The Stowaway (Stone of Tymora) by R.A. Salvatore & Geno Salvatore

Author:R.A. Salvatore & Geno Salvatore [Salvatore, R.A.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2010-01-20T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

As we hit the ocean, the waves rose up around us, but they did not slow Haze’s speed. She ran up and down over the cresting water. The jarring motion sent my stomach reeling. I was afraid I might vomit, though thankfully I had not eaten anything since the night before.

I pressed my face tightly against Perrault’s back, and after a while, I lifted my head to look around. I should have done so much sooner. The sun was uncomfortably warm on my head, but the salty ocean wind felt cool.

I noticed Perrault held Haze’s reins with only his right hand, despite our swift pace. The sight upset my stomach even more than the cresting waves.

I swallowed. “Are you sure your shoulder is all right, sir?”

“Maimun, do not pester me with your questions right now.” Perrault said. But I could hear the pain in his voice. “Close your eyes. We have a long journey ahead.”

I did as I was told. The sounds, the smells, and the feeling of that glorious wind swept over me, and soon all thoughts of my tossing stomach were lost—along with my sense of time. I couldn’t say how long we rode before Haze came to a stop.

I opened my eyes to a magnificent sight: a ship had grown from the ocean in front of us!

I had seen ships before, but mostly in the distance—even the ones on the river at Baldur’s Gate—but I had never seen one up close. The sheer size of the mighty vessel staggered me. It must have been a hundred feet long! It moved across the great flat plain of the ocean with impressive speed, and Haze had to run to keep up with it. I studied the deck and the massive square sails. I watched, my mouth hanging open, as the great sheets of white furled upward, seeming to rise of their own free will, and the ship slowed.

A dozen sailors stood at the rail. Their expressions mirrored my own, mouths hanging open, eyes wide, and it took me a moment to realize what they were staring at. Then it hit me: The ship they stood upon, for all its size, was supposed to be there. The horse on which Perrault and I rode was not.

Another man joined the crew at the rail. I knew he must be the captain, for he was well dressed—or would have been, if his clothing hadn’t been so old. The blue jacket he wore must have once been covered with ornaments, but all that remained was one brass button and loose golden threads. Upon his head sat a dusty hat much decorated in brass. It had a strange shape, almost flat, with corners sticking out far to the sides of his head. A tassel of the same golden thread as his bandolier hung down on each side of the hat. He would have looked like a gentleman, even a noble, except his brown hair was wild and untrimmed, and the look in his eye was just as wild.

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