Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [3]
Before long she came to a small, dank cave that in eons past had served as a crypt. Now a prison cell, the cave was secured by iron bars as thick as Liriel's wrist and a massive door that was chained and locked not once, but three times. The small stone chamber was cold, and lit by a single, sputtering torch that gave off more foul-smelling smoke than light. A few deep shelves, long emptied of bones and treasure, had been chiseled into one stone wall. On the opposite side of the cave was a plank bed, suspended from the wall by two rusted chains. And sprawled upon the bed was the singer, who kept time to his music by tossing bits of moldy bread to the creatures that scuttled about the floor of the cell.
The prisoner did not seem at all downcast by his grim surroundings. He was a giant of a man, deep-chested and broad of shoulder, with a face bronzed by the sun and wind, and bright blue eyes nearly lost in a maze of laugh lines. The man's braided hair, vast mustache, and long beard were all of the same sun-bleached hue, a color so pale that it almost hid the streaks of gray. This was Hrolf of Ruathym, better known as Hrolfthe Unruly, a genial ship's captain with a taste for recreational mayhem. Liriel had learned that this rowdy pastime had gotten him barred from many civilized ports and had landed him-not for the first time-in Skullport's dungeons.
She reached into her pack and took out a statuette she'd purchased in a backstreet market: a roughly carved, rather comic rendition of a Northman skald with a horned helm, a bulbous nose, and a moon-shaped belly; it was not an impressive work of art, but some wizard with a sense of whimsy had imbued it with an especially powerful magic mouth spell, one that would capture any song and play it back, over and over, for nearly an hour. Liriel figured that an hour should just about do it. As she triggered the statue's magic, the wooden bard stirred to life in her hands. His tiny; bewhiskered face screwed up into an expression of intense concentration as he absorbed the lustily sung ditty;
"When you meet with the lads of the Elfmaid, my friend, You would rather face Umberlee's wrath.
Hand over a measure of all of your treasure,
Or swim in a saltwater bath!"
"Come ashore with the lads of the Elfmaid, my friend. We're awash on an ocean of ale!
Some taverns to plunder, some guards to sunder, And then, a short rest in the jail!"
Liriel winced. Dark elves did not include ballads among their numerous art forms, but since leaving Menzoberranzan she'd heard many good songs. This was not one of them. Even so, her slender black fingers flew as she shaped the spell that would lock the music into the statue's memory. The cost of a magic mouth spell was a small thing compared to the worth of the man imprisoned within the crypt.
Hrolf was reputed to be one of the finest captains to sail the Sword Coast. He was also the only captain Liriel could find who was willing to take on a drow passenger.
With the song safely stored inside the wooden skald, Liriel silently removed her piwafwi and stepped into the circle of torchlight. She cleared her throat to get the singers attention.
Hrolf the Unruly looked up, startled into silence by the sudden interruption. Liriel propped her fiSts on her hips and tapped her foot in a pantomime of impatience.
"So. When do we set sail?" she demanded.
A broad grin split the man's face, lifting the corners of his mustache and giving him a boyish appearance that belied his graying beard and braids. "Well, chop me up and use me for squid bait! it's the black lass herself!" he roared happily.
"A little louder, please," Liriel requested with acidic sarcasm as she cast quick glances up and down the corridors. "There might be two or three people up in Waterdeep who didn't hear you."
Hrolfhauled himself to his feet and walked stiff-iegged over to the