soldiers of Waterdeep would not admit a drow elf, nor would any boat captain
allow me passage to the south." Without any more delays, he placed the mask over
his face.
For a moment, nothing happened, and Drizzt began to wonder if all of his
concerns had been for naught, if the mask were really a fake. "Nothing," he
chuckled uneasily after a few more seconds, tentative relief in his tone. "It
does not-" Drizzt stopped in midsentence when he noticed Wulfgar's stunned
expression.
Wulfgar fumbled in his pack and produced a shiny metal cup. "Look," he bade
Drizzt and handed him the makeshift mirror.
Drizzt took the cup in trembling hands - hands that trembled more when
Drizzt realized they were no longer black - and raised it to his face. The
reflection was poor - even poorer in the morning light to the drow's night eyes
- but Drizzt could not mistake the image before him. His features had not
changed, but his black skin now held the golden hue of a surface elf. And his
flowing hair, once stark white, showed lustrous yellow, as shiny as if it had
caught the rays of the sun and held them fast.
Only Drizzt's eyes remained as they had been, deep pools of brilliant
lavender. No magic could dim their gleam, and Drizzt felt some small measure of
relief, at least, that his inner person had apparently remained untainted.
Yet he did not know how to react to this blatant alteration. Embarrassed, he
looked to Wulfgar for approval.
Wulfgar's visage had turned sour. "By all the measures known to me, you
appear as any other handsome elven warrior," he answered to Drizzt's inquiring
gaze. "And surely a maiden or two will blush and turn her eyes when you stride
by."
Drizzt looked to the ground and tried to hide his uneasiness with the
assessment.
"But I like it not," Wulfgar continued sincerely. "Not at all." Drizzt
looked back to him uncomfortably, almost sheepishly.
"And I like the look upon your face, the discomfort of your spirit, even
less," Wulfgar continued, now apparently a bit perturbed. "I am a warrior who
has faced giants and dragons without fear. But I would pale at the notion of
battling Drizzt Do'Urden. Remember who you are, noble ranger."
A smile found its way onto Drizzt's face. "Thank you, my friend," he said.
"Of all the challenges I have faced, this is perhaps the most trying."
"I prefer you without the thing," said Wulfgar.
"As do I," came another voice from behind them. They turned to see a
middle-aged man, well muscled and tall, walking toward them. He seemed casual
enough, wearing simple clothes and sporting a neatly trimmed black beard. His
hair, too, was black, though speckles of silver edged it.
"Greetings, Wulfgar and Drizzt Do'Urden," he said with a graceful bow. "I am
Khelben, an associate of Malchor. That most magnificent Harpell bade me to watch
for your arrival."
"A wizard?" Wulfgar asked, not really meaning to speak his thoughts aloud.
Khelben shrugged. "A forester," he replied, "with a love for painting,
though I daresay that I am not very good at it."
Drizzt studied Khelben, not believing either of his disclaimers. The man had
an aura of distinction about him, a distinguished manner and confidence
befitting a lord. By Drizzt's measure, Khelben was more likely Malchor's peer,
at least. And if the man truly loved to paint, Drizzt had no doubt that he had
perfected the art as well as any in the North. "A guide through Waterdeep?"
Drizzt asked.
"A guide to a guide," Khelben answered. "I know of your quest and your
needs. Passage on a ship is not an easy thing to come by this late in the year,
unless you know where to inquire. Come, now, to the south gate, where we might
find one who knows." He found his mount a short distance away and led them to
the south at an easy trot.
They passed the sheer cliff that protected the city's eastern border, a
hundred feet high at its peak. And where the cliff sloped down to sea level,
they found another city wall. Khelben veered away from the city at this point,
though the south gate was now in sight, and indicated a grassy knoll topped by a
single willow.
A small man jumped down from the tree as they breached the knoll, his dark
eyes darting nervously about. He was no pauper, by his dress, and his uneasiness
when they approached only added to Drizzt's suspicions that Khelben was more
than he had presumed.
"Ah, Orlpar, so good of you to come," Khelben said casually. Drizzt and
Wulfgar exchanged knowing smiles; the man had been given no choice in the
matter.
"Greetings," Orlpar said quickly, wanting to finish the business as
expediently as possible. "The passage is secured. Have you the payment?"
"When?" Khelben asked.
"A week," replied Orlpar. "The Coast Dancer puts out in a week."
Khelben did not miss the worried looks that Drizzt and Wulfgar now
exchanged. "That is too long," he told Orlpar. "Every sailor in port owes you a
favor. My friends cannot wait."
"These arrangements take time!" Orlpar argued, his voice rising. But then,
as if he suddenly remembered who he was addressing, he shrank back and dropped
his eyes.
"Too long," Khelben reiterated calmly.
Orlpar stroked his face, searching for some solution. "Deudermont," he said,
looking hopefully to Khelben. "Captain Deudermont takes the Sea Sprite out this
very night. A fairer man you'll not find, but I do not know how far south he
will venture. And the price will be high."
"Ah," Khelben smiled, "but fear not, my little friend. I have wondrous
barter for you this day."
Orlpar looked at him suspiciously. "You said gold."
"Better than gold," Khelben replied. "Three days from Longsaddle my friends
have come, but their mounts have not broken even a sweat!"
"Horses?" balked Orlpar.
"Nay, not the steeds," said Khelben. "Their shoes. Magical shoes that can
carry a horse like the wind itself!"
"My business is with sailors!" Orlpar protested as vigorously as he dared.
"What use would I find with horseshoes?"
"Calm, calm, Orlpar," Khelben said softly with a wink. "Remember your
brother's embarrassment? You will find some way to turn magical horseshoes into
profit, I know."
Orlpar took a deep breath to blow away his anger. Khelben obviously had him
cornered. "Have these two at the Mermaid's Arms," he said. "I will see what I
can do." With that, he turned and, trotted off down the hill toward the south
gate.
"You handled him with ease," Drizzt remarked.
"I held every advantage," Khelben replied. "Orlpar's brother heads a noble
house in the city. At times, this proves a great benefit to Orlpar. Yet, it is
also a hindrance, for he must take care not to bring public embarrassment to his
family.
"But enough of that business," Khelben continued. "You may leave the horses
with me. Off with you, now, to the south gate. The guards there will guide you
to Dock Street, and from there you will have little trouble finding the
Mermaid's Arms."
"You are not to come with us?" asked Wulfgar, slipping down from his saddle.
"I have other business," Khelben explained. "It is better that you go alone.
You will be safe enough; Orlpar would not cross me, and Captain Deudermont is
known to me as an honest seaman. Strangers are common in Waterdeep, especially
down in the Dock Ward."
"But strangers wandering beside Khelben, the painter, might draw attention,"
Drizzt reasoned with good-humored sarcasm.
Khelben smiled but did not answer.
Drizzt dropped from his saddle. "The horses are to be returned to
Longsaddle?"
"Of course."
"Our thanks to you, Khelben," said Drizzt. "Surely you have aided our cause
greatly." Drizzt thought for a moment, eyeing his horse. "You must know that the
enchantment Malchor put on the shoes will not remain. Orlpar will not profit
from the deal he made this day."
"Justice," chuckled Khelben. "That one has turned many an unfair deal, let
me assure you. Perhaps this experience will teach him humility and the error of
his ways."
"Perhaps," said Drizzt, and with a bow, he and Wulfgar started down the
hill.
"Keep your guard, but keep your calm," Khelben called after them. "Ruffians
are not unknown on the docks, but the police are ever-present. Many a stranger
spends his first night in the city dungeons!" He watched the two of them descend
the knoll and remembered, as Malchor had remembered, those long-ago days when it
was he who followed the roads to distant adventures.
"He had the man cowed," Wulfgar remarked when he and Drizzt were out of
Khelben's earshot. "A simple painter?"
"More likely a wizard - a powerful wizard," Drizzt replied. "And our thanks
again are owed to Malchor, whose influence has eased our way. Mark my words,
'twas no simple painter that tamed the likes of Orlpar."
Wulfgar looked back to the knoll, but Khelben and the horses were nowhere to
be seen. Even with his limited understanding of the black arts, Wulfgar realized
that only magic could have moved Khelben and the three horses from the area so
quickly. He smiled and shook his head, and marveled again at the eccentric
characters the wide world kept showing him.
* * *
Following the directions given to them by the guards at the south gate,
Drizzt and Wulfgar were soon strolling down Dock Street, a long lane that ran
the length of Waterdeep Harbor on the south side of the city. Fish smells and
salty air filled their nostrils, gulls complained overhead, and sailors and
mercenaries from every stretch of the Realms wandered about, some busy at work,
but most ashore for their last rest before the long journey to points south.
Dock Street was well outfitted for such merrymaking; every corner held a
tavern. But unlike the city of Luskan's dockside, which had been given over to
the rabble by the lords of the city long ago, Dock Street in Waterdeep was not
an evil place. Waterdeep was a city of laws, and members of the Watch,
Waterdeep's famed city guard, seemed always in sight.
Hardy adventurers abounded here, battle-hardened warriors that carried their
weapons with cool familiarity. Still, Drizzt and Wulfgar, found many eyes
focused upon them, with almost every head turning and watching as they passed.
Drizzt felt for his mask, at first worrying that it had somehow slipped off and
revealed his heritage to the amazed onlookers. A quick inspection dispelled his
fears, for his hands still showed the golden luster of a surface elf.
And Drizzt nearly laughed aloud when he turned to ask Wulfgar for
confirmation that the mask still disguised his facial features, for it was then
the dark elf realized that he was not the object of the gawks. He had been so
close to the young barbarian for the last few years that he was used to
Wulfgar's physical stature. Nearly seven feet tall, with corded muscles that
thickened every year, Wulfgar strode down Dock Street with the easy air of
sincere confidence, Aegis-fang bouncing casually on one shoulder. Even among the
greatest warriors in the Realms, this young man would standout.
"For once, it seems that I am not the target of the stares," said Drizzt.
"Take off the mask, drow," Wulfgar replied, his face reddening with a rush
of blood. "And take their eyes from me!"
"I would, but for Regis," Drizzt answered with a wink.
The Mermaid's Arms was no different that any other of the multitude of
taverns that laced this section of Waterdeep. Shouts and cheers drifted out of
the place, on air heavily scented with cheap ale and wine. A group of rowdies,
pushing and shoving each other and throwing curses to the men they called
friends, had gathered in front of the door...
Drizzt looked at Wulfgar with concern. The only other time the young man had
been in such a place - at the Cutlass in Luskan - Wulfgar had torn apart the
tavern, and most of its patrons, in a brawl. Clinging to ideals of honor and
courage, Wulfgar was out of place in the unprincipled world of city taverns.
Orlpar came out of the Mermaid's Arms then and sifted adeptly through the
rowdy crowd. "Deudermont is at the bar," he whispered out of the corner of his
mouth. He passed Drizzt and Wulfgar and appeared to take no notice of them.
"Tall; blue jacket and yellow beard," added Orlpar.
Wulfgar started to respond, but Drizzt kept him moving forward,
understanding Orlpar's preference for secrecy.
The crowd parted as Drizzt and Wulfgar strode through, all their stares
squarely on Wulfgar. "Bungo'll have 'im," one of them whispered when the two
companions had moved into the bar.
"Be worth the watchin', though," chuckled another.
The drow's keen ears caught the conversation, and he looked again at his
huge friend, noting how Wulfgar's size always seemed to single the barbarian out
for such trouble.
The inside of the Mermaid's Arms offered no surprises. The air hung thick
