The Emerald Storm (The Riyria Revelations #4)

“Oh? Remember how many times you banged your head?”


Hadrian frowned at him. “You really do hate dwarves, don’t you? Honestly, I’m surprised you let Magnus stay at the abbey. All right, so there’s a bit too much dwarven architecture there, but it sure is built well. You’ve got to admit that, and you liked the wine, remember?”

Royce shrugged. “What were you going to say about the Tenkin?”

“Oh, yeah. His name is Staul.”

“Doesn’t seem like the sailor type.”

“No.” Hadrian shook his head. “He’s a warrior. Most Tenkin men are. Thing is Tenkins never leave the Gur Em.”

“The what?”

“You’ve never been to Calis, have you? The whole eastern half is a tropical forest and the thickest part is a jungle they call the Gur Em. This is the first time I’ve ever seen a Tenkin outside of Calis, which makes me think Staul is an outcast.”

“Doesn’t sound like the type Merrick would be doing business with.”

“So, Defoe remains our number one.” Hadrian thought a moment, “Ya think he had anything to do with Drew’s death?”

“Maybe,” Royce replied, taking a sip of rum. “He was on the main mast that night, but I was too sick to pay attention. I guess Drew could have just fallen, but I certainly wouldn’t put it past Defoe to give him a little push. He’d need a reason, though.”

“Drew and Defoe were both at a card game earlier that night. Drew won the pot and if Defoe is a thief…”

Royce shook his head. “Defoe wouldn’t kill him over a gambling dispute, not unless it was really big money and the coppers and silvers they were likely playing for isn’t what Defoe would think of as big money. That doesn’t mean he didn’t kill him, it just wasn’t about gambling. Anything else happen at the game?”

“Not really, although Drew did mention he was going to talk to Grady the next morning at breakfast about someone coming aboard to help find a horn. Drew thought it was kinda funny, actually. He seemed to think the horn was easy to find. He was going to go into more detai at breakfast.”

“Maybe Drew overheard something Defoe preferred he hadn’t. That’s a more likely reason. But, a horn?”





***




They came across Wyatt at the ship’s wheel. His plumed hat was off and his white linen shirt fluttered about his tan skin like a personal sail. He had the Storm tight-over, playing the pressure of the rudder against the press of the wind. He was staring out at the headland with glassy eyes as they approached, but when he spotted them he abruptly cast his head down at the binnacle and quickly wiped his face with the sleeve of his forearm.

“You all right?” Hadrian asked.

“Y-yeah,” Wyatt croaked, then coughed to clear his throat. “Fine.” He sniffed and wiped his nose.

“There’s a good chance we’ll find her,” Royce assured him.

“See,” Hadrian said, “you’ve even got Mister Cynical feeling optimistic about your chances. That’s gotta count for something.”

Wyatt forced a smile.

“Hey, we’ve got a question for you,” Royce said. “Do you have any idea what the horn is?”

“Sure, you’re looking right at it,” Wyatt declared, gesturing toward the point. “That’s the Horn of Delgos. As soon as we clear it, the captain will likely order the ship to weather round the point and then tack windward.”

Royce frowned. “Let’s assume for just a moment that I’m not an experienced sailor, shall we?”

Wyatt chuckled. “We’re gonna make a left turn and head east.”

“How do you know?”

Wyatt shrugged. “The horn is the farthest spit of land south. If we stay on this course, we’ll sail into the open sea. There’s nothing out there but whirlpools, Dacca, and sea serpents. If we weather round—er—turn left, we’ll sail up the eastern coast of Delgos.”

“And what’s up that way?”

“Not much. These cliffs you see continue all the way round to Vandon, the only other sea port in Delgos. Besides being the headquarters for the Spice Company, it is also a haven for pirates, or more accurately the haven for pirates. We aren’t going there either. The Storm is as fine a ship as they come, but the jackals would gather like a pack of wolves, and dog her until we surrendered or they sank us.”

“How does the Spice Company manage any trade, surrounded by pirates?”

“Who do you think runs the spice company?”

“Oh.”

“Beyond that?” Royce asked.

“Dagastan Bay and the whole coast of Calis, with ports at Wesbaden, and Dagastan. Then you drift out of civilization and into the Ba Ran Archipelago, and no one, not even pirates, go there.”

“And you’re sure this here is the horn?”

“Yep, every sailor who’s ever been in the Sharon knows it. It’d be impossible to miss old Drumindor.”

Though the coast was still many leagues off, the ancient dwarven edifice was clearly visible now. It stood taller than anything Hadrian had ever seen, and he smiled at the irony knowing dwarves built it. It was close to eight hundred feet from the raw rocky base where waves crashed, to the top of the dome. It appeared to be equal parts fortification and monument. In some respects, it resembled two massive gears laid on their sides, huge cylinders with teeth jutting seaward. From the tops of each tower, smoke rose skyward. Midway up were fins—arced openings like gigantic teapot spouts that pointed seaward. Between the twin towers was a single-span stone bridge connecting them like a lintel over the entrance of the harbor.

“Can’t even miss her at night the way she lights up. You should see her during a full moon when they blow the vents. It puts on quite a show. She’s built on a volcano and the venting prevents too much pressure from building up. Ships in the area often arrange to pass the point at the full moon just for the entertainment. But they also keep their distance. The dwarves that built thatfortress sure knew what they were doin’. No ship can enter Terlando Bay if the masters of Drumindor don’t want them to. They can spew molten rock for hundreds of feet and burn a fleet of ships to drifting ash in minutes.”

“We’re familiar with how that works,” Royce said, coldly.

Wyatt cocked an eyebrow. “Bad experience?”

“We had a job there once,” Hadrian replied. “A dwarf, named Gravis, was angry about humans desecrating what he considered a dwarven masterpiece. We had to get in to stop him.”

“You broke into Drumindor?” Wyatt looked impressed. “I thought that was impossible.”

“Just about,” Royce answered, “and we didn’t get paid enough for the trouble it gave me.”

Hadrian snorted, “You? I was the one who nearly died making that leap. You just hung there and laughed.”

“How’d you get in? I heard that place is kept tighter than Cornelius DeLur’s purse,” Wyatt pressed.