The Lapendrar river was not nearly as navigable as the Wash for a ship as large as the Dance. Cullygan and his officers - Bull Stonefoot, a highly literate orc known only as Gorga, and Keowan the navigator, sat down with a shipmaster in Escalant. The ship would have to be nearly taken apart, the masts taken down and stowed, iron hooks affixed to the sides so that chains could be strung from them to the banks, where the ship would be moved by beasts of burden and - as Keowan assumed - the crew themselves, slowly but surely, up river to Thaymount. In Thaymount, the shipmaster said, they would have to hire on a wizard or two. The intersection of the three rivers in that town was impossible to navigate without magic. But, he assured them, wizards were a dime a dozen in that town, and surely there would be academy students only too eager to mess with the currents for a few gold. They left the shop and went back to the inn to discuss their prospects.
Seated around a round table in a private room in the back of the inn, the four pirates looked rather glumly at each other, not pleased with the amount of money they would have to part with to bring their vessel up river, through Thay, and to the promise of fortunes on the shores of Lake Mulsantir.
"Lake Mulsantir had better be home to a goodly fortune, for all the trouble we're going through," Gorga sighed, giving voice to the fears that they had all been harboring. Her speech was somewhat obscured by the great curling tusks that protruded from her chin, but she had no trouble making herself understood when she wanted to.
"There were too many wanted posters in Bezantur for my taste," Bull Stonefoot said, "We're getting a little too infamous along the Sea of Fallen Stars. Time to move on before the lot of us are dancing the dead man's jig on the end of a rope."
"And spend all of our gold and more than a month on trip upriver that might not even yield?" Gorga challenged, "Better to head south, hit towns on the northern coast of Turmish."
The navigator said nothing, but looked fervently at the captain. The halfling stroked his chin and looked thoughtfully at the table, "Bull, you've been with me this last ten years, Gorga, for five. I value your counsel greatly. Have I ever steered you wrong?"
"I'm just... concerned," Gorga said, "We lost three crewmembers to the fever on the trip up the Wash. I would have hoped that would be our last attempt at navigating a river. Now that the Sea of Fallen Stars has shown to be less... lucrative... than I would have hoped when we chose to come here, I am a bit reluctant to repeat the experience."
"She has a point, Captain," Bull said.
"What do you think, Keowan?" asked Cullygan.
The navigator was silent a moment, "You know what I think."
"Surely you can't relish the thought of tugging a seafaring schooner up a river, against the current, day after day, for only the possibility of a profit once we reach the lake," Gorga said. She had made it clear over the last couple of years that she did not value the input of the young navigator very highly, but begrudgingly acknowledged his competence when forced to. That she was seeking to get him on her side was surprising to say the least.
"I was always better at navigating by land," he said simply and diplomatically, something that Addie would have done, "As for the physical labor, I've never been afraid of that either." He was silent a moment, and then his nature got the better of him. He laid his cards on the table. "I will be remaining in the area whether the Dance does or not. I wish you luck in finding a new navigator before you sail for Turmish." He rose then.
"Hold up," Captain Cullygan said, "Nothing's been decided yet."
"I've grown weary of waiting for every damn decision being hemmed and hawed over for days," he said, "You decide among yourselves, you know my opinion and I'll not waste another minute sitting at this table waiting while you go over every single detail."
"You're coming dangerously close to mutiny, sailor," Gorga snarled.
"I've no interest in your ship, Cully," he replied, "If you order me to stay, I suppose I'll have to stay."
Cullygan may have looked like a ten year old boy from a distance, but he was shrewd as a old woman. He picked his battles, and he knew that arguing with the lad was an absolute waste of time. He didn't quite trust the boy, after all, he was well aware of his past. Adahni might have chosen to forgive him, and that was her right, but Cullygan reserved his own and always kept one eye open around him. Without the girl there to temper him, he didn't wonder if he might be better off without him for a bit, if only to placate the other two, "You're relieved of your post," the captain said curtly, "Get your things from the ship, get your pay from Bull, and be on your way."
"So you're giving me the boot?" he countered, "Good luck finding a competent navigator in this one-horse town."
Cullygan cleared his throat, "I don't know that dragging a schooner up river requires much of your skill, Keowan. You're completely useless to us on this journey and for sure and certain, the rest of us are sick of being 'round you acting like a damned bleedin' woman. Take some time, get your shit together. If you decide to start bein' a man, we'll be in the port of Mulsantir in a month or two."
Bull and Gorga looked at each other, and then at the captain. They saw only too late what he'd done. He'd kept the plan of sailing upriver, but in exchange had gotten rid of the navigator, whom they had to admit had been quite difficult to deal with over the past two weeks. Without another, they could not return to the sea. They would have to take their chances on the river, and the inland great lake that it would take them too.
Keowan spat on the floor as he left. He'd made the threat to quit without really meaning it, something he should have known better than to do. If you're going to pull out a knife in a fist fight you'd better be ready to use it, after all. He wandered the streets of Escalant for an hour, his face scarlet with fury and embarrassment. He didn't really own that much anymore, and if he were to start travelling by land he'd have to replace much of his gear. He'd taken a gander at few maps at the local cartographer's. He'd always had an eye for landscapes. Mulsantir was a long journey, out of Thay and into Rashemen. He didn't doubt that it would likely take him nearly as long on foot as it took them to tug the whole damned ship upriver. He paced along the river bank, chain smoking, his mind racing every which way.
"Lad," he heard the captain's voice. He turned to see that the halfling pirate had been standing there, watching him with a small smile on his face.
"What in the fuck do you want? You've gotten rid of me. Here to celebrate as I stalk off into the woods?"
"Oh, stop actin' the fool," Cullygan said, "Bull n' Gorga, they've their own ideas about how a ship should be run. Probably be best if they went off and got their own, frankly, but I ain't about to drag them so far from the Sword Coast an' leave 'em here"
Keowan looked at him suspiciously, "But you'll leave me here?"
"I ain't leaving you anywhere," Cullygan said, "I'm sendin' you on a journey."
Keowan looked at him cagily, but there was no deception in the halfling's face. Considering his occupation, the little pirate was quite an honest men as men went.
"And why's that?" he asked, "That you'd want me on foot to Mulsantir?"
"This is going to be a slow and sweaty trek, for sure and certain," Cullygan said, "You'll go through towns along the rivers ahead of us. I'll need you to be takin' note of a few things. The ...erm... economic situation of some of the smaller towns. Whether there's a banking system. A particular lord with a treasury and a mansion on the riverfront. The size of their town guards."
The navigator cracked a smile despite himself.
"Here," the captain said, "When you go by, leave a signal for us. Douse a tree in oil, set it on fire so's we see the burnt out husk along the river bank. Put slanty hash marks on a tree indicating whether the town's worth raiding, one being poor as a temple mouse, five bein' a great fortune. Horizontal dashes for the size and efficacy of the local constabulary, one for an old man with a pitchfork, five for a lord's army."
"Very well," Keowan said, "And how is this particular work being financed?"
"By you not havin' to bust yer arse hauling the damn ship upriver for the better part o' two months," the halfling replied, "You'll get your normal share from the towns we hit when we meet up in Mulsantir. And... I have something else for you."
"What?" Keowan asked.
The halfling let loose a high-pitched whistle. From a thicket of bushes on the outskirts of town, an animal burst onto the street and raced towards them. It took Keowan a second to realize that it was none other than the black dog Davy, who trotted up to them like he hadn't been anywhere. He was dirty and burr-covered, but looked fairly well-fed. Keowan squatted and pet the creature, examining him. He was well-fed because the scavenging little bastard had the smell of a rotting carcass on his breath. The seeds and burrs stuck in his fur told the story of a long journey, there were seed pods from desert plants and some pungent leaves from trees that grew only in the marshlands, and a few berries from a bush he knew only grew in the frozen north.
"There's sand in his paws," he observed, "Not the silt from the riverside, dry sand, like... he must have gotten fairly far north to have hit desert."
"Then I guess you know where to go," Cullygan said, "At least the dog seems to. Been trying to get me to follow him since I ran into him this morning."
"Good boy," Keowan said, praising the hound. The hope that he'd kept kindled in his breast roared into a fire. If the dog's alive, his mistress must be as well. He may even know where to find her. The dog then opened his mouth, and a very strange thing fell out.
"What in the hells is that?" the captain asked. The navigator went to pick it up, and it felt almost insubstantial, as though it were only barely part of this world.
"It looks like a chipmunk," he said.
"Chipmunks aren't translucent," Cullygan said, looking very unsettled.
"But it looks like a chipmunk," said the navigator. Indeed it did look like a dead chipmunk, but it had not the weight of the corpse of a rodent, nor was it brown and furry. It was very light, and it shimmered in the noonday sun, "Gods damn it all, Addie would know what it was."
"If she were here, we wouldn't be concerned with where the dog had come from that he found this," Cullygan said.
"Who would know?" asked Keowan.
"There are sailors from all over Faerun aboard my boat," Cullygan said.
Never squeamish about these things, Keowan put the little corpse in his pocket, and they returned to the ship. The two Thayans on the crew had no idea what it was. Indeed, nobody did, except for the one crew member that Keowan had no interest in talking to - the Rashemi sailor that he'd found in bed with Addie a month or two after they'd joined the ship. Considering that they were stuck together on a damned ship, he'd done a good job of avoiding the lad for two full years. They exchanged words only when necessary, and the sailor was quite aware that if he so much as looked at the navigator sideways, he was apt to go missing in the next storm. If anything, the fact that he still lived had more to do with the shanty-woman's intercession on his behalf than any pity on the part of the navigator.
"Sandr," the captain said, addressing Rashemi by name. He approached them cautiously, still evidently terrified of Keowan, "Do you know what that is?"
Keowan took the little corpse out of his pocket and tossed it to Sandr, who caught it, and immediately grimaced in disgust when he saw what it was.
"That's a dead Telthor," Sandr said, "They've got them all over the place at home."
"Where's home?" asked Keowan.
"Village on the southeast coast of Lake Mulsantir," Sandr replied, "But they're all over Rashemen. Can't tell you where this one's home was. Or how long it's been dead. They don't rot like normal creatures."
Keowan nodded, "Thanks, mate." He turned and went to leave. She's in Rashemen. Or that's as far as Davy tracked her. Either way, I have an idea of where to start.
"Um, you're welcome... mate," Sandr replied, "What do I do with... this?" he asked, gingerly holding up the corpse.
"Whatever you want," Keowan replied. He had to keep himself from grinning like at idiot as he walked down the gangplank. A few gold and trading in town got him out of the light clothes that did him well on ship and into the dark leather armor he had become accustomed to while he'd been a woodsman and exchanged the short bow, useful for close range combat, for a long one that packed much more of a punch - in places were there was enough room to use found a reasonably priced tent and bedroll, and various sundries he remembered needing in the life e'd lead before. As the sun went down that day, the navigator turned ranger set out from the Port of Escalant.
He and the dog made camp along a minor tributary several miles north of town that evening. He wasn't used to that much walking any more. In his excitement, he'd entirely forgotten to pace himself, and he could tell that he would wake up with aching muscles the next day. Exhausted, he fell asleep beside the fire not long after sundown.
He was at Crossroad Keep. It was wintertime, the snow laying in deep drifts along against the stone walls of the castle and courtyard buildings. He was trying to track someone, he wasn't sure who, but the many feet of the keep's residence had made a muddy turmoil of any tracks that might have been left. He entered the keep. Kyla was sitting on the grand throne in the hall, the wolf Karnwyr by her side. Karnwyr, Davy's mother, had breathed her last at the respectable age of twelve, not long before they had departed the Sword Coast for the Shining Sea.
Kyla said nothing when he walked through the door, but she smiled slyly and pointed to the stairs. He nodded to her, understanding that whomever he was looking for could be found up there.
He climbed the spiral staircase, feeling an odd sense of dread. He reached the top, and opened the heavy wooden door that took him to the castle walls. I've done this before, he thought, and I didn't like what I found, did I... He walked out on to the castle walls, and he saw Addie there, in the arms of the paladin Casavir. He shouted to her, but she could not hear him. He's dead, he's dead just like Kyla and Karnwyr. You saw his corpse, Bishop, his body all crushed and lifeless underneath the stone; you know that this is a dream. He walked up to them, and they only stood there, moving very slowly or not at all, looking into each other's eyes. He put a hand out, and touched the side of Addie's face gently. Her skin was warm to the touch, but she was so still...
If this is a dream, you can make him go away. He turned to Casavir. Go on then, he willed, Go off to whatever dark part of my subconscious brought you here. The paladin started moving, all of a sudden. He winked at Bishop, and disentangled himself from Adahni's arms. The girl still stood there, her arms outstretched, frozen.
The paladin gave a jerky little bow then, but when he rose, he was not the paladin at all. He was a very odd-looking man, young and handsome, but with a strange bluish tinge to his skin. It was as though he'd been wearing the paladin's body as a mask, and as soon as Bishop interacted with him, it had fallen away and he could see his real form underneath.
"Who in the hells are you?" Bishop demanded, suddenly dreadfully unsettled, striding forward. The blue man only winked again, turned, climbed over the parapet, and jumped from the walls. Bishop rushed after and looked down for some crushed corpse. Instead, the man had landed on his feet, and was dancing down the path in the courtyard out of view.
All of a sudden, he was hit from behind, and went tumbling over the wall. He managed to look behind him before he hit the ground, and he saw that it was Addie who had pushed him, and she was waving a sorrowful farewell.
He awoke in a cold sweat in the bluish light of early dawn. He lay there for a few moments, breathing heavily. Just a dream, Bishop, just a dream. Get up and go on about your business. He lit a smoke and started rolling up his bedroll. It was a long journey to Mulsantir, and dwelling on dreams would do nothing to aid him on it.