Chapter 12.

THE GRAY HAWK INN,

BALDUR'S GATE, EHB,

(THE PLANET ZEIST)

The disparate trio gave their orders to the innkeeper, including the beverages they most wanted as a liquid "appetizers". And it was only after these had been brought to them that Kaulder looked at his traveling companions with a once-more serious expression on his face.

"So, Logar! What can you tell us about the natives of Pylea? I mean, if my theory is more than just smoke in the wind, it would be nice to know which segment of her people might be conspiring against Glordelia and who might be loyal to her."

The dwarf bard grinned. "Well, now, ethnically, the island is dominated by greenspawn half-orcs partially descended from a now-undead green dragon elder called Aglaurosa. But, who, like the gnolls and my people, are divided into clans. Theocratically, however, the island is governed by a cult of redspawn arcanists of partial Githyanki descent called the Covenant of Trombli."

"Trombli?" echoed Helene Frisson, in puzzlement.

"The demi-god they worship. Supposedly, the son and only child of a red dragon elder called Tchazzar by Vlaakith: their deified ancestress. With the Witch-Queen, herself, supposedly bein' her reincarnation!"

"Why 'supposedly?' " Kaulder asked, quick to seize on the stressed repetition of that adverb.

"Because she's fair-skinned like the three of us! Which doesn't sit well with the fundamentalist redspawns. And that goes double for the greenspawn aristocracy... who keep fair-skinned humans as slaves."

"So," mused Kaulder. "Religious zealots and racists. Both of whom have one thing in common; they hate Glordelia's complexion. Politics does, indeed, make strange bedfellows."

Both the dwarf and the werewolf huntress looked at him strangely. Making him grin in partial embarrassment.

"Just an expression coined by an old friend of mine. A bard, like yourself. Except he lived in a small town... called Stratford-on-Avon."

"None of this does us any good, however," objected Helene. "Not if we cannot make it to Pylea before the Witch-Queen's wedding. And if Pylea does, indeed, lie on this world's equator, then, even if those three extra moons in the sky were not so adversely affecting the oceans, we would still not be able to sail there in under a week."

"Then maybe what you landlubbers need is a good airjammer!"

The disparate quartet (including "Brutus") looked up at the sound of the new voice. There, over Helene's right shoulder, stood another woman. Fair-skinned; perhaps, five years older; with raven-black hair styled upward in a bun; and with a man's light-blue blouse barely fitting over her ample breast. While her slightly darker blue trousers barely covered her midriff.

"Sorry," she continued. "Didn't mean to eavesdrop. But, the place is packed, tonight! And your table is right behind mine."

"So it is," replled Kaulder. "And who might you be?"

"Marchesa Damati," replied the sultry brunette. "Captain of the Black Rose! At your service."

Kaulder grinned. "And I take it 'The Black Rose' is the name of your... what kind of vessel did you call it, again?"

"An airjammer," replied Helene. "A ship that sails through the skies the way maritime ships traverse the sea. It is the only way Faerunians can do any commerce with lands beyond the Unapproachable Eastern Forest. "

Everyone looked at her.

"That's right," declared Captain Damati. "It's the result of their being manufactured in the Kingdom of Halruaa, in southern-central Faerun. The sails are made using the same enchantments as are put on their flying carpets. While the wing-shaped oars are powered by the artificial lightning generated by the clockwork gears carved from electrum."

"Electrum?" echoed Kaulder.

"A naturally occurring alloy of silver and gold, found only in Halruaa."

Once more, it was Helene who answered. Displaying knowledge, she had no idea how she knew! And, once more, she was the center of incredulous stares.

"You're very well informed, miss," the sultry sea-goer observed. "Did you spend much time in Halruaa? Perhaps as the daughter of... Carpian refugees?"

"Yes!" exclaimed the young French woman almost too quickly. "You guessed correctly. No doubt when I let my... accent slip."

"In any case," said Logar, now taking up the conversation. "Would you be willing to take the four of us to Pylea aboard The Black Rose, if we were to make it worth your while? Say, on the first good seaward breeze after dawn?"

"Well," she melodramatically paused. "I have to admit that's pretty short notice. But, luckily for you lot, I have the best first mate and navigator in the world working for me. Drenax!"

Whereupon, a young male humanoid with a turquoise complexion, long matching-colored hair; and pointed ears (dressed in white blouse and brown slacks with matching boots) stepped forward.

Logar looked him up and down. "Aquatic half-elf?"

Drenax grinned. "Close! Para-genasi.* Wind-and-water-souled."

"And that's the only reason our ship could depart in the time frame you stated a preference for," Captain Damati added. "Which will naturally be somewhat expensive."

"Naturally," replied Kaulder, before looking at Logar. "Did Her Majesty advance you enough money that you might be able to cover the good captain's fee?"

Now, it was the dwarf bard who grinned. "Naturally!"

"Then, you've got yourself a ship!" exclaimed the buxom raven-haired brunette. "Mind if we join you so we can finalize the smaller details?"

Kaulder smiled and gestured with very sincere gratitude at the only two empty chairs remaining at their table.

Helene Frisson tuned out the haggling of the others. Instead, she leaned down to pat "Brutus" on the head with her right hand. Yet, even as she did so, she locked eyes with the pooka dog. Consequently, she seemed to have a vision. A vision of men fighting... and screaming... and dying.

"Milord! Our defenses have been breached!"

"Take my wife and daughter to safety."

"No! We won't leave without. . ."

"GO!"

All of that concluding with the image of a rapidly shrinking castle engulfed in flames.

Helene shook her head. She then looked to her left and beheld four pairs of eyes fixed upon her.

"Je vous demande pardon! It has been a long day. I must be more fatigued than I thought."

Kaulder half-smiled. "I can empathize! What say we all get rooms for the night, so we can get to bed as soon as possible?"

Logar grinned. "A capital idea."

tbc

GLOSSARY

Para-genasi: generic term for any offspring born of one fully human parent and a half-mortal djinn.

Wind-and-water-souled: any mage born with the elemental abilities called "aerokinesis" and "hydrokinesis."