naturally to her. She realized her behavior had to have been caused by Iakhovas's glamour.
"I have someone for you to meet as well," Maliceprow announced. "Please sit and I'll be back with him, then we can get to our meeting."
Iakhovas sat at the table all laid out with meats and cheese and wines. Laaqueel followed his lead, sitting next to the verandah railing so she couldn't be trapped against the house. She looked at the sea, judging it to be close enough to, run to.
"Relax, little malenti," Iakhovas said quietly. "You'll come to no harm here."
"What are we doing with these people?" she asked. "I didn't know you were going to be affiliating with surface dwellers."
He gazed at her with both his eyes, but she could occasionally see behind the missing one into the hollow where it had been. "Little malenti, I'll deal with anyone who can help me reach my goals. For now, that happens to be, in part, these pirates." He picked up a bit of meat and ate it. "In four tendays, I'm going to take Baldur's Gate, and these men are going to help me. When we leave that city, it will not be as Waterdeep. I will destroy everything in that city that touches the river, and a message will be sent that no one is safe. At no time, at no place."
Laaqueel heard the chill of menace in his words but she was still concerned. She didn't see how he planned on mixing the sahuagin and the pirates. Before she could ask any of the questions that were on her mind, Malice-prow returned with another man in tow.
The newcomer was a tall man dressed in a scarlet blouse tucked into charcoal gray breeches. A long sword hung at his hip, counterbalanced with three throwing knives on the opposite hip. His black hair was carefully combed, pulled back and held in place by garnet and ivory combs. Silver hoop earrings hung from each ear. His brown eyes returned her gaze with fire. The cruel turn of his features were partially disguised by the short goatee and mustache that were fastidiously trimmed, but left in plain view the tattoo on his left cheek. It depicted a sharklike creature with a black haired mane twisted in mid-strike.
"I've added another ship's captain to our roster and increased our strength," Maliceprow said with pride. "I'd like to introduce Captain Falkane, also called the Salt Wolf. His ship is Bunyip. I'm sure you've heard of it."
"Bloody Falkane," Laaqueel said, knowing the pirate for who he was.
Falkane took no offense at the use of his sobriquet. He smiled at her. "A name I've fairly won and proudly carry, wench. Make no mistake."
"Falkane," Maliceprow said, "will be joining us on the raid on Baldur's Gate, Alaric."
"Fine," Iakhovas said, "then join me in a toast." He picked up one of the wine bottles from the table and poured drinks all around. He raised his glass and waited until the others followed suit. "To the death of Baldur's Gate, by sword and by fire!"
XXXI
22 Mirtul, the Year of the Gauntlet
Jherek sat in the morning sun in the small court off the temple of Lathander that