Maquesta Kar-Thon Read online

  "Myheadhurts," he gushed as he tried to push himself into a sitting position. "Someonestophittingmeintheheadwithahammer."

  "Stay down." Tailonna's firm voice and even firmer hand on his shoulder kept the gnome in place. "You were seriously hurt. You need to rest."

  "I've got to cook breakfast," he said, slowing his speech pattern.

  "It is past breakfast," the sea elf scolded. "But if you're hungry, I can have something brought here for you."

  Ilyatha backed away from the cot and started toward the armory door. "Maquesta will want to know they are both doing better. I will get her."

  "Wait!" the sea elf called. "I really could do without her company for just a little while longer. Besides, she's busy working on her plan to go after the morkoth. She'll stop by later. Let her be for now, and let Fritzen and Lendle enjoy some quiet."

  Ilyatha looked at the comely elf. The captain needs to know, he communicated. With that, he bundled his cape about him and pulled the hood over his head until his face was cloaked in shadows. Letting the sleeves fall below his fingertips, and taking a deep breath, he stepped out into the painful morning light.

  "I should help Maq with her plans," Fritz announced.

  "No!" Tailonna's tone was more of a scolding than a command. "Maquesta is doing fine alone."

  The half-ogre looked quizzically at the sea elf. "You don't like her much, do you?"

  "I think she oversteps her authority," Tailonna said simply. "She takes on too much responsibility, and she basks in being in charge."

  "I think she's a good captain," he replied. "And I think you're too critical of her."

  "It is my way. Sea elves are not like surface dwellers. We are disparate, set apart. We look at the world differently. Perhaps our lack of tolerance for others is because we expect so much. We have high standards." She returned to sit next to Fritzen, close enough so her shoulder brushed against his. "Your blood is tinged with the sea, too. You should understand how I feel."

  He stared into her blue-green eyes. "I think all good sailors have a hint of saltwater in their blood and in their hearts. And I think you would do well to find it in your heart to afford Maquesta Kar-Thon some respect. I'd say you owe her an apology. She has more burdens on her back than perhaps you will ever know, and I think she is handling them admirably. Besides, I think she is uncommonly tolerant of you. I've served under many captains, and most of them would have thrown you off the ship for insubordination. They would not have put up with your attitude beyond the first day."

  Before the sea elf could reply, the door swung open, the light framing a tired and relieved Maquesta. She grinned widely when she saw Fritzen sitting up, but her eyes narrowed when she saw how close Tailonna was sitting to him. Not bothering to say anything, she strode to the gnome's cot and sat on the edge.

  "Maquesta Kar-Thon," Lendle said slowly, "I am glad to see you. And I am hungry. What is for lunch?"

  "A passable eel stew. Get yourself well—quickly, my old friend. For I do not think my stomach can survive Vartan and Hvel's… masterpieces."

  "Where's Ilyatha? He's been very good to me. I want to thank him for making me well."

  Behind Maquesta, the sea elf opened her mouth to correct the gnome, to take credit for his recovery, but a stern look from Fritzen cut her off.

  "Ilyatha's belowdecks," Maq replied. "He's sleeping in the darkness of the cargo hold. He stayed up with you all night. But he said he would come by to visit after sunset."

  Maquesta turned to Fritzen and explained she had been planning the raid on the morkoth lair. "I think Belwar will help us, though he is nowhere to be seen today. Ilyatha thinks he is traveling on another plane. We'll discuss the plans tonight, after Ilyatha has rested. Perhaps Belwar will be back by then."

  Rising, she nodded to Fritz and Tailonna, then left the armory.

  "I'm sorry."

  The words startled Maquesta. She was at the wheel, staring at the clouds on the horizon and hoping they did not signal a storm. Turning, she saw the sea elf standing behind her.

  "I am not used to being around surface dwellers," Tailonna stated simply. "My way is not your way, and I apologize for not following your instructions. We have no captains under the waves. In my community our elders are wise, but they are few, and the hierarchy of authority is not so well defined. I did not mean to insult you. And I will try to remember to seek your counsel and permission before I act."

  Maquesta's mouth fell open in surprise.

  "I recognize that you are in charge of this ship," Tailonna continued, "and that you make all the decisions."

  "But I frequently ask for advice," Maq said. "I need the knowledge and assistance of all of my crew. And I do appreciate what you've done for Lendle and Fritzen." She saw Tailonna's face brighten when she mentioned the half-ogre, and that bothered her. But she kept those thoughts to herself.

  Tailonna reached her hands up into the air and wiggled her webbed fingers, enjoying the breeze. After a moment, the sea elf stepped in front of the wheel, looking between the spokes and into Maquesta's dark eyes.

  "When I left the ship to search for herbs and other medicines, I swam to my home community. I learned a lot there, information that should help you—and concern you—in your endeavors to capture the morkoth."

  Details about a kuo-toa colony adjacent to the morkoth lair tumbled from the sea elf's lips. 'Though the colony is not allied with the creature, there exists an uneasy truce. The morkoth does not attack the kuo-toa, but neither do they prevent other creatures and animals from swimming into its lair. It is rumored the kuo-toa even make sacrifices to the morkoth. Their numbers are considerable, and to get to the morkoth, you and your group will probably have to go through the kuo-toa.

  Maq groaned softly. "Nothing has been easy on this trip," she said, letting down her guard a little and feeling slightly more comfortable in the sea elf's presence. "It seems we're destined to ever be challenged."

  "I will do what I can to help you," Tailonna offered. "I have no love for the kuo-toa, nor for their associates, who often capture sea elves and force them into slavery. My people tell me the colony works in concert with another nearby underwater community. It is a village filled with koalinth. They are similar to the hobgoblins that walk the land, but these are aquatic, and evil, perhaps worse than the morkoth and kuo-toa."

  "I don't know if I have enough sailors to take on a colony of kuo-toa or the koalinth," Maquesta said thoughtfully. "Perhaps a better tact would be to find a way around them, directly to the morkoth." She noticed the sea elf's dejected expression and decided to offer a compromise. "With the morkoth secured and in Lord Attat's hands, my father will be returned to the ship. Perhaps we could recruit more sailors in Lacynos and come back. With a stronger force, and with your people aiding us, we would fare better in a battle against the creatures."

  The sea elf nodded. "Fritzen is right: you are wise. And I have been… perhaps… difficult. To bridge our differences, let me offer you a boon."

  Tailonna walked to the rear of the aft deck and retrieved a bucket. Attaching it to a coil of rope, she threw it over the side, let it fill with seawater, and then hauled it up. Carrying the bucket near to Maquesta and the wheel, the elf sat cross-legged on the deck and peered into the water. Taking one of the smaller seashells out of her hair, she gently blew on it, muttered some musical-sounding words, and dropped the shell into the bucket.

  "I cast a spell that lets me divine moments in the past," Tailonna said. "Look into the bucket and concentrate. You will see familiar scenes and people familiar, but only the past can be known to you."

  "My father?" Maq posed.

  "If you concentrate, you can see moments—or years—into the past. It will be as if you were there, reliving whatever you choose to." Tailonna waved her hand over the bucket, and the water shimmered and formed glittering ripples.

  Maquesta stared at the ripples and Watched as they smoothed out, revealing Melas's face. Concentrating, The surface of the water rippled again,
then smoothed to show the elder Kar-Thon lying in a bed, with a minotaur sage tending him. Out the window of the room, Maq saw herself, Tailonna, Koraf, and Ilyatha leaving the grounds of Attat's palace. The time must have been right after she agreed to Attat's foul mission and shortly after her father had been poisoned. Relieved that her father was receiving the care the minotaur lord had promised, Maq concentrated on a different time period.

  Again ripples spread outward from the center of the bucket, and Maquesta saw herself as a young girl with long hair that was braided on the sides of her face. No more than seven or eight, she was scampering along the deck of the Perechon, running precariously close to the edge of the ship. It was a dangerous game she played when no one was looking, but this day it was especially dangerous because the sea was rough and water constantly sprayed up on the deck. Giggling, she ran faster, then she heard herself scream in surprise as one of her feet slipped and shot over the side of the boat. For an instant she felt herself falling, but then the sensation changed, and she was being lifted high into the air. Melas's strong arms rescued her, and he held her close, gently scolding her. The next time the Perechon sailed into a port, Melas had spent every coin he owned to have a railing built around the edge of the deck. It was the same railing that graced the ship today.

  Again the scene changed; Maquesta was older, twelve she guessed by the way she was wearing her hair. It was short now, cut like many of the other sailors wore theirs, and her ears showed. But they were no longer pointed, so it didn't matter. Maq was visiting with her father at the wheel. Grinning broadly, he hefted a crate. Setting it behind the wheel with much flourish, he hoisted Maq onto it and put her right hand on the king's spoke.

  "Steer the ship!" he commanded her in his rich, booming voice. "Take us toward the bay!"

  It was her first solo behind the wheel. Melas nodded to her and strode toward the bow. He was trusting the ship to her, a mere child. He wasn't even watching her. What confidence he must have had. Maquesta felt her heart swell with pride as she relived that glorious moment. But it was so long ago, and the vision was fading now.

  Concentrating harder, the ripples appeared to move faster, and the years melted away. This time Maquesta was little more than a baby, and she was being comforted in her mother's arms. Her mother, dressed in voluminous dark clothes to hide her elven nature, was singing a soft tune, trying to get Maq to fall asleep. It was an elvish song about forests, one that Maq had forgotten. But now the melody was playing over and over in her head as she looked up into her mother's eyes and stared at the beautiful, fair face. If elves hadn't been hunted, hadn't been forced to hide from humans in certain parts of the world, Maq's mother wouldn't have had to conceal her true nature.

  Maquesta watched herself grow. She saw herself learning to walk, a difficult task for a child on the pitching deck of a ship, and she laughed as she tried to put everything remotely edible in her mouth, including her father's maps. Then she saw herself alone on the deck of the Perechon late one night. She couldn't have been older than four. Why would she be out here alone so late? No, Maquesta noticed, peering into the shadows by the capstan. She wasn't alone. Her mother was there. Her mother had carried her here, near the rope ladder that reached over the side of the ship.

  "I cannot play this game any longer, sweet Maquesta," she heard her mother say. "I can no longer hide who I am, what I am. I cannot deny my heritage. I love your father, and I love you. But I also care for myself, and I must go to be with my own people—where I will have nothing to hide. You will not see me after this night, my child. But know always that you will ever be in my heart."

  Maquesta watched her mother climb over the rope railing. There was a small boat, with two elves in it, waiting for her. One of the elves blew a glittery powder into the air, and Maq coughed as the cloud of it engulfed her. Then she saw the darkness swallow her mother, and she forgot everything that transpired that night. The next morning she saw her father crying, realizing his wife was gone. Melas thought she might have slipped overboard and drowned. Then he worried that someone had come for her during the night and stolen her from him. It was that morning Melas and Lendle cut the tips off Maq's ears, fearing that if someone discovered the little girl was a half-elf she would be spirited away, too.

  Maquesta vowed to tell her father what really happened when he was back on the Perechon. He deserved the truth.

  "Maquesta?" the sea elf broke Maq's concentration. The ripples faded. The magic was gone. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes," Maq said. 'Thank you for the vision. I saw my father. He was being cared for when we pulled out of the Lacynos harbor."

  Tailonna took the bucket and threw the water over the side of the ship. "I could let you have another water vision tomorrow if you wish."

  Maquesta declined. "I think I'll concentrate on the present."

  The sea elf smiled. "I'll go back to watch over Fritzen and Lendle now. Fritzen is feeling much better, and I think he needs someone to talk to."

  Maquesta was unaccustomed to Tailonna's new politeness, and disturbed that she would be spending more time with Fritz. She shook her head to get the jealous notion out of it. Fritzen is half sea-ogre and would be better off with someone closer tied to the water, she ruefully decided. Trying to focus on something else, she waved to Koraf.

  The minotaur was near the capstan, talking with Hvel. He nodded to her and moved quickly across the deck.

  "I've been calling you 'Kof'," Maq said. "Perhaps I've been too familiar with you in doing so. I should have asked if you minded. It would have been more polite."

  "Mine is an uncommonly difficult name for human tongues," he said, slightly amused. "And I do not object to the familiarity. It makes me feel… accepted."

  Maquesta watched as the minotaur clomped back to Hvel. It seemed Kof had found a good friend among the crew. As the two chatted, Maq started humming a soft tune, an elvish one about forests.

  Shortly after sunset Maquesta, Ilyatha, Tailonna, and Hvel gathered in the armory. Fritzen was sitting in a chair. Only a thin bandage on his shoulder hinted that he had been wounded. Maq was explaining her plan for trying to bypass the kuo-toa community to reach the nearby morkoth lair. Tailonna drew a map, showing where she thought the colony was, and a likely location for the lair.

  "My people suspect the beast lives in this rocky ridge, where it could have constructed tunnels. We cannot be sure, though," she said. "I will make several vials of a potion that lets you breathe water. It will serve you in case it takes a while to find the beast's home."

  Ilyatha looked at the sea elf's diagram. "I can use my telepathic abilities to reach out and attempt to locate the morkoth, while at the same time keeping us away from the kuo-toa."

  Maquesta stood and nodded to each of her companions. "Then we are decided." They nodded in return. "I, Tailonna, Ilyatha, Kof, and Hvel shall go. Tailonna has volunteered to use her magical nets to capture the kuo-toa."

  "MetoometooMaquestaKar-Thon," Lendle was sitting in his cot, excited at the prospect of breathing water and exploring a new realm.

  "Not this time, my friend," Maq said sternly.

  "What about me?" Fritzen stood and moved his shoulder. "I don't want to miss out on this. And I'm feeling fine."

  "We'll see," Maq and Tailonna said practically in unison.

  Chapter 14

  The Morkoth

  Fritzen was feeling much better—too good to remain cooped up in the airnory-turned-infirmary with a mending gnome who babbled incessantly about various inventions, including how to construct a better mechanical wallet. Having heard enough, and wanting some fresh air and more pleasing company, Fritzen waited until Lendle was sitting up in his cot, busy diagramming improvements to his oar machine, then sneaked up top. He still favored his shoulder, but the view quickly took his mind off the dull ache. The sun was setting on the Blood Sea, and like an overturned bottle of paint the color spilled out over the choppy water, transforming it into an iridescent orange. Pink-tinged seabirds flitted ab
ove the waves, looking for something to eat. Finding a small fish, one released a haunting cry and climbed toward the cloud-filled sky with its wriggling prize.

  Bas-Ohn Koraf stood near the prow, a spyglass pressed to his bull-like head and trained on the shoreline. Maquesta was at the wheel. She steered the Perechon toward the coast while she hummed a haunting tune.

  Fritzen clung to the shadows for several minutes, watching her and trying to guess where she might take the ship. Adjacent to the point possibly, he mused. That was the place he'd select because it was close to open water, allowing them to get under way more quickly in the morning. The half-ogre's lips tugged upward slightly. He was finding himself increasingly comfortable in Maq's presence and was amused that he would seek her out. She seemed content behind the wheel, and the crew didn't hesitate to follower her orders. He certainly had no qualms about following this slip of a woman. But what would Maquesta Kar-Thon do, he wondered, if the mission was successful and her father was returned whole to the Perechon? Step down, of course, Fritzen decided. She'd return the ship to her father's care. But having a taste of being a captain, would she search for a ship of her own? If so, Fritzen suspected he would go with her.

  Oblivious to the watcher, Maq ended the melody and deeply inhaled the salt air. She chewed on her bottom lip and cursed herself for not heading toward shore earlier. She did not want to be caught on the open water at night—the bout with the Blood Sea imps had been bad enough. As if mirroring her prayers, a gust of wind caught the sails, billowing them and speeding her course. The Perechon was near Endscape, she judged by a group of towering rock formations, a place her father used to tell her grand stories about. Her father. Maq shook her head and fought back a tear. Was he holding on? Was he thinking about her, too? She ran her slim fingers through her curly hair and looked at the point, considering anchoring the Perechon off it. No, she decided after a moment. Too close to open water. Instead she selected the cove, and the ship responded to her gentle turn of the wheel.