Rising tide - Mel Odom [64]
Word from Finaren's crew had already climbed Widow's Hill.
XII
30 Ches, the Year of the Gauntlet
Laaqueel stared at the approaching black plague wagon, her heart hammering in her chest. She clenched the short sword in her fist as she said a prayer and prepared one of the spells that had been given her by Sekolah.
"Do not waste your fears or spells on that thing, my little malenti," Iakhovas growled behind her. "What you see before you in all its gaudy trappings is an apparition, a bad dream without substance. This alley was named for that worthless abuse of power."
Laaqueel drew back uncertainly. The wagon unnerved her, but so did Iakhovas's knowledge of it. She'd helped prepare him regarding Waterdeep and she'd never heard of it.
"My time is wasting away," the wizard told her. He waved an arm, drawing his wererats to him. "You've already stepped over the line this night by questioning that damned woman, little malenti; have a care not make another such mistake. Tolerance is a virtue and I am not a champion of virtues. I judge you on your worth, and it's only outweighed by your frivolity or incompetence."
Ducking her head to avoid the cold gaze of his eye, Laaqueel remained still as the plague wagon passed her. She thought she saw the bones of the dead littering the wagon bed, but it might only have been a trick of the moonlight. When the wagon reached the end of the alley, it shimmered once and disappeared, taking with it the mournful creak of the wheels.
Iakhovas took the lead again without hesitation. He passed the first building across the alley on the left and stopped in front of the door to the second.
Laaqueel stopped behind him. She felt the dryness of her eyes as the lids dragged across them. Her skin felt tight as the. harsh winds from the storm out in the harbor whistled up through the narrow streets and alleys leading up the inclines. She glanced back at the harbor. From her position, she could barely see the harbor, but it spread out from the Dock Ward, the flatness of the water contrasting sharply with the rolling pitch of the hills the city had been built on.
Several griffons from Waterdeep's air corps filled the air over the harbor. Their distinctive eagle wings and heads on their lions' bodies made them stand out against the smoke-filled night sky. Catapults still threw flaming missiles into the water inside the harbor and further out to sea where more sea creatures had gathered. Fire spread along the Dock Ward, burning buildings as well as ships at anchor. Laaqueel knew Iakhovas had spoken the truth when he said Waterdeep would bear the scars of the night's attack for years to come. It would become a symbol to her people that the hated surface dwellers could be driven from their own territory.
It would strike fear into the hearts of the humans.
She didn't delude herself, though. She knew she wasn't sure that Iakhovas was there because of Sekolah. The wizard had never denied knowing the Great Shark, but neither had he spoken of what relationship might exist between them.
The glyphs on the doors and wall surrounding them suddenly blazed with lambent emerald light. Laaqueel turned, raising her free hand in her defense with a spell at the ready.
"Be still, little malenti," Iakhovas commanded.
He centered himself in front of the door and spoke in that language Laaqueel had never been able to identify. Tattoos on his cheek, neck, and left forearm glowed with a matching green light, then shot out in beams no wider than a forefinger. The tattoos' beams touched the guardian glyphs built into the door and calmed them to dim glows.
Intrigued, Laaqueel glanced up at the battered sign hanging overhead: Serpentil Books & Folios. Constructed of sandstone, the shop's exterior showed signs of suffering through harsh weather conditions and dozens of years. The wares window where goods were normally displayed to attract passersby was crudely boarded over, leaving her