Mordan punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Typical Brelander,” he said, “everything’s bigger and better at home. I’m surprised you people ever travel anywhere.”
“Oh, we like to,” answered Tarrel jokingly, “so we can tell everyone else how great our country is.” He gestured at the Nightwood again. “Is it true there’s a chasm in the middle that reaches right down to Khyber?”
“Why do you ask?” said Mordan. “So you can tell me there’s one in Breland that reaches through Khyber, out the other side, and down to the bottom of the universe?”
Tarrel became serious. “How are we going to find one necromancer in the middle of all those trees?”
“I expect Haldin’s got a plan,” Mordan replied. “He seems to be good at that sort of thing.”
“What do you make of him?” asked Tarrel.
Mordan spread his arms, indicating the airship and her crew. “If he can get the use of this, he’s not just a Ministry filing clerk,” he said.
Tarrel nodded. “True,” he said. “I was watching him during the attack on the fort, and he’s got some powerful magic. Is he Blood of Vol, do you think?”
Mordan shook his head.
“No,” he said. “The only Blood clerics I ever met were completely humorless. I’m not sure they even recruit gnomes. And that dragon statue of his—I’ve seen it somewhere, but I can’t place it. He could follow a gnome god, I suppose, or some power the Ministry has a deal with.”
“Well,” said Tarrel, “after watching him in action, I’m glad he’s on our side—small as he is.”
“Size can be deceptive,” replied Mordan. “I learned that on the Talenta Plains. Some of those halfling hunters are tougher than a dwarf’s boots.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a howl of pain from Haldin’s cabin. Crew members scurried to see what had happened, but the gnome came out rubbing his eyes and waved them away.
“Avery clever fellow, our friend Dravuliel,” he said, beckoning Mordan and Tarrel inside. The cabin was low and dark, dominated by a large wooden desk. A long-legged chair was upset beside the desk, and upon the tabletop stood a crystal ball on a bronze tripod.
“I got a good enough look at him at the fort, so I thought I would try to scry his location,” he continued, “but it seems he was prepared for that eventuality. Not only did he block my vision, but he also managed to send back some kind of magical attack through the crystal ball.” Righting the chair, he sat down, holding the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb like a man with a headache.
“Does that mean he knows we’re coming?” asked Tarrel.
The gnome nodded. “That was never in doubt,” he said. “After the way he showed his hand at the fort, he would be foolish not to expect pursuit, and whatever else he may be, this elf is no fool.”
Haldin opened a fitted cupboard behind his desk, taking out three goblets and a glass decanter. “Would you care to join me?” he asked. “I’m afraid all I have is Zil brandy. The Cyran is so hard to come by these days.” He poured three glasses. “Now,” he said when they had drunk, “based on the rough directions given by our captive, I estimate that we are very close to our destination. I was hoping to establish a more precise location using the crystal ball, but I don’t think I shall try that again.”
“Why didn’t you bring him along?” asked Tarrel. “Maybe he could have guided us there.”
“Two reasons,” answered Haldin. “I felt it was important that he should go to the Ministry for study, along with the remains of his less mobile comrades. They will also find those improved skeletal horses very interesting, I think. Second, I did not want to bring him too close to his former master, in case his loyalty should return—either by itself or through magical persuasion.”
“Anyway,” he said, getting up from the desk, “we should consider our course of action upon arrival. Would you be so kind as to follow me?”
He led them along a companionway and down a flight of steps into the heart of the ship. Opening a polished wooden door, he waved them inside with a bow, and they found themselves in some kind of equipment locker.
Racks of weapons and armor lined the walls, and crates of ropes, bottles, and other objects were secured to the floor. The two stood silently for a moment, looking about them.
“Please feel free to take anything you think will be useful,” said Haldin. “I have left orders that the same courtesy is to be extended to Captain ir’Mallon when she wakes.”
Before they could reply, the ship lurched suddenly, and there were cries of alarm from on deck. The three hurried out to see what was the matter.
Some of the crew were leaning over the rail, pointing in alarm. The ballista crews were hurriedly clearing their weapons of their tarpaulins. Others, including the two half-elves who had accompanied Haldin to Fort Zombie, were securing heavy repeating crossbows to their mounts on the rails and slapping in magazines of bolts.
