Stel smiled unpleasantly. “You were given a choice,
Kruug. Sail with me or surrender the TAURON to a
BRAVER captain who would.”
Kruug growled, but he backed down.
For one of Kruug’s race, the choice was no choice at
all. No minotaur dared let himself be thought a coward.
Stel looked past the captain, who turned to see what
had the cleric’s attention. Vandor – tied to one of the masts
– was unable to turn around, but he knew from the
clanking sounds that the draconians must be returning
from their excursion below deck. The two draconians
dragged forward a peculiar metal bowl on three legs.
Captain Kruug glared at the kapak.
“And I’ll throw those lizards over, too, especially the
one who can’t keep his mouth shut!” Kruug added. “If he
burns one more hole through the deck . . .” But the
minotaur was being ignored. Seeking a target on which to
vent his frustration, Kruug glanced down at Vandor, who
suddenly sought a way to shrink into the mast. The
minotaur’s smile vied with that of the dreadwolf for
number of huge, sharp teeth. “And maybe I’ll throw this
piece of offal over right now!”
“Touch him, my homed friend, and your first mate
finds himself promoted.” Stel was deadly, coldly serious.
Kruug was taken aback. “What’s so special about this
thieving little fox?”
“Him?” Stel glanced at Vandor. “By himself, he is
worthless.”
Despite his predicament, Vandor was offended.
“It is his blood I find invaluable,” Stel continued.
Vandor was no longer offended … he was too busy
trying to recall the proper prayers for Shinare. If he’d had
any doubt before as to his fate, that doubt was gone now.
“I do not understand,” replied the captain.
Stel looked down at the skull on the chain. “In a few
minutes, Captain Kruug, you AND Vandor Grizt will
understand. We are nearing our destination. Please have
your crew prepare to stop this vessel.”
“In this deep water, our anchor won’t hold!” Kruug
protested.
“We do not need to be completely still. Just make
certain we stay within the region. I think you can manage
that, captain. I was TOLD that you are an expert at your
craft.”
Kruug bridled. “I’ve been sailing these waters – ”
A crackle of thunder drowned out whatever the
minotaur said after that, but the fury on his face and the
speed with which he departed the vicinity of Prefect Stel
spoke plainly. Vandor Grizt was sorry to see the captain
leave. Of all Vandor’s unsavory companions, the minotaur
captain was the only one who seemed to share his fear.
Kruug was merely carrying out orders and with a lack of
enthusiasm that Vandor dismally appreciated.
The draconians set up the altar quickly despite the
constant rocking of the ship. They lashed the legs of the
metal monstrosity to various areas of the deck, assuring
that the huge bowl would remain in place regardless of
how rough the sea. When the draconians were finished,
the two stumbled back to Stel, who seemed to have no
trouble moving about, unlike everyone else.
“The sea grows no calmer, prefect!” hissed the sivak.
“Despite your prayers to the Sea Queen, the ropes may not
hold!”
“She will listen!” Stel declared. “I have sought her
good will for three days now. We dare not attempt this
without the Sea Queen’s favor. We dare not steal from her
domain!” Stel paused, considering. He glanced at Vandor
Grizt, then again at the draconians. “I will have to give an
offering of greater value than I had supposed. Something
that will prove to Zeboim my respect for her majesty!
Something that will acknowledge her precedence over all
else in this endeavor! It will have to be now!”
“Now?” snarled the kapak, surprised. “But now is the
time for your evening devotions to Chemosh, prefect!”
“Chemosh will understand.” Stel turned again to
Vandor and pointed. “Unbind him!”
As the draconians undid his bonds, Vandor tried to
slip free of them. For a brief moment, he escaped, but then
the dreadwolf was in front of him, ready to spring.
Vandor’s terrified moment of hesitation was sufficient
time to permit the draconians to reestablish their hold on