“You should wait till we hit port.” Captain Baram’s voice was gentler than I’d ever heard it, full of something like pity. Somehow, that made me angry.
“Can’t wait. Can’t stay here with pirates,” I spat.
We stood on the deck of the pirate ship mere moments after I had tried—and failed—to wake Perrault. I knew right away that we couldn’t stay aboard and wait out the storm. Perrault didn’t have that kind of time.
“Plenty of good healers in Waterdeep,” Baram continued. “They’ll fix him up right. You won’t make it to Silverymoon.”
I hefted Haze’s saddle onto her back. “Best healers in Faerûn are in Silverymoon. Perrault said so.”
Baram gave Haze a long look. “You sure she’ll make it to shore?”
“She wouldn’t let Perrault down. No chance, not ever.” I finished with the saddle buckles and moved to Perrault, who lay on a cot the crew had dragged onto the deck. “Help me, would you?” I said, and a pair of crewmen obliged, helping me hoist him onto the saddle. His skin was hot and feverish, and his eyes flickered but never fully opened. He seemed halfway between sleep and waking, halfway between life and death.
I began to tie Perrault into the saddle.
“You’ll be riding straight into a thunderstorm,” the captain said. “Storm this far north, this time of year, gonna be a rough one, I’ll tell you that much.”
“We’ll make it.” I took Perrault’s cloak from his back and fastened it around my neck. It was too long and dragged on the ground, but I didn’t care. I reached into his boot sheath and withdrew his magical stiletto, sliding it into one of my belt loops. I slipped the straps of our haversack over my shoulders. Though it contained hundreds of books, it felt light as a feather.
“I have no doubt you’ll make it,” Baram said. “But you must make haste, or he will not.”
I nodded, and swung up into the saddle. “I thank you for your hospitality, Captain Baram,” I said, holding out my hand.
He took it in his strong grasp, and gave a firm shake. “If ever you find yourself in Luskan, do come find me,” he said.
I gave him one last nod, took up Haze’s reins, and headed overboard.
I had no plan to travel to Silverymoon, nor to trust Perrault’s fate to the healers in Waterdeep, but I wasn’t about to confide my real destination to a pirate.
I knew the one who could save Perrault, and she lived in Baldur’s Gate.
Baldur’s Gate, where I had been only a few days ago.
Baldur’s Gate, the city where Perrault had been wounded trying to protect me.
We ran southeast, covering a great distance in a short time. After a few hours, the coast was in sight—and not a moment too soon, as I could feel Haze growing weary beneath me. At first, it had felt as if she were running on a cloud, but her hooves soon began to splash the water with every stride. We would be ashore soon, but along the coastline loomed a massive black cloud. Lightning rent the air, and waves of thunder rolled out to greet us like some ominous warning.
Turn back, said the thunderstorm. It is futile. You are doomed. Turn back.
Soon we were riding through a downpour, bolts of lightning crackling overhead, thunder following close behind. The storm increased in fury as bolt after bolt blazed out, the thunder chasing it like an evil laugh, the world laughing in my face, taunting me.
But we made the shore.
Haze stumbled and nearly fell as her hooves finally touched solid ground. Tired and soaked, I tumbled head-over-heels off her back, landing hard. Perrault remained firmly tied in place. His breathing was exceedingly shallow, and the bandage over his wound was saturated.
I climbed to my feet and walked to Haze, laying my face against hers. Those intelligent gray eyes looked at me, exhausted.
“I know you’re tired,” I said to her, “but if we stop now, he dies.”
I could see in the way she reacted that she understood me. She pulled herself up, forced her back straight, and stood with pride, power, and grace.
“That’s my good girl,” I whispered, pulling myself back into the saddle. Haze was off and running before I even settled into my seat.
A normal horse moving at a normal pace can cover about fifty miles in a day if the weather is good and her rider lets her run. The journey from Waterdeep to Baldur’s Gate is about five hundred miles, so the journey should have taken about ten days.
We made it in two.
We thundered through the city gates at a full gallop, Haze still managing a run despite having not slept, not even stopped her run, in forty hours and five hundred miles. The city guards shouted in protest and tried to stop us, but they couldn’t keep up. Soon we were pounding through the city streets. Haze knew our destination without my guidance, and finally we skidded to a halt in front of the Empty Flagon.
Alviss, who had seen us coming, met us at the door.
I swung off the horse and handed her reins to the dwarf. “Take care of them,” I said, turning to leave.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I must find Jaide. Where is she?”
“She’s … she’s in her temple,” he stammered. “But you shouldn’t be here. The demon is still looking for you!”
“I don’t care. I need to find Jaide, to save Perrault,” I said. “Which temple is hers?”
“The Lady’s Hall,” he said. “But wait! Don’t go just yet.” Alviss ran through the Empty Flagon’s door and returned a few seconds later, sweat beading on his brow. He motioned for me to hold out my hand, and into my palm he pressed a slip of parchment. “You’ll need this. Read the word aloud and she’ll know it’s you. It’s the only way to enter her temple.”
I was running toward the temple district before he could say another word. I heard him yelling after me, a stream of words lost to the wind, but his last two broke through clearly enough: “Be careful!”