“Got that backward,” Robillard muttered under his breath, but loud enough—and Wulfgar knew, intentionally so—so that Wulfgar could hear.
“Wonderful plan,” the wizard said more loudly. “And you will execute it while your former friends run off, and perhaps get themselves killed, trying to retrieve the magical warhammer that you were too stupid to hold onto. Brilliant, young Wulfgar!”
Wulfgar stood up straight from his work, the hammer falling from his hand, his jaw dropping open in astonishment.
“It is the truth, is it not?” the unshakable wizard calmly asked.
Wulfgar started to respond, but had no practical words to use as armor against the brutal and straightforward attack. However he might parse his response, however he might speak the words to make himself feel better, the simple fact was that Robillard's observations were correct.
“I can not change that which has happened,” the defeated barbarian said as he bent to retrieve his hammer.
“But you can work to right the wrongs you have committed,” Robillard pointed out. “Who are you, Wulfgar of Icewind Dale? And more importantly, who do you wish to be?”
There was nothing friendly in Robillard's sharp tone or in his stiff and hawkish posture, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest, his expression one of absolute superiority. But still, the mere fact that the wizard was showing any interest in Wulfgar's plight at all came as a surprise to the barbarian. He had thought, and not without reason, that Robillard's only concern regarding him was to keep him off Sea Sprite.
Wulfgar's angry stare at Robillard gradually eased into a self-deprecating chuckle. “I am who you see before you,” he said, and he presented himself with his arms wide, his leather smithy apron prominently displayed. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
“A man who lives a lie will soon enough be consumed by it,” Robillard remarked.
Wulfgar's smile became a sudden scowl.
“Wulfgar the smith?” Robillard asked skeptically, and he gave a snort. “You are no laborer, and you fool yourself if you think that this newest pursuit will allow you to hide from the truth. You were born a warrior, bred and trained a warrior, and have ever relished that calling. How many times has Wulfgar charged into battle, the song of Tempus on his lips?”
“Tempus,” Wulfgar said with disdain. “Tempus deserted me.”
“Tempus was with you, and your faith in the code of the warrior sustained you through your trials,” Robillard strongly countered. “All of your trials.”
“You can not know what I endured.”
“I do not care what you endured,” Robillard replied. His claim, and the sheer power in his voice, surely had Wulfgar back on his heels. “I care only for that which I see before me now, a man living a lie and bringing pain to all around him and to himself because he hasn't the courage to face the truth of his own identity.”
“A warrior?” Wulfgar asked doubtfully. “And yet it is Robillard who keeps me from that very pursuit. It is Robillard who bids Captain Deudermont to put me off Sea Sprite,”
“You do not belong on Sea Sprite, of that I am certain,” the wizard calmly replied. “Not at this time, at least. Sea Sprite is no place for one who would charge ahead in pursuit of personal demons. We succeed because we each know our place against the pirates. But I know, too, that you do not belong here, working as a smith in a Waterdhavian shop. Take heed of my words here and now, Wulfgar of Icewind Dale. Your friends are walking into grave danger, and whether you admit it or not, they are doing so for your benefit. If you do not join with them now, or at least go and speak with them to alter their course, there will be consequences. If Drizzt Do'Urden and Catti-brie walk into peril in search of Aegis-fang, whatever the outcome, you will punish yourself for the rest of your life. Not for your stupidity in losing the hammer so much as your cowardice in refusing to join in with them.”
The wizard ended abruptly and just stood staring at the barbarian, whose expression was blank as he digested the truth of the words.
“They have been gone nearly a month,” Wulfgar said, his voice carrying far less conviction. “They could be anywhere.”
“They passed through Luskan, to be sure,” Robillard replied. “I can have you there this very day, and from there, I have contacts to guide our pursuit.”
“You will join in the hunt?”
“For your former friends, yes,” Robillard answered. “For Aegis-fang? We shall see, but it hardly seems my affair.”
Wulfgar looked as if a gentle breeze could blow him right over. He rocked back and forth, from foot to foot, staring blankly.
“Do not refuse this opportunity,” Robillard warned. “It is your one chance to answer the questions that so haunt you and your one chance to belay the guilt that will forever stoop your shoulders. I offer you this, but life's road is too wound with unexpected turns for you to dare hope that the opportunity will ever again be before you.”
“Why?” Wulfgar asked quietly.
“I have explained my reasoning of your current state clearly enough, as well as my beliefs that you should now take the strides to correct your errant course,” Robillard answered, but Wulfgar was shaking his head before the wizard finished the thought.
“No,” the barbarian clarified. “Why you?” When Robillard didn't immediately answer, Wulfgar went on, “You offer to help me, though you have shown me little friendship and I have made no attempt to befriend you. Yet here you are, offering advice and assistance. Why? Is it out of your previous friendship with Drizzt and Catti-brie? Or is it out of your desire to be rid of me, to have me far from your precious Sea Sprite?”
Robillard looked at him slyly. “Yes,” he answered.
Chapter 17 MORIK'S VIEW
He's a bit forthcoming for a prisoner, I'd say,” Sheila Kree remarked to Bellany after an exhausting three hours of interrogation during which Morik the Rogue had volunteered all he knew of Wulfgar, Drizzt, and Catti-brie. Sheila had listened carefully to every word about the dark elf in particular.
“Morik's credo is self-preservation,” Bellany explained. “Nothing more than that. He would put a dagger into Wulfgar's heart himself, if his own life demanded it. Morik will not be glad if Drizzt and Wulfgar come against us. He may even find ways to stay out of the fight and not aid us as we destroy his former companion, but he'll not risk his own life going against us. Nor will he jeopardize the promise of a better future he knows we can offer to him. That's just not his way.”
Sheila could accept the idea of personal gain over communal loyalty readily enough. It was certainly the source of any loyalty her cutthroat band held for her. They were a crew she kept together only by threat and promise—only because they all knew their best personal gains could be found under the command of Sheila Kree. They likewise knew that if they tried to leave, they would face the wrath of the deadly pirate leader and her elite group of commanders.
Sitting at the side of the room, Jule Pepper was even more convinced of Morik's authenticity, mostly because of his actions since he'd arrived with Bellany in Golden Cove. Everything Morik had said had been in complete agreement with all she'd learned of Drizzt during her short stay in Ten-Towns.
“If the drow and Catti-brie intend to come after the warhammer, then we can expect the dwarf, Bruenor, and the halfling, Regis, to join with them,” she said. “And do not dismiss that panther companion Drizzt carries along.”
“Won't forget any of it,” Sheila Kree assured her. “Makes me glad Le'lorinel came to us.”
“Le'lorinel's appearance here might prove to be the most fortunate thing of all,” Bellany agreed.
“Morik's going to fight the elf now?” the pirate leader asked, for Le'lorinel, so obsessed with Drizzt, had requested some private time with this newest addition to the hide-out, one who had just suffered firsthand experience against the hated dark elf.