Under Fallen Stars - Mel Odom [39]
"Get to the point."
"Ye sell smoke powder," Khlinat said.
"I sell fireworks," Sonshal argued. "And torches, lanterns, and beacon pots. Things a man determined to go adventuring needs."
"Aye," the dwarf agreed, "and ye stock smoke powder that the Lantans make. The reason the four Grand Dukes don't run ye out of business here is because yer choosy about who ye sell to, and the fact that yer a rich man in these parts. Makes ye a good taxpayer, I'm told."
"What do you want? Do you figure an arquebus is going to serve you better than those hand axes you carry?"
Jherek listened politely to the conversation, staying out of it because he trusted the dwarf, but every instinct in the young sailor cried out to him to be at the harbor, helping where he could. Fighting men died while they stood there.
"No," Khlinat said. "I need that smoke powder ye have put away in the warehouse." He glanced at Jherek. "Steady, swabbie."
Jherek gave him a tight nod. Glancing at the harbor, he saw flaming catapult loads streak through the sky.
"I don't sell smoke powder to just anyone," Sonshal stated. "If you've heard anything, I know you've heard that about me."
"I wasn't intending to buy it," Khlinat said. "Just use it."
"For what?" Sonshal asked.
A broad grin split the dwarfs face. "Goin' fishing."
VI
4 Kythorn, the Year of the Gauntlet
Laaqueel crouched lower on the invisible floating disc as Iakhovas guided her around a crowd of battling sahuagin and Flaming Fist mercenaries. Incredibly, the mercenaries were holding their own against the sahuagin, starting to push them back into the harbor in some areas. The sheer ferocity of the humans surprised her, and made her respect them as well.
Out in the harbor proper, ships burned. Three of them listed heavily in the water, burning down close to the water-line. Others were in the beginning stages of the same fate despite the efforts of dockworkers and sailors to halt it with water brigades.
The invisible disc stopped smoothly in front of a warehouse, Iakhovas alighted gracefully, pulling his cloak more securely around him. He drew his sword, revealing the runes carved into the shining blade. It was the first time Laaqueel had seen the weapon, making her realize the agents he had working around Faerun to recover objects he claimed were his were still bringing things to him.
He grinned at her, his scarred features and eyepatch highlighted by a flaming catapult load that streaked through the night sky. "Come, little malenti. We have only a short time remaining that we may complete the assignations I've planned for our evening."
She didn't argue and she didn't point out that the sahua-gin were dying behind them, shedding their blood for Iakhovas's machinations. Instead, she told herself that those were also Sekolah's machinations and followed Iakhovas to the warehouse.
The structure stood bleak and weathered, tortured by time, the elements, and ill use. The doors, leached gray by the sun working through the constant layer of moisture that hung over Baldur's Gate, stood only for a moment against Iakhovas's gesture. A thin green ray stabbed from his finger and caused the doors to glow briefly, then disintegrate into a whirling mass of fine dust.
Iakhovas strode into the warehouse. Laaqueel followed at his heels, marveling at the amount of magic he seemed capable of unleashing. She felt in her heart that he had Sekolah to thank for that. No matter what Iakhovas believed, she knew the Shark God's influence had put him back into the world and made him as powerful as he was.
"Hold!" someone shouted. "What in the Nine Hells do you think you're doing?"
Turning, Laaqueel gazed at the dozen agitated surface dwellers that came at them with swords bared. She saw them for only an instant, then Iakhovas stepped to her side and brushed her back protectively. He leaned forward, put a small bullhorn to his lips, and shouted with a deafening fury.
The shout drove the men back five paces, turning them like sediment stirred up from the ocean bottom. All of them survived,