Kelemvor cursed loudly and stormed to the ship behind the mage. "Hurry up, Adon," he grumbled. "Our mage has decided it's time to go."
Adon took one last look back at Tantras and thought of Torm's words to him in the temple's garden. The scarred cleric smiled. Yes, he thought, my duty is clear. My friends need me. Adon paused for a moment and straightened his hair, then joined Midnight and Kelemvor aboard the ship.
In the shadows of a warehouse near the pier, the young red-haired man who had helped Elminster earlier watched as the heroes departed. As soon as Adon had climbed aboard the ship, he ran for a small boat that bore a sign declaring it off duty. The red-haired man tore the sign from the boat, threw it into the water, and kicked the brawny man who lay asleep in the bow.
"I was beginning to think you would never show," the boatman rumbled, rubbing the wart on his bulbous nose.
"You're not being paid to think. Just get this heap of rotting wood moving," the young man spat. "You know where to go." He climbed into the boat, and the brawny man pulled out a set of oars and started to row.
The small boat soon left the harbor and made its way along the shore south of Tantras. A night-black trireme stood in a small cove a few miles away. The red-haired man signaled the ship as he got close, then climbed aboard.
The captain of the Argent was waiting to greet him.
"Sabinus," Cyric said happily as he helped the red-haired man climb aboard. "What have you to report?"
The smuggler told all that he had heard and described the ship in which the heroes were leaving Tantras. The young man laughed as he showed Cyric the gold coin Elminster had given him.
Cyric smiled. "You've done well. You'll most certainly be rewarded."
"Tantras is no longer safe for me," the red-haired man told the thief. "You promised me passage to a place far from here."
"And I will deliver on my promise," Cyric said casually, putting his arm around the smuggler's shoulder. "I always do."
Sabinus never heard Cyric's dagger leave its sheath, but the smuggler felt the biting pain as the blade bit into his neck. He stumbled. The thief stabbed Sabinus again and pushed him over the railing. The red-haired man was dead before he hit the water.
Cyric looked down at the body. "Nothing personal," he muttered. "But I have no further need of your services."
Turning from the railing, the hawk-nosed man called for his lieutenant and told him that they were going to follow the ship that carried the heroes. In return, Dalzhel saluted his captain then barked a string of orders to the sole survivors of the Zhentish fleet from Scardale.
Earlier that day, when Cyric saw the strange vortex form above the city, he had ordered the crew to take the Argent out into the Dragon Reach, away from the battling avatars. The ship and its crew survived thanks to that command. Cyric knew that his men's gratitude would serve him well in the days to come.
The thief stared out at the blood-red sun setting over Faerun. He thought of his former allies and all that Sabinus had told him about Kelemvor's threats and Adon's comments. For once, the hawk-nosed man thought sourly, the fighter and the cleric were right.
Cyric had decided days ago that when next he met Midnight and her allies, he would offer them no mercy if they dared to stand in his way.