Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [11]
"Liriel, these men are thieves!" he said, trying to make her understand.
The drow huffed, then threw up her hands in exasperation. "Well, what in the Nine Hells did you expect? Just for a moment, Fyodor, think. Don't you suppose it might be a little difficult for a drow to book passage with a shipload of paladins? Out of Skullport, no less?"
Fyodor was silent for a long moment, absorbing the truth of his friend's words and struggling to find a balance between honor and necessity.
"Well?" Liriel demanded, her fists on her hips and one snowy eyebrow lifted in challenge.
The young warrior smiled, but ruefully. "it would seem, little raven, that this sea voyage will be more interesting than i'd expected," he said, deliberately using his pet name for her to help defuse her ready temper.
Liriel relaxed at once and slipped one arm through his. "That's the problem with humans," she said as they strolled companionably across the starlit deck. "You never expect half the things you should expect. One step, two steps ahead, and you think you're done!"
"And the problem with drow," Fyodor teased her in return, "is that you can never stop thinking. With you it is always the head, and never the heart."
But the girl shook her head, and her golden eyes were bright as they looked up into the endless, starlit sky. "There are those who think, and those who dream," she said softly, repeating one of Fyodor's favorite maxims. "But i, for one, refuse to choose between the two!"
Chapter 2
A gathering storm
it was early spring, and the northern seas were chill and inhospitable. Huge chunks of floating ice made navigation treacherous. Pods of whales swam northward, returning to the cold waters of their summer home and providing an additional hazard to ships. Other, more dangerous creatures were also on the move. The Northlands' brutal winters forced them to find shelter in the depths of the sea. Now, with the coming of spring, these creatures stirred from their torpor and sought the surface, and food. Some of these monsters had never been seen by a man who lived to tell of them, but they left behind evidence of their ability to crush ships and devour entire crews.
The coastal waters north of Luskan, known as the Sea of Moving ice, were particularly dangerous, and Caladorn Cassalanter had been hard pressed to find a ship that would venture so far. Finally he'd booked a place aboard the Cutter' a sturdy merchant cog that traveled north every year during this season, when sea lions gave birth on the rocky islands and large ice floes. Harvesting the pups was grim business, but the silky white pelts brought a fine price from the decadent nobles of Waterdeep. And with piracy on the rise, even at this uncertain time of year, the ship's captain had willingly accepted Caladorn's offer of a strong arm and a keen blade to help protect the valuable cargo.
Caladorn's family was among the richest ofWaterdeep's nobility, but the young man had set aside name, rank, and privilege to earn his own way. Despite his best intentions and the rough garments he wore, he stood out among the crew. Broad-shouldered and tall, he wore his weapons well and moved with the measured grace of a seasoned fighter. There was a natural, unconscious pride to his bearing and a certainty of purpose in his eyes that belied his claim of being a bored young nobleman out for adventure. For Caladorn was one of the secret Lords ofWaterdeep. Troubling rumors, rumbles of some pending conflict, had been filtering south for some time. Caladorn sailed north to find answers.
The sun had newly risen, and the young Lord stood first watch in the crow's nest. It was not an enviable position. Heavy mist hung, like a shroud, over the water, drenching his cloak and clinging to his dark red hair in salt-scented icicles. But all thought of discomfort vanished as his eyes