The Black Lord was stunned. "You have a gifted tongue, Cyric. Perhaps I should not waste such skills by slaughtering you where you stand, though that would be amusing." Bane gestured for the sorceress to draw near. She had backed herself into a corner, near the door. "Have Durrock released from his torments and brought before me. We are going to give the thief a chance to hang himself."
Tarana bowed and raced from the chamber.
When she was gone, Bane walked to the thief's side. "Now that my insane assistant has scampered away, is there anything about the mage you have not told me?"
A name flashed into Cyric's mind. Midnight's true name. The words were poised on the end of his tongue, but he drew them back. With that information, the Black Lord could lay claim to the soul of the mage in an instant, and Cyric wasn't sure that that would be at all acceptable. Not yet, anyway.
"No," Cyric said firmly, looking up into the god's eyes. "There is nothing else."
The door to the chamber opened, and Durrock was brought before the Black Lord in chains. Cyric flinched as he stared at the assassin's disfigured face. Then he realized that the burn marks were very old. Only a few of the scars that lined his body had been inflicted recently.
"I am in a forgiving mood this day, Durrock. I'm sure it won't last," Bane told the assassin then he returned to his throne. "I have a task for you, assassin. You will travel to Tantras with this thief and spy on his former allies. You know them quite well, since you escorted them into Scardale."
Durrock stiffened and bowed his head. Before the scarred assassin looked to the ground, Cyric saw an intense hatred flash in Durrock's eves.
Bane continued. "As I told you before, I do not want the mage killed. The cleric is of no consequence. As for the fighter, Kelemvor Lyonsbane, I want his head adorning a gate on this building as soon as possible. Have I made myself perfectly clear?" Bane asked sharply.
"You have, Lord Bane," Durrock answered, his voice a growl.
"You have a question?" Bane said when Cyric didn't answer quickly.
The thief nodded, glanced at Durrock then looked back at Bane. "What if they discover the location of the… artifact we spoke of? What if they try to take it from Tantras?"
Bane frowned and gripped his throne tightly. "Then, Cyric, they will all have to die."
It had been two days since the heroes left the Port of Scardale in the stolen galley. At night, a glowing spot on the horizon had marked the location of the city the Queen of the Night journeyed toward. The cause of the unearthly light couldn't be explained, but as the travelers drew closer to the city, the illumination grew brighter. Other than this strange light, the journey across the Dragon Reach was uneventful. The slaves prowled the upper decks in shifts, luxuriating in the feel of the warm sun upon their faces. Adon, as usual, kept to himself. Midnight divided her time between long hours with her spellbook and wonderful, tender moments of love with Kelemvor.
After the escape from Scardale, the fighter had been more relaxed than Midnight had ever seen him, though he did have occasional bouts of worry that the curse had not been lifted for good. Although she was happy, too, the mage found herself wondering if Kelemvor would be happier going back to the adventuring life, perhaps even sailing with Bjorn and his crew. She wondered, too, if the fighter desired to follow that course rather than put himself at risk in Tantras. Soon, the question started to plague Midnight. Similar circumstances had driven a wedge between the lovers before, in Shadowdale, and she did not want history to repeat itself.
Finally she confronted Kelemvor as they stood near the bow, looking out at waves ahead and the dark craggy shoreline that they were fast approaching. It was a few hours after morningfeast.
"I am going with you," Kelemvor told her simply. "I have no destiny to fulfill, other than remaining at your side." After a moment, he looked at the mage, a serious look on his face. "You, on the other hand, seem to have a grand destiny, a path laid out for you by the gods themselves."
"But isn't being dragged along in my wake, following me as I follow my destiny, just another curse, Kel?" Midnight asked somberly. "You'll have less control of your life than you did before."
The fighter took her in his arms and kissed her.
"I love you," Midnight said softly, the words escaping her lips before she even realized what she was about to say.
"And I you," Kelemvor whispered and kissed her again. The lovers stood in each other's arms for a moment. "It won't be long before we land," the green-eyed fighter sighed at last. "We should alert Adon." The lovers walked off, arm-in-arm.
Ten minutes later, Midnight and Kelemvor found Adon on the deck. Bjorn and Liane joined them. Tantras loomed in the distance.
"It's not as big as Scardale, but it's not that much different," Bjorn told the heroes. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather go to the Living City?"
"We have business in Tantras," Adon said, the light in his eyes darkening as he spoke.
An hour later, the Queen of the Night entered Tantras harbor. The tip of a huge ridge hooked into the Dragon Reach, forming a natural breakwall, and the ship sailed toward a gap in the southern part of the wall. Massive catapults guarded the harbor from positions along the rocky inner wall. The harbor was filled to overflowing with ships, and watchmen signaled the Queen of the Night to fly its color.
"Full stop," Bjorn ordered then turned to the heroes. ''We don't have any colors to fly, so we can't move any closer. You can use a rowboat to get to shore. They won't bother with us if we drop you then move off."
"Fair enough," Kelemvor agreed and slapped the captain on the back. Each of the heroes was given well-stocked travel bags, and their purses were filled with gold from the Zhentish ship's stores, compliments of Bjorn and the crew. Then the heroes climbed down the rope ladder into a row-boat. Midnight seemed nervous as she settled onto the small boat, and she stared toward land whenever possible. Kelemvor recalled her many near-fatal accidents on the Ashaba and covered her hand with his own.
"I'll row," Adon said flatly, leaving the lovers to themselves. The cleric released the lines holding the boat in place then looked up at the Queen of the Night to see the captain waving farewell. Adon started to move the small boat toward Tantras.
"If we had stayed with Bjorn, it could have been a fresh beginning for us all," Midnight said as she watched the stolen galley move away.
"I doubt it," Kelemvor replied. "We'd be fighting in a week in the close quarters of a ship, at each other's throats in a month."
"You think so little of our relationship?" Midnight asked, genuinely surprised.
"Not at all," the fighter said as he placed his arm around her waist. "But we both need the hint of danger in the air and open spaces to roam, don't we? Makes life a bit more exciting."
Midnight laughed a small, sharp, bitter laugh. "I've talked to gods and seen them destroyed, been put on trial for the murder of the Dales' most powerful mage, and sentenced to death. I was nearly drowned in the Ashaba, and I've been hunted like a dog by the soldiers of a mad god. Boredom would not be unwelcome at this point, destiny or no."
As the boat came within a hundred yards of the port, watchmen pointed the heroes to a small bay near the north end of the harbor. A small delegation of men, including two soldiers armed with swords and crossbows who wore the symbol of Torm — a metal gauntlet — met the heroes as they climbed from the ship and secured it to its moorings.
"Please state your business," a middle-aged man at the head of the delegation asked them, a bored expression on his face.
Midnight explained all they had been through in Scardale although she left out their true purpose for journeying to Tantras.