“I guess someone like you wouldn’t,” Zed said. “You underestimated me. And that’s how things would play out in that little scenario you were running through your head. If you attacked Aeven, you’d just underestimate us again. Like you underestimated me. Like you underestimated Seren. You’d make a mistake-like you always do-but this time I’d kill you. So put it out of your head, elf. You’re wasting your time thinking about it.”
Shaimin gave a tight, bitter smile. “Thank you for your opinion, Arthen,” he said. “I shall note that accordingly. In the meantime, I don’t care how you feel about me. Dalan has given me permission to remain here, and this ship is his property.”
“Dalan’s good will carries you only so far with me,” Zed said. “If I think you’re up to anything, I’ll toss you over the side.”
“And I’ll bank the ship to help dump you off,” Pherris said from the ship’s helm. “Count on that.” The gnome looked at the elf in silent hatred. Tristam was taken aback; he’d never seen Pherris look at anyone like that before. The captain obviously hadn’t forgiven Shaimin for humiliating him in Stormhome.
The elf’s handsome face paled slightly. He glanced to one side, studying the long drop to the Brelish plains below. He offered a brief bow. “Perhaps I shall retire to my cabin for a time,” he said. “Things seem a bit tense up here.”
The elf sauntered across the deck and climbed down into the hold. All the while, his cold eyes never left Zed’s. Dalan’s cabin hatch opened as the elf disappeared. The guildmaster sighed uncomfortably as he stood beside Zed. Dalan’s shaggy dog followed, slumping on the deck beside his master and nestling his muzzle between his paws.
“Taking him along was a foolish risk, Dalan,” Zed said grimly. “You caution us all along that we should never let knowledge of the Legacy fall into the wrong hands and then you invite that killer into our confidence.”
“Bringing Shaimin along is no more a risk than telling our entire story to that Captain Draikus,” Dalan replied. “Not that it matters at this point. The Legacy’s secret is not nearly as dangerous as it once was. Shaimin, in his peculiar way, is as trustworthy as a knight. A Thuranni is at least predictable. I would wager that even when Shaimin abandoned you, he did not break whatever promises he made.”
“He swore our lives and honor were safe in his care, so long as his was safe in ours,” Zed said.
“So when you led him into danger, he left,” Dalan said with a chuckle. “I’m surprised you let him get away with such a promise. It has loopholes large enough to fly this airship through.”
“I realized that at the time,” Zed said. “We were desperate. Honestly I think I would have settled for ‘I promise not to kill you.’ We needed help that badly.”
“Then why waste energy being angry at Shaimin?” Dalan asked. “He only acted to save himself. You have only yourself to blame if you expected more.”
“I take it personally when people leave me to die,” Zed said.
“If Zed has grown accustomed to allies who would risk themselves on his behalf,” Pherris said, looking back at Dalan, “I would hardly count that as a weakness, Master d’Cannith.”
“A noble way of looking at things,” Dalan said. “I prefer to be more realistic. Shaimin d’Thuranni may be a self-centered murderer, but he knows Marth better than most of us. He is a worthy ally who could easily become a dangerous enemy. When we finish this, he’ll be out of our lives. Please don’t toss him over the side because of your bruised ego, Arthen. I don’t need his cousins hunting me in revenge.”
Zed scowled.
“How long until we reach Sharn, Captain?” Dalan asked.
“No more than an hour,” Pherris replied.
Dalan sighed. “I hope you have a good plan, Master Xain,” he said. “This ship still has no weapons. It would be tragic for us to follow Marth all this way only to watch him blast us from the sky.”
Tristam nudged a large barrel with his foot and lifted the lid. It was filled with several small clay bottles. “Alchemist’s fire, in pressurized flasks,” Tristam said. “When thrown against a solid surface, they should explode. If we can get close enough to the Moon, they’ll give us an edge against Marth’s lightning.”
“What about the Legacy?” Zed asked. “Won’t it just neutralize them?”
Tristam shook his head. “Magic is a necessary component in their creation, but they aren’t inherently magical,” he said. “They’ll explode even if the Legacy goes off right next to them.” He carefully replaced the lid. “Just be careful. The bottles are somewhat fragile.”
Zed and Dalan both took an unconscious step back. Pherris cast the barrel a wary glance from his place at the helm.
“That isn’t all I’ve been working on, either,” Tristam added. “When I fought Marth over Nathyrr, he was carrying a black sphere like the one Norra gave me back in Zul’nadn. It acted as a remote focus for the Legacy’s power but protected him as well. It allowed him to use his own magic. I couldn’t study the effect for long, but I think I’ve been able to duplicate it.” He reached into his coat and drew out two small black glass spheres. “Aeven, one is for you.”
The dryad looked at Tristam in surprise, then peered at the sphere suspiciously.
“Please,” Tristam said, offering it to her. “Hold it close, and the Legacy won’t harm you.”
The dryad took the sphere gingerly, clasping it between her small hands. “Thank you,” she said in a soft voice.
“The other one’s for Omax?” Zed asked.
“For me,” Tristam said, tucking the sphere back into his pocket. “Omax doesn’t need one. He was immune to the Legacy’s effects over Fort Ash.”
“How?” Dalan asked.
Tristam hesitated, running one hand through his unkempt hair. “I’m really not sure,” he said. “It has something to do with using the ship’s containment core to repair him. Somehow, a part of the Legacy’s power remained with him.”
“What about Eraina?” Zed asked. “I don’t suppose you had time to make crystals for her as well?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Tristam said. “I made Aeven’s first since she would die without one.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Zed said, shrugging. “A paladin who can’t cope without his magic is no paladin at all.” Tristam couldn’t help but think that Zed’s expression was faintly amused.
Tristam chewed his lip in thought, then turned suddenly to face Dalan. “Dalan, what did you mean earlier?” Tristam asked. “When you said the Legacy’s secret is not nearly as dangerous as it once was?”
“Precisely what I said,” Dalan said. “The Legacy was a terrible danger to the world because it was unknown, unpredictable, and unstoppable. Now we know that its power is not absolute. The Mourning Dawn proved immune, and now you claim you can protect others as well. Given more time, I’m certain similar counters would be developed. The Legacy is not the invincible menace it once was.” The guildmaster smiled cynically. “I speak of generalities, of course. At the moment it’s still quite dangerous enough. Thousands of Sharn citizens will discover that if we are not triumphant.” Dalan folded his arms behind his back, pacing across the deck. His dog rose and followed him, scampering to get out of his way each time his master turned.
“Nervous?” Tristam asked.
“Afraid,” Dalan replied with a small laugh.
“Afraid?” Zed asked in surprise.
“I savor the sensation of power,” Dalan said. “I enjoy being in control. Yet I am useless in a confrontation such as this. All preparations have been made. In the final battle … there is no use for me. All I can do is trust that the rest of you are strong enough. There is absolutely nothing more I can do-and that fills me with fear.”
“You could pray for us, Dalan,” Zed said.
“I thought you were no longer a religious man, Arthen,” Dalan said.
The inquisitive grinned.
Tristam looked toward the southwest. The soaring towers of Sharn were now clearly visible on the horizon, though still a long distance away. The city truly was an awe-inspiring sight. The towers reached so high that the city was taller than it was wide.