Corsair: Blades of Moonsea, Book II (Forgotten Realms: Blades of the Moonsea Series 2) by Richard Baker

Author:Richard Baker [Baker, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780786956159
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2010-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

8 Marpenoth, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)

Sunrise was still an hour away as Geran made his way from the harbor districts toward the castle of Griffonwatch. More than a little fatigued by two sleepless nights and the bonechilling cold of his swim in the harbor, he’d left Hulburg’s defenders to round up the last of the Black Moon corsairs stranded ashore. The swordmage resigned himself to a long, cold walk through the chaotic streets, and started up the hilly, cobblestone-paved path of Plank Street. He meant to speak with the harmach before he allowed himself to fall into bed.

He passed by Erstenwold’s and noted that the store seemed mostly undamaged, although several of the windows were broken and a black smudge along one wall showed where some pirate had tried to set it afire. Mirya was not there, which didn’t surprise him; her house was on the landward side of Hulburg. Given the late hour of the pirate raid, she wouldn’t have been anywhere near the harbor district. He climbed up the steps to the storefront and peered into the darkened windows to reassure himself that nothing was out of place inside.

“Hey, what’re you up to?” Several Hulburgans in the motley arms of the Spearmeet watched Geran warily from the street. The militiamen approached with their spears leveled, led by a strapping young man with a brown beard. “Get away from there!” he shouted at Geran.

Geran turned and raised his hand in a placating gesture. “It’s me—Geran Hulmaster. You can point your spear away from me, Brun Osting.”

Brun took a step forward and studied Geran with a suspicious look before recognition dawned in his face. He quickly pointed his spear skyward. “Begging your pardon, Lord Geran. I didn’t make you out in those clothes. You look just like one o’ those sea reavers we’ve been chasing after all night.”

“No fault of yours, Brun. I’ve spent the last tenday passing myself off as a pirate.” Geran came back out into the street. “I’m glad to see that you’re well. From what I could tell, the Spearmeet was in the thick of things.”

The young brewer smiled grimly. “Aye, we had our share of fighting. We made sure that plenty of reavers who left their ships never made it back to ’em. But now that we’ve handled the pirates, the thrice-damned Cinderfists are out looking for trouble. There’s all kinds of fighting over in the Tailings and down along the poorer parts of Easthead. We were just heading that way to lend a hand.” He glanced over Geran’s shoulder at the signboard for Erstenwold Provisioners, and suddenly he fell silent. His face fell, and he looked at the ground.

“What?” Geran asked. “What is it, Brun?”

“It’s Mistress Erstenwold, Lord Geran,” the brewer said. “You couldn’t have heard if you’ve been away from Hulburg, but she’s gone missing.”

“Missing?” Cold dread squeezed Geran’s heart. Mirya missing? If she was not in Hulburg, there was no place she would have gone of her own free will.

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