BALDUR'S GATE (DAY THREE)

The bluish-gray haze of the far horizon had finally started to develop a slight tinge of pink when Kaulder and his traveling companions boarded The Black Rose. Her buxom brunette captain came up to them and smiled as she shook hands with him.

"Ready to go, Sir Kaulder?"

"Ready, able, and willing, Captain."

"Marchesa, please! That goes for you two, as well."

She smilingly nodded at Helene Frisson and Logar Ythm, in that order. "Brutus the Boar Hound" merely cocked his head to the right, pretending not to understand. Five minutes later, the gang plank was brought back on deck. Giving Drenax his cue to close his eyes and begin chanting. A moment or two later, a strong breeze began filling the airjammer's sails.

Slowly, but surely, the vessel moved toward the center of the town's harbor. There, the water surrounding it began to bubble and churn. Gently, at first. Then, with increasing rapidity. At the same time, the airjammer began to spin about in a clockwise circle. A circle that slowly developed into a whirlpool; and, then, a waterspout. The Black Rose rising higher and higher into the air as a result!

"Alright, Drenax," Marchesa ordered. "Start the oars!"

No sooner had she said as much, then the wing-shaped oars on the port and starboard sides of the ship began shimmering with what looked like static electricity. Following which, they began moving up, around, and back, as if there were living men at those oars. At the same time, the waterspout had now reached a height fifty percent greater than that of the stony arch for which Baldur's Gate had been partially named.

"Quarter speed ahead," ordered Marchesa.

Drenax had the waterspout do just that... by turning it into a massive wave.

"Increase speed to half-ahead."

The wave began to accelerate its forward motion.

"Full speed ahead!" Marchesa exclaimed.

Whereupon, the wave broke against the stony arch. The top of it sprinkling back down, atop crew and passengers alike, as a fine-but-drenching mist. The discomfort of their cold, wet clothes, however, was a minor price to pay for witnessing something so incredible. For the airjammer had lived up to its name. The Black Rose was actually airborne!

"Duly impressed, Sir Kaulder?" her captain asked with a grin.

Kaulder grinned back. "An even smoother take-off than the Pan-Am Clipper, herself."

Marchesa squinted in puzzlement.

"Pan... Am... Clip... per?" she echoed, slowly pronouncing each syllable.

"The very first 'flying boat' I ever took passage on," he explained. "But, that was a long time ago!* Back when I was... much younger."

Meanwhile, back at the Gray Hawk Inn, Captain Vrackmul led a moderately large detachment of Knights of the Flaming Fist into the main dining room.

"Where's the innkeeper? Where is the one called Shandalar?"

The gray-haired man in question before came running up to them.

"My apologies, good captain! We are not usually open at this early hour. But, had I known you were coming..."

"Spare me your groveling, old man! I seek a free-lance paladin who came in here last night with a young woman, a Harper dwarf, and a black war dog. What rooms are theirs?"

"Alas! They have already departed. By now, they are well out to sea. Aboard an airjammer called 'The Black Rose!' "

Vrackmul swore under his breath. It was not until fifteen minutes ago that the regional commanders of the knighthood orders he had sent messengers to had sent him replies by trained pigeon. Each one denying that they had ever had someone answering Kaulder's description within their ranks. The Flying Huntsmen, in particular, wanted to know how this Kaulder had gotten hold of one of their trademark signaling horns!

"If, for any reason, you fail to lay hold of him," the latter's note had concluded. "...so that we might inquire of him to that effect, then let us know by return courier pigeon, immediately. If not sooner!"

So that was precisely what Captain Vrackmul ordered done. The only thing he regretted about doing so was his inability to see which would be able to travel faster. An airjammer... or a herd of winged warhorses.

LUSKAN, SWORD COAST, FAERUN

(TWO YEARS EARLIER)

The verdant vision of loveliness stepped through the portal and bowed.

"You sent for me, Lord Frostrune?"

Priamon Rakesk smiled at the use of his new alias.

"Yes, my dear. How went your mission amongst the Half-Elven Renegades?"

"Exactly, as planned, Milord. Both they and the Eldreth Veluuthra now think I was naught but a wolfwere assassin. Hired by the Zhentarim, to eliminate Shangalar the Black."

"Good! Because I already have a new mission for you. I have been informed that there is a sect of Kiaransalee-worshiping drow whose chief cleric wishes to overthrow the Lolth-worshiping Queen of Menzoberranzan. And that he wishes to do... as the latest avatar of the Lich King! To do so, however, will require the use of a certain spell that can only be found in one of the long-lost Tomes of Sahu. A tome currently in the possession of a certain malenti priestess of Umberlee! You are, therefore, to undertake the theft of that tome under the pretense that you are doing so on behalf of this drow. Although, you are perfectly free to enlighten him, as to the truth of the matter, at the penultimate moment. For this is the opportunity we have been waiting for!"

The newest member of the Order of the Twisted Rune pounded the tabletop, with his right fist, for emphasis.

"And, once you have your hands on that tome?" he continued. "You are to return here, with it, straight-away. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Milord."

ROYAL PALACE, PYLEA

(PRESENT DAY)

"What in the Name of Trombli went wrong?" demanded Silas.

Imsa the Green neither blinked nor flinched as she calmly looked the redspawn arcanist right in the eye.

"I truly have no idea. I maintained the semblance of Barshon up until the trap was sprung. Exactly as planned. Whereupon, I assumed the form of a gnoll in order to kill the Krugs' commander from behind while blending in with the true knolls. Exactly as planned! What was _unplanned_ was the sudden arrival of reinforcements... just as I finished teleporting the commander's body from the scene. The best I could do, at that point, was to turn myself into one of the Krugs and play dead!"

"We are undone," muttered the real Barshon, with mournfully bowed head.

"Not yet," replied Silas. "In the unlikely event Lady Imsa could _not_ replace the Harper agent, with herself, I arranged a contingency plan."

"Contingency plan?" echoed the doppelganger, with a puzzled frown.

Silas smiled. "Yes. Have you ever heard of... the Kraken Society?"

Imsa worded her reply very carefully. "I have some acquaintances within their ranks."

Silas' smile widened into a smug grin. "As do I. And one or two of them have agreed to do me a 'slight' favor."

tbc

*Pan-Am Clipper: generic term for fifteen amphibious aircraft used by Pan-American Airlines for trans-oceanic flights during the late 1930's. Each one powered by a quartet of piston-driven engines, they were the height of luxury air travel for their time. The first three were built by the Glenn L. Martin Company of Baltimore (later absorbed into Lockheed). The other twelve were built by Boeing.