Title: The Web of Darkness

Author: Soledad

Author's notes: The laws and justice as customary for Esgaroth might seem harsh; however, in medieval times, much worse methods than here described were used. And while Middle-earth is not a medieval place in the historic sense of the word, I imagine that – at least in the Wilderland – similar attitudes towards crime and punishment were in use.

PART 25

The trial went on all afternoon; 'til nightfall, in fact. Master Kolbeinn ordered in the spymaster's entire household, the boatmen of his ships and everyone who might know anything about Turcaill's business activities. Servants, middlemen, trade partners from within the town and without were called before the judges and thoroughly questioned about everything that stood in the spymaster's business books – and even more thoroughly about things that did not stand there.

Drizzt, who stayed for the entire length of the trial, the working of which fascinated him, was surprised how far the connections of Master Turcaill reached. Not only deep into the supposedly hostile territory of Rhûn – after all, the merchants of Birka did trade with the Easterlings, too – but also into the far South, 'til the Bay of Belfalas and even to the dubious pirate city-state of Umbar.

Apparently, the spymaster had also done business with the Hanse of Lebennin – a bound of merchant towns in the South of Gondor, known for their aggressive expansion policy – for many years, distributing the treasure of the Dragon, which his lads had brought up from beneath the Lake, with the help of Hanse merchants. That fact was noted with particular displeasure, as it meant that the Hanse had practically established a foothold in Esgaroth, without the Guild Merchant's knowledge. And once the Hanse had its foot in the door, it was known to be near impossible to keep the rest of them out.

"Dwarven merchants say there is a new King in Gondor now," said Master Otir thoughtfully. "That the two realms of the Sea-Kings of old are no reunited, and there would be the same law in Arnor and Gondor again. Mayhap if we sent a letter to this new King with an official complaint about Hanse activities…"

The Master of Esgaroth shook his head. "Gondor has not even begun to recover from the war," he reminded the others. "A great deal of rebuilding will be needed, and that will cost the Crown dearly. Their new King would need the coin of the Hanse – he cannot afford to turn them against himself. We shall be on our own in this matter."

"What can we do then?" asked his brother, the head judge.

Master Ketill shrugged. "There are always the taxes. If we can come to a tax agreement with the merchants of Dale, we should be able to protect our interests successfully in Rhovanion."

"I shall se to that," promised Master Otir. "I have good connections in Dale."

"That is a relief, truly," said the Master of Esgaroth. "We do not wish for the Hanse to invade our territory. Now let us bring this trial to an end, so that we can deal with the servant Prostr tomorrow. I wish to be done with this unfortunate affair as soon as possible."

The head judge agreed and called for the votes. Once again, the bailiff carried the small voting basket along the row of the judges. Once again, the judges placed their voting stones in the basket.

Once again, all stones were black.

Master Kolbeinn knocked on the table before him, and the spectators rose from their seats to hear the final judgement.

"People of Esgaroth," began the head judge, "you have seen the evidence. This court has found Trucaill Allunsson, formerly spymaster of Esgaroth and former member of the Guild Merchant, guilty of treason, of practicing slavery, of grand theft and of shady business, the latter of which seriously harmed the interests of the entire Guild. Are there any among the free people of the town who disagree?"

There were none. The Magistrate instructed the scribes to note this fact in their documents. Then he continued.

"According to the law, the only punishment for treason can be death. The punishment for practicing slavery would be the loss of one's freedom; to work in the harbour as a convict for as many years as he had committed the crime. The punishment for doing business that goes against the interest of the people as a whole would be the loss of one's belongings, to the last piece of clothing, and to be banned from the town."

He paused again, and the spectators nodded in agreement. The laws of the Lakemen were ancient and had always served them well; long before they had been put down on parchment.

"However," continued Master Kolbeinn, "we must not punish the innocent together with the guilty. It has been proven that Eydís Ketillsdaughter, lawful wife of Turcaill Allunsson, knew naught of the misdeeds of her husband. Neither did two of their grown children, Arneidh and Thorodd. Therefore I suggest that we spare those who have done nothing wrong. Only Sydne Turcaillsdaughter, who was privy to her father's despicable actions, should share his punishment. Do the free people of the town agree?"

There was quite an amount of murmured discussion among the spectators, but in the end, no-one objected. The Lakemen were a law-abiding people, who wanted justice, not vengeance.

"Very good," said Master Kolbeinn. "This is what we shall do. The lawmen of the Guild will examine Turcaill's wealth thoroughly. His wife and the two of his children who have been found innocent in his awful deeds may keep the house and all that which had come from his lawful business. The rest of his wealth will be confiscated and used for the reparations that will be needed due to the war he has brought upon us. While 'tis true that the war has mostly spared us, there still are widows and orphans; and losses that must be repaid. Also, we ought to send Dale some help with their rebuilding; for without their bravery our losses would have been a lot more grievous."

Again, the gathering gave its consent.

"As for Turcaill Allunsson," continued the Magistrate, "clearly treason is the heaviest charge against him, albeit slavery is mayhap the most despicable of all his deeds. Therefore, his life is forfeit. Yet to do his other crimes proper justice, I say he ought to share the fate of those poor lads who had laboured for him among the ruins of the old town and were paid with a horrible dead for their efforts. He should be bound with iron on arms and legs and given to the water goblins."

Drizzt was fairly shocked by this merciless suggestion – which, by the way, seemed to meet with complete agreement from the side of the gathering. Lawful people the Lakemen might be, but their understanding of the law appeared to be a harsh one, based on the old principle of 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth'. But again, life in the Wilderland was most likely harsh in itself. People could only count on each other; and those who had lost the trust of their fellow countrymen were no longer tolerated in their midst.

The former spymaster presumably knew this all too well, for he did not protest, nor did he try to appeal for mercy. The only change on this stony face was that the blood seemed gone from it completely – he was pale like a ghost.

"What about he girl Sydne?" Old Mistress Arnthrud asked. "She is like a poisonous snake – we ought to remove her from the town ere she manages to stir up new trouble."

"Aye, but where should we send her?" asked the Magistrate. "Even if she would be welcome in any other settlement nearby, she would only cause trouble and harm wherever she settles down."

"Then let us send her to Rhûn," said Yrsa Brinningrsdaughter. "Khimmer chieftains consider having a wife from a different country as a way of forging an alliance. Nykvest Oddvarrsson from the Tribe of the Sea Dog would not mind having a co-wife from Esgaroth. He is young, virile and ambitious; just about to wed a daughter of Ragnar the Smith himself. Such ties would be useful for our Guild."

"True," said Master Kolbeinn. "But would that not mean the same as selling her to slavery?"

"Nay, it would not," answered Yrsa. "Slaves can be sold again by their lords, according to the custom of the Easterlings; wives cannot. She might not have the rights of a lawful wife, but if she can gain her lord's favour, she can have a good life there. Nykvest Oddvarrsson is just about to raise a great hall in Hjarderskall, at the Sea of Rhûn; a hall that would make people star in open-mouthed awe, as he says. The Tribe of the Sea Dog is quite a refined one as Easterlings go. Sydne shall lack nothing there; except the chance to scheme and cause any harm. Her Khimmer master would see to it that she learned her proper place."

There was dark amusement among he spectators. For a spoiled girl like Sydne, who loved fine clothes and jewellery and gold and gemstones at least as much as her mother, living in a barbarian town would be a harsh punishment indeed. But even harsher would she find becoming the bed-warmer of a barbarian – she who had enjoyed scheming and taking part in her father's power games so much. Everyone seemed to agree, though, that she had more than deserved it. Besides, she would have to be banned from the town anyway. As the co-wife of a Khimmer jarl she could at least undo some of the wrongs of her father.

"The suggestion does have its merits," declared Master Kolbeinn. "But how shall we contact the Easterlings and make our offer? Right now, it would be dangerous for a messenger wearing the colours of Esgaroth to enter Rhûn in the search for any Khimmer jarl."

"There is no need for that," replied Yrsa. "Nykvest Oddvarrsson has ordered six wall hangings for that new hall of his from me. He will send messengers from time to time to see how the work is going – those messengers can bring official letters back to their lord. And he will come to pick up the finished hangings in person, bringing the second half of my due payment with him. He can take Sydne home with him when he arrives in Birka in two years' time."

"Two years?" repeated the Magistrate in surprise. "What are we supposed to do with her in the meantime? She cannot stay in town. We cannot keep her in the gaol for years, yet she must be watched; she is not trustworthy."

"She can stay in my father's house in Birka," offered Yrsa. "My widowed aunt, the one who runs his household, and my two cousins would see that she learns something useful, That she works for her keeping like everyone else and has no time to stir up trouble. Twould be a simple life, much simpler than she was used in her father's house; 'twould prepare her for a life in Rhûn properly."

The judges discussed the idea for a while, but in the end they decided it was the best possible way to solve the problem. Thus Sydne was released into the custody of Yrsa Brinningrsdaughter 'til her karve would be repaired in the shipyard of Onundr Otirsson and she could take her ward to Birka, to her father's house. With that, the court was adjourned 'til the next afternoon, as people would need to go after their daily work in the morning.

"Are you truly giving the spymaster to the water goblins?" asked Drizzt Master Otir. They were sitting on the steps that led to the water before the Master Bowman's house, the sky clear and full of stars above them, the town slowly quieting for the night.

The big, yellow-haired Lakeman nodded. "We take treason very seriously, Master Elf. We trusted that man; he sat in our Council, decided with us about the fate of our town… and then he sold us to our enemies. His life is forfeit."

"I understand that," said Drizzt. "But having him eaten by those… things – is that not unnecessarily cruel?"

"Is it any more cruel than what Turcaill and Prostr had done to those poor, helpless boys?" asked Master Otir grimly. "Our law demands that any punishment we mete out should match the crime, so that justice would be served. Are you telling me that Master Kolbeinn's judgement was not fitting?"

"I cannot say so, and you know that," said Drizzt. "However, I thought you would be more… merciful in your judgements."

The Lakeman shook his massive head. "Mayhap that new King in Gondor, protected by guards and surrounded by armies can afford to be merciful. Mayhap the Wood-Elves, hidden by their woods and their magic can do so, too. Or the Dwarves, in their impenetrable underground caves… or the Men of Dale behind their stone walls can afford that luxury. Not us, though. We need the full force of the law to keep up order in Esgaroth – and, as you can see, not even the fear of the harshness of law can always keep people from doing horrible things."

"Will the servant Prostr share his master's fate?" asked Drizzt after a though-filled pause.

Master Otir shrugged. "That I cannot tell you – not yet. 'Tis up to the judges, and I am only one of them. But if you ask me, even being eaten alive is a fate too good for him. What he has done is vile; unbelievable that it would have happened before our very eyes!"

"Men are known to have done horrible things from the dawn of time," pointed out Drizzt.

"Not in Esgaroth, they have not," replied Master Otir grimly. "Nor have we ever heard of such things happening in Laketown of old. We have always been a good, decent people, Master Elf – such beasts must be put down like rabid dogs to cleanse the town again."

"I suppose you will get your wish tomorrow, "said Drizzt thoughtfully. "For my part, I cannot wait for this to be over. There have been too many deaths already."

"We were at war," replied the Master Bowman, "and where is war, there are casualties.

"Perhaps so," allowed Drizzt. "Yet now that the war has ended – and ended well for us, I would say – I wish the killings would stop, too. Even those done for a justifiable reason."

"What are you planning for once the trial is over?" asked Master Otir. "Do you wish to return to Dale?"

Drizzt shook his head. "Nay; the Men of Dale are good people and would gladly accept me in their midst, but… let us face it, I am not a Man. I might be mortal, but I am still and Elf and belong with my own kind… or the closest thing to it that can be found in Middle-earth. I have found friends in King Thranduil's court, and I intend to return there."

"You could always stay here, with us, you know," offered Master Otir.

Drizzt nodded. "I know, and I am grateful; I truly am. But I miss the company of my own kind – I had lived in exile for so long before coming here, I did not even know what I was missing any more – I wish to use the chance to be with them again."

"I can understand that," said the Lakeman. "But do not forget us entirely. I enjoyed greatly to fight on your side and would gladly do so again."

"There will always be new evils that need to be fought," answered Drizzt. "If you are in such need, call me and I shall come."

In the next morning, the lawmen of the Guild Merchant and several members of the Town Guard all but turned Master Turcaill's house upside down. Every single item found there – and in the hidden storage rooms under the house – were registered in long lists, so that their value could be estimated later and compared with the former spymaster's legal income. Everything valued beyond that would be confiscated in the end, as the judgement had ordered.

Mistress Eydís and her two older children had found refuge in her father's house for the time of the interrogation. Young Thorodd, hurriedly accepted as the new owner of his father's lawful business, was appointed a man of law as guide to help him separate the legal activities from the unlawful ones. He accepted this in a defeated manner – for what else could he have done?

Arneidh Turcaillsdaughter was frightened out of her mind. The sudden turn of her life for the worse confused her to no end, and she just sat alone in a corner, red-eyed and puffy-cheeked from all the crying she had done in the previous night. All attempts to make her rest or eat a bit proved fruitless.

"What am I supposed to do now?" she complained bitterly. "I have never learned a craft of my own to feed myself; Father always said no daughter of his needed to get dirt under her fingernails. I was supposed to find a husband, eventually, but who would have me now, the daughter of a traitor? Certainly Gudhleif would not want such shame to besmirch his good name… even though we could properly court, now that Father no longer stands in our way."

"I believe you should give Gudhleif Thorleifsson the benefit of the doubt," said her aunt Lioba, the wife of Bekan Kolbeinnsson. "He is a good, decent man; he would never blame you for your father's misdeeds… even less so as the court has found you innocent."

But Arneidh just shook her head and began to weep again. "He might not, but surely his family would. The Harbour Master is highly respected in town… he cannot afford to be connected to someone like me."

Unfortunately, there was a grain of truth in that. A good name was more worth in the eyes of the Lakemen than all of the Dragon's treasures counted together. Those who lost it had very little chance to earn it back – even if it had not been their fault. With his despicable deeds, the former spymaster had ruined the life of his entire family – even those in it who had no inkling about his actions.

Young Thorodd was a man. With much hard work and a good pinch of luck, he might eventually manage to come out from under his father's shadow and earn a name for himself. But what could a girl like Arneidh do? All her life she had been held back by her father, to make room for her sister, the apple of their father's eyes. And now she was to suffer for the man's crimes, too. 'Twas deeply unjust, but there was very little anyone could have done for her.

"Perchance you could go to Dale," said Lioba. "They have lost so many; they would welcome help with the sick and the wounded. Or someone who would take care of the orphans. You are not half bad as a seamstress… or as a webestre… or even as a cook. You might find a good life there, unburdened by your father's name."

But the thought of leaving Esgaroth, the Lake on which she had grown up, everything (and everyone) she knew, frightened Arneidh even more than the prospect of living the life of an outcast among her own people. Lioba could hardly blame her for that; the girl had never been beyond the town boundaries, save from one or two short visits to the Dale Fairs. How could one expect her to begin a new life in a foreign town, all on her own?

The lawman's wife decided to pay the Harbour Master a visit. She knew that Gudhleif had come to like Arneidh very much. Mayhap the family would prove more open-minded than any of them would give them credit for.

At the appointed time, which was an hour after the noon bell, the court and the spectators gathered in the Town Hall again to witness the trial of the servant Prostr. Unlike the one of his master on the day before, though, it did not take long. Less so as part of his misdeeds had already been revealed earlier.

Once again, Drizzt was questioned about Prostr's role in the planned poisoning of the blacksmith's thrall, and he repeated what little he had learned and heard while watching the spymaster at Master Ketill's request. The more important testimony, however, was that of Razanur and those of two other boys who felt the strength in their hearts to appear before the court. They described the court in shocking detail what the servant had done to them and to the other boys, especially to the youngest ones who seemed to be his preferred targets. At one point Solveig Baker had to leave the hall as she had become ill from what they had to listen to.

Prostr, just like his master, refused to say anything. He just stood before the court, in heavy chains and with a mulish expression upon his sallow face. He was not one of the Lakemen – must have come from the Woodmen, as he was a head shorter than the average people of Esgaroth, although of wiry strength, with dun-coloured hair and beard, and a dishevelled look about him, despite his clothes of good though simple cloth. He seemed to have had his master's favour; Turcaill's other servants, at least those who did not live in his house, were considerably poorer clad.

It was revealed, to the surprise of everyone – including Mistress Eydís – that Prostr had been born to thralldom. His father, a simple woodworker, had never been able to re-pay his debts to Master Turcaill's ancestor, the former Master of Laketown. As most of Laketown's legal documents had been destroyed when the Dragon had set the town in fire, there was no proof for this; but some of the oldest people still remembered this questionable practice with great disdain.

"The fate of this wretched creature clearly shows why we must not force thralldom upon the sons and daughters of a man in debt," said Master Carpenter Seamund. "Having taken one's freedom without one's own guilt only leads to hatred; and hatred, as we could see, poisons the heart and turns a man into a monster."

"Which is the very reason why we have condemned the practice as soon as Esgaroth was rebuilt," reminded him Master Ketill.

"Nonetheless," said the Magistrate, "one's own misfortune is no excuse for deeds as horrible as the servant Prostr has committed. I say, he should share the fate of his master."

"I concur," said the Master Carpenter. "Let us collect the votes."

As on the previous day, the bailiff collected the voting stones from the judges. As on the previous day, they were all black.

"Then 'tis decided," said the Magistrate as the bailiff presented him the voting basket. "This court has found the servant Prostr guilty of treason, theft and the corrupting of helpless children. For that, he will be given to his friends, the water goblins, at dawn, together with his master. Take him back to the gaol and watch him closely."

The sullen man was dragged out of the Great Hall, and the court turned its attention to Master Turcaill's boatmen, those who were accused of taking part of his shady business actions. Now that they no longer had to fear the wrath of their master, they finally dared to speak about the methods with which Turcaill had forced them to do as he had ordered. There had been everything from holding back their due payment to threatening their families; from having the disobedient ones cruelly flogged to having them bound to the mast without food and water for days. 'Twas a long and ugly list. It seemed that some of them were thralls as well, even though there were no legal documents found in the Town Archives that would prove Turcaill's hold on them.

"As we have no proof of them being indebted to the former spymaster, we can consider them free," decided Master Kolbeinn. "However, we cannot speak them free of all guilt. They had part in the unlawful actions of Master Turcaill, albeit perchance not voluntarily, causing the town great financial harm."

"They can repay their debt towards the town by serving on a knarr that belongs directly to the Guild Merchant," suggested Master Otir. "We are planning to confiscate one of Turcaill's knarrs anyway; we can take over the boatmen as well. Let them serve the Guild for a time that will repay for the harm their actions had caused, and then as free boatmen if that is their wish. That ought to be enough. They have suffered enough already."

The other judges found the suggestion a fitting one, and thus it was accepted. The boatmen nearly wept in relief. After all those years in Turcaill's iron grip, they could finally hope for a life in freedom and honest work again. That was all they had ever wanted.

When all this was properly documented and signed by the judges, the Magistrate declared the trial for closed.

"Stay for a moment, Master Elf," he then said to Drizzt, ere the witnesses would be released. "I would have a word with you if I may."

Drizzt was a little surprised but saw no reason to refuse the request. The Magistrate led him to a small office behind the Great Hall; usually, this was where the scribes copied confidential documents for the Town Council.

"We need your help, Master Elf," he said. "At dawn, Turcaill and Prostr will be given to the water goblins. Nay, worry not," he added hurriedly, seeing the Drow's darkening expression. "Our people will do that. 'Twas our judgement and we shall execute it."

"What can I do then?" asked Drizzt with a frown.

"We need someone who could capture one of the goblins long enough to speak with it," explained the Magistrate. "We need to send the others a message that they cannot ignore."

"What kind of message?" asked Drizzt.

"That they ought to keep out of our town in the future," said Master Kolbeinn grimly. "That there will be no more secret meetings with them, no more… agreements. That they would be shot by sight if they showed themselves in the town. Either in this one or among the ruins of Laketown."

"That would be the prudent action," nodded the Drow in agreement. "I still cannot understand, though, why do you need me for this."

The Magistrate shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Our archers are good enough to kill them. They are not fast enough to catch one alive. We have no use of a dead messenger."

"You wish to spare them?" wondered Drizzt. "Why would you wish to do so?"

"We find no delight in killing any creature, as long as they do us no harm," answered the Magistrate. "I know the water goblins are said to steal babies from the Woodmen, but so far they have done us no wrong… not ere Turcaill would ally himself with them. If they are willing to go back to their deep underwater caves and not bother us any longer, we shall not bother them, either."

"What if they are not wiling, though?" asked Drizzt.

"Then we shall hunt them and slay them 'til there is not a single one of them left," replied Master Kolbeinn darkly. "'Tis up to them."

"Very well," said Drizzt after some consideration. "I shall capture one for you – but you will have to do the rest."

Drizzt had Jón Otirsson take him to the ruins of Laketown by a small boat under the veil of the night. He found it better to be already there, waiting for the water goblins, ere the Lakemen would throw their two convicts into the water. He did not wish to have to look for a creature to capture in the bloodied water, in the middle of a feeding frenzy. Growing up in the Underdark made him accustomed to all sorts of garish scenes, but that did not mean he would want to watch them, unless there was no way to avoid it,

Besides, it seemed easier to capture a goblin scout when it was searching the ruins for something – or someone – to eat than catch one when a dozen or so of them were fighting for food. More so if the food fought back.

The youngest of Master Otir took his leave and Drizzt laid in the wait in the same house where the boys had been kept – until Yrsa Brinningrsdaughter's men freed them. The creatures had been used to find helpless prey in that place, thus it was to expect that they would look there first. The Drow made himself comfortable on his cloak and focused, allowing the Hunter to emerge. He rarely did so since arriving in Middle-earth, but these creatures were predators. He needed his sharpest instincts to overwhelm them.

Listening to the sounds of the night, after having spent days in a busy, noisy, crowded city was a true blessing. Fort he first time since he had slain the Nazgûl Lord, he felt like himself again. The sloshing of the waves, the calls of the night birds… it all reminded him of the short, most content time of his life: the time he had spent in the house of Montolio, the blind Ranger.

He could barely wait to return to the quiet woods again. Mirkwood might not be his true home, but among the Wood-Elves, he would find a new one, just as he had found friends among them. Of that, he was certain.

The creatures appeared so quietly that even his ears could not hear their appearance. Without his night vision, they might have caught him unaware. But there was naught that could have escaped the night eyes of a Drow lying in the wait, and so he spotted them as soon as they surfaced.

He watched with interest as the small, dark shapes emerged from the water, climbing onto the wooden platform upon which the house had been built. They were about half his size, completely naked, and clearly adapted to a life under water. Their spidery arms and legs ended in large, clawed and webbed hands and feet, designed to drive them forward in the water quickly. While they seemed to breathe through their flat noses and open mouths, Drizzt could also see the gills opening and closing on the side of their long necks. Their torsoes were short and barrel-shaped, probably stockpiling some excess fat under their smooth, glistening dark skin, for times when food would be scarce.

Their heads were completely hairless, too, with no visible ears and huge, bulbous eyes that could see in the faintest of light and gleamed oddly. Drizzt was certain their night vision would be almost as good as his – most likely even better than that of the Wood-Elves, as they were clearly nocturnal beings.

Drizzt eyed them carefully. They were small, but size could be misleading. The creatures – there were four of them – were holding short, barbed spears, the points of which were split like those of fish-spears, and glistening with some sort of grease. The Drow saw that as a warning. He had heard Turcaill and Prostr discussing the poison of the water goblins, for which there was no known medicine. He had to avoid being stabbed – or even scratched – by those spears, at any costs. Drow Elves were immune against a number of poisons, but he could not truly hope this particular one would be among them.

He considered his choices, which were meagre at best. Had he planned to slay the creatures, he could have done that easily enough. But capturing one of them alive, without slaughtering the others – which would not make them very perceptive for the Lakemen's ultimatum – presented a tricky problem.

He chose the one on the left; the one closest to him. It was smaller than the rest and seemed just a little clumsy, dragging one of its feet… mayhap as the result of some recent injury. That might just do the trick, Drizzt decided. He needed one that would be slower than the others for his plan to work.

The Drow grabbed one of the stones he had laid out for the likely case that he would need a distraction, took a big swing and threw it into the water, as far as he could. Alarmed, the goblins spun around and jumped head-first into the lake to see what it might have been… all but the one on the left. That one, slowed down by its injury, could not escape the lightning-fast reflexes of the Drow.

Drizzt grabbed the spear, tore it from the hands of the surprised creature and rammed the blunt end of the weapon into its midsection. The goblin fell like a stone, its breath knocked off so abruptly it could not even moan. Using the advantage, Drizzt, whirled around the spear and brought down the blunt end on the goblin's skull, trying to find a middle way between rendering it unconscious and slaying it on the spot. He needed it quiet, and that for some time. Then he heaved it over his shoulder and climbed with it onto the still stable part of the roof, as quickly and quietly as he could. He knew the others would be back in no time and discover its absence.

And indeed, barely had he his captive bound and gagged, he could hear sloshing and paddling sounds from below. The creatures climbed onto the wooden platform again, sniffling and searching. Drizzt hoped they could not follow the scent to the roof; part of the reason why he had tried not to wound the goblin was as the others could not have missed the scent of blood, less of that of their own kind. As they all reeked of fish, muddy water and carrion, though, the Drow doubted that their personal odour would be all that different from each other.

They did not give up easily, however. Drizzt could hear them talking in a harsh, guttural language that he had not heard before but assumed it would be related to the Black Speech of the Orcs. Their voices were low, almost whispering, but the water carried them so well as if they were sitting next to him on the roof. They must have scented him, for they searched every inch in the room he had been before. There could be little doubt that they would figure out eventually where he had fled, and then he might not have any other choice than to slay them all.

Fortunately, they heard something – or someone – coming upon the water, which distracted them from their relentless search. Now Drizzt could hear it too. It was the sound of oars touching the water. A faering came from the direction of Esgaroth, rowed by four of the Town Guards, by the look of their tabards. In the middle of the boat, two motionless figures sat; presumably another two Men, their arms bound to their backs.

Drizzt assumed that they were the former spymaster and his perverted manservant. The Town Guards had been sent to give them to the Lake – and to their former allies, the water goblins. Daybreak could not be far, then.

The Drow glanced at the sky, and indeed, the darkness had already faded a little. He glanced down at the goblins again and saw that they were tense and alert, their limbs trembling – but they were waiting still. They wanted to see what the Lakemen were doing on the water at such an unusual time.

The Guards did not make them wait for too long. One of them announced – loudly enough for it to be heard where Drizzt was sitting – that they were about to execute the town's judgement on these traitors, for everyone to learn from their fates. Then they unceremoniously heaved the two convicts into the Lake.

In that very moment, the water goblins forgot all about their missing comrade. All they could think was their prey – food, offered them freely. One after another, they jumped into the Lake again, paddling underwater with their large hands and feet and with a speed that could have made the fish envious. A short time later Drizzt could see their bald heads coming to the surface again. They were swimming considerably slower now, obviously dragging something (or someone) with them under the water.

The Guards in the faering waited 'til the creatures could no longer be seen. Then they rowed closer to the ruined town.

"Are you still there, Master Elf?" one of them asked.

Drizzt stood up, so that they can see him standing on the roof, an even darker shape in the fading darkness. "I am here."

"We have been sent to take you back to the town," the Guard told him. "Have you succeeded in capturing one of these… these things?"

"I have," Drizzt picked up his prisoner and climbed down from the roof. "Worry not; I have bound him tightly. Be careful, though – who knows what kind of filth may be under its claws."

The Guards gave the creature wary looks and made sure it – and Drizzt, for that matter – had a great deal of space in the middle of the faering. So much space indeed that Drizzt was surprised they had still enough left to row front and aft at all.

"It looks like an oversized frog," one of them said. "Or a toad…" he reached out and carefully poked the goblin in the belly. "Feels like one, too."

"Yea, but with more teeth than any decent creature ought to have," added another one, looking at the double row of pointy teeth in the thing's maw, which hung open in a twisted grin."

"This is not a decent creature," said Drizzt darkly. "Whatever agreement the Master of the Town hopes to come to with them, they will betray him. They will betray you all."

The lead Guard shrugged. "Then we shall have a good hunt. These things may live in the water – though my guess would rather be underwater caves, filled with air – but we have lived upon the water for longer than any Man can think back. If they believe they know the Lake better than we do… well, they will learn their mistake, and it will be a harsh lesson."

"I hope for your sake that you are right," said Drizzt, suddenly very tired, "for small though they might be, they also seem very wicked. I doubt that they would be interested in the wars and other struggles going on in this part of the world – but they would not hesitate to kill you and eat you if they catch any of you out on the water alone."

The Guard shrugged again. "They are welcome to try," he replied. "They will fail… unless they come against one of us in great numbers. But that is what Master Ketill is trying to prevent."

"They may make a promise," warned Drizzt, "but hey will not keep it. Whatever leaders or chieftains they might have, I think not they can truly keep the rest in line. They are little more than savage beasts."

"Mayhap they are," allowed the guard, "but we have to try, at least."

Drizzt was still not entirely persuaded that the water goblins would deserve so much consideration, but in the end, this was the Lakemen's decision; one he did not wish to interfere with."

"Very well," he said. "Take us back to Esgaroth, then."

~TBC~