The Spine of the World - By R. A. Salvatore Page 0,64
they could skitter away.
"I bade him to hold on the justice for the pair," Robillard replied, "as you requested. We shall need them to confirm that these newest two were in on the attack, as well."
Deudermont nodded and waved the trio away, falling into his own thoughts. He still didn't believe that Wulfgar could be involved, though he had no idea how he might prove it. In Luskan, as in most of the cities of Faerun, even the appearance of criminal activity could get a man hanged, or drawn and quartered, or whatever unpleasant manner of death the presiding magistrate could think up.
*****
"An honest trader, I be, and ye got no proof otherways," Captain Pinnickers of Bowlegged Lady declared, leaning over the taffrail and calling out protests against the appearance of the imposing Sea Sprite, catapult and ballista and ranks of archers trained on his decks.
"As I have already told you, Captain Pinnickers, we have come not for your ship, nor for you, but for a pair you harbor," Robillard answered with all due respect.
"Bah! Go away with ye, or I'll be callin' out the city guard!" the tough, old sea dog declared.
"No difficult task," Robillard replied smugly, and he motioned to the wharves beside Bowlegged Lady. Captain Pinnickers turned to see a hundred city soldiers or more lining the dock, grim-faced and armed for battle.
"You have nowhere to run or hide," Robillard explained. "I ask your permission one more time as a courtesy to you. For your own sake, allow me and my crew to board your ship and find the pair we seek."
"My ship!" Pinnicker said, poking a finger into his chest.
"Or I shall order my gunners to have at it," Robillard explained, standing tall and imposing at Sea Sprite's rail, all pretense of politeness flown. "I shall join in with spells of destruction you cannot even begin to imagine. Then we will search the wreckage for the pair ourselves."
Pinnicker seemed to shrink back just a bit, but he held fast his grim and determined visage.
"I offer you the choice one last time," Robillard said, his mock politeness returning.
"Fine choice," Pinnicker grumbled. He gave a helpless little wave, indicating that Robillard and the others should cross to his deck.
They found Creeps Sharky and Tee-a-nicknick in short order, with Robillard easily identifying them. They also found an interesting item on a beam near the tattooed man-creature: a hollow tube.
"Blowgun," Waillan Micanty explained, presenting it to Robillard.
"Indeed," said the wizard, examining the exotic weapon and quickly confirming its use from the design. "What might someone shoot from it?"
"Something small with an end shaped to fill the tube," Micanty explained. He took the weapon hack, pursed his lips, and blew through the tube. "It wouldn't work well if too much wind escaped around the dart."
"Small, you say. Like a cat's claw?" Robillard asked, eyeing the captured pair. "With a pliable, feathered end?"
Following Robillard's gaze at the miserable prisoners, Waillan Micanty nodded grimly.
*****
Wulfgar was lost somewhere far beyond pain, hanging limply from his shackled wrists, both bloody and torn. The muscles on the back of his neck and shoulders had long ago knotted, and even if he had been released and dropped to the floor, only gravity would have changed his posture.
The pain had pushed too far and too hard and had released Wulfgar from his present prison. Unfortunately for the big man, that escape had only taken him to another prison, a darker place by far, with torments beyond anything these mortal men could inflict upon him. Tempting, naked, and wickedly beautiful succubi flew about him. The great pincer-armed glabrezu came at him repeatedly, snapping, snapping, nipping pieces of his body away. All the while he heard the demonic laughter of Errtu the conqueror. Errtu the great balor who hated Drizzt Do'Urden above all other mortals and played out that anger continually upon Wulfgar.
"Wulfgar?" The call came from far away, not a throaty, demonic voice like Errtu's, but gentle and soft.
Wulfgar knew the trap, the false hopes, the feigned friendship. Errtu had played this one on him countless times, finding him in his moments of despair, lifting him from the emotional valleys, then dropping him even deeper into the pit of black hopelessness.
"I have spoken with Morik," the voice went on, but Wulfgar was no longer listening.
"He claims innocence," Captain Deudermont stubbornly continued, despite Robillard's huffing doubts at his side. "Yet the dog Sharky has implicated you both."
Trying to ignore the words, Wulfgar let out a low growl, certain that it