than annoy and perhaps embarrass Barrabus. He was only there, after all, on behalf of Herzgo Alegni, who in turn was only there because of his master’s nefarious designs on Neverwinter, and he cared not a whit about the city or any of its inhabitants.
“I’ll interrogate my prisoner after she has sat in the darkness, and in fear, for some time,” Barrabus explained to Jelvus Grinch, and started away.
Jelvus Grinch held out an arm to stop him. “Master Barrabus,” he said politely, withdrawing the arm as the gray man fixed him with an icy stare.
“We’re fighting for our lives out here, for the very existence of Neverwinter,” Jelvus Grinch went on. “Against the forces of chaos and … insanity, it seems! Against these wretched and shriveled undead, who rise unbidden against us.”
“Not unbidden,” Barrabus assured him.
“You know!” Jelvus Grinch cleared his throat, composing himself. “You know,” he said more quietly. “You know what’s been happening here. You understand our plight … more than we do, perhaps?”
“Surely,” Barrabus corrected.
Jelvus Grinch started to laugh. Then, in front of scores of warriors and battle mages who looked to him for leadership, the first citizen of Neverwinter bowed low before Barrabus the Gray. “And that’s why we need you,” he said, coming out of the bow.
Barrabus stared at him noncommittally.
“You helped us defend the city this night. You have come to us in a dark hour and helped us carry on. Without your warning, without your blades—”
“My blades were inconsequential,” Barrabus said. “I would be dead on the field, with only minor victories to show for my efforts, had not that other force, who still battle beyond your walls, arrived.”
“And you know of them, too,” Jelvus Grinch said wryly.
Barrabus nodded. Jelvus Grinch grinned from ear to ear and held his arms out wide.
“What do you want?” Barrabus the Gray asked.
“Join us,” Jelvus Grinch replied. Behind him, many cheered again and echoed that sentiment.
“I just did.”
“No,” Jelvus Grinch replied, shaking his head emphatically. “Not just for that one battle. Join us in our efforts to give rise to a new and greater Neverwinter. Work with us, protect us.”
Barrabus the Gray laughed as if that notion was absurd.
“What tribute would you like?” Jelvus Grinch asked. “A statue?” He waved his arm out to the main market square. “A statue of Barrabus the Gray, blades in hand? A tribute to the warrior who kept watch so the new residents of Neverwinter could raise the city anew from the ashes of the cataclysm.”
“A statue?” Barrabus echoed incredulously. “You would carve me in stone?”
Jelvus Grinch held up his hands. “What man … what man of rotting flesh and blood, after all, would not aspire to achieve a measure of immortality in stone?”
“Or perhaps you might employ a medusa,” Barrabus teased, “and save your artisans for work on your buildings.” Suddenly a perfectly wonderful, perfectly cynical, perfectly wicked thought came to him. “Or your bridges,” he added.
“Our bridges?”
“The Winged Wyvern Bridge,” Barrabus said.
Every head in the crowd turned to regard the distant structure, just the tips of the wyvern’s wide-spread wings visible from that vantage point.
“Yes, what of it?”
“It was not always called that,” Barrabus explained.
Jelvus Grinch looked at him curiously.
“For a brief time only,” Barrabus elaborated. “The Lord of Neverwinter renamed it in the days before the cataclysm—perhaps that’s why the angry volcano unleashed its rage on the city.”
“We know nothing of—”
“Of course you don’t,” said Barrabus. “For everyone within the city at that time was killed … everyone but one.” As he ended, he turned to face the first citizen directly, his expression explaining much.
“You?” a thoroughly confused Jelvus Grinch asked.
“I was here,” Barrabus replied. “When the volcano blew, I was in Neverwinter.”
“There were no survivors,” someone behind yelled.
“Then how do I stand before you?” Barrabus said. “I was here on that fateful day.”
In the crowd beyond came many gasps.
“Master Barrabus, you already have our gratitude,” said Jelvus Grinch. “There’s no reason—”
“I’m not lying. I was here.” He pointed down at the Winged Wyvern Bridge. “I was down there, actually, standing atop the Winged Wyvern when the first explosions rolled the ground beneath the city, when the first fireball punched into the sky. I was there when the mountain leaped from afar, charging down from the Crags, through that valley. I watched the river run gray and red with molten rock and ash. I heard the thunder of every roof being shattered by great boulders, tumbling from on high.”