Dark Goddess

"Your forgiveness. Mistress," Sir Tanar said as he tilted his head slightly in a how.

  "You know how I dislike waiting," the Voice of the Night continued.

  "I was not in my room, Mistress. I was taking some refreshments-" he began.

  "You will dine in your room from now on," she interrupted. "I will not be kept waiting."

  "Yes, Mistress," he acquiesced reluctantly.

  "I am glad to see that you survived my messenger. I shall soon have need of you, Tanar," she continued.

  "As you wish," he said.

  "You are a Knight of Neraka, Tanar, yet you serve me. What is your loyalty to the Dark Queen?"

  "The goddess Takhisis is no longer with this world, nor with us," the Thorn Knight answered. "I am loyal to myself."

  The darkness in the platter seemed to grow even darker, if that were possible. Feeling the anger welling from it, Tanar added, "As well as those I have sworn to obey."

  "Very good, Tanar," the Voice of the Night said. "You may yet please me in some small way. Still, you must obey the commands of your superiors. That is why I have contacted you. You will be receiving orders from your usual contacts in several days. I will contact you at that time. Meanwhile, I remind you not to abuse the powers of this magical communication device."

  "Yes, Mistress," Tanar said, bowing as the darkness in the plate faded. In moments, he found himself looking once more at his own distorted image dimly reflected in the plate's shining surface.

"We should have stopped in Palanthas," Doctor Bothy said. He stood beside Commodore Brigg in the conning tower in the last light of the day.

  Fore and aft, gnomes were busy stowing the sheets and dropping anchor. Indestructible lay in a calm harbor several hundred yards from shore. Although at first glance it seemed an excellent safe haven for ships, this was but a disguise concealing a lurking danger. Little more than a dozen yards from the bow of the ship, jagged reefs and rocky shoals lay just beneath the placid surface. All around them stood the naked masts of ships that had sailed heedlessly into this place and found their doom. Perhaps they had come here seeking shelter from storms, or concealment from pirates, or perhaps they came in search of fresh water and game. From where the commodore and Dr. Bothy stood, they could count four wrecks, while dark shadows in the depths spoke of numerous others.

  This particular stretch of the coastline was one of Ansalon's most desolate. On maps, it was called the Northern Wastes, a vast desert region lying within the domain of the blue dragon Khellendros, home to little more than rock vipers, lizards, and scorpions. Nearer the sea, the land was broken into hills, and here where the warm moist winds blew could be found a few green plants, creosote bushes, palms, and thorny willows clinging to the stubborn soil wherever a trickle of water appeared. Only wild goats, rabbits, and the leopards and desert eagles that stalked them managed to wring a meager existence from this place.

  Into the harbor flowed a small river. Down from the surrounding hills it tumbled, white and frothing over the stones. Likely, it had been the sight of cool, fresh water that had drawn the ships into the bay, only to wreck themselves upon the shoals.

  Doctor Bothy gazed out over the mirror-flat water at this stream and sighed with longing before continuing. "We are almost out of fresh water," he said.

  "I am aware of that," the commodore answered. His attention was focused on the sky and the setting sun. He was waiting for darkness so he could take a star reading and enter their location in the ship's log before retiring for the evening. It had been another hard day of sailing, tacking against the prevailing winds in an effort to reach Thoradin Bay and the port city of Kalaman.

  This leg of the journey had taken longer than the commodore had expected, for the winds were blowing more strongly out of the north than was usual for this time of the year. They had made good time for the most part, sailing without incident around the tip of Northern Ergoth, then crossing Zeboim's Deep to the peninsula known as Tanith. Much to everyone's dismay, especially Dr. Bothy, they did not then turn south and visit the fabulous port of Palanthas, City of Seven Circles, gleaming jewel of the old Solamnic Empire. Dr. Bothy had long looked forward to sampling the city's gastronomic offerings, while most everyone else on board simply wanted to get off the ship and visit the greatest city in all Ansalon, especially Razmous, who had passed through and been expelled from Palanthas more times than he could count. Conundrum had never been out of Mount Nevermind in his entire life, so this entire voyage was a wonder and a mystery to him. The world was far larger than he had ever imagined.

  Instead, they had sailed due east, crossing the mouth of the Bay of Branchala in the early hours of the morning, while most of the crew crowded the deck, hoping for a glimpse of the city. But they passed the rocky headland an hour after sunrise without spotting even a twinkle of a lamp or glimmer of sunlight off a golden dome or marble tower. Palanthas slipped away, hidden behind the Vingaard Mountains marching up from the south.

  Their course took them eastward until they reached the coast of the Northern Wastes. There, they had turned north, and their troubles and delays began. The wind was blowing hard out of the north, raising the seas in anger, and the ship climbed the swells and tacked back and forth across the face of the wind. Day after day they had fought their way along the coast, finding rest at night in bays and inlets and natural harbors, rather than dropping anchor in uncertain and wind-swept waters. Meanwhile, their supplies had dwindled.

Of course, fresh water isn't too great a concern," Dr. Bothy commented. "After all, I still have plenty of my fresh water tablets." He reached into a pocket of his tight blue jumpsuit and removed a small brown bottle, inside which rattled several dozen tiny pills. "When I made these, I was trying to invent a pill to remove fresh water from seawater, leaving behind only the salt. With such pills, I could have cornered the salt market. However, they worked in the opposite manner, removing the salt instead, and leaving the water fresh and drinkable. We need only draw a barrel of sea water and drop one of these pills into it, and hey!" He rattled the bottle for emphasis. "Presto! Fresh water."

  "Most ingenious," the commodore said with a bored little yawn. He'd been reminded of the doctor's invaluable fresh water pills at least a dozen times since leaving Sancrist. Bothy had an almost kenderish tendency to repeat his favorite stories, especially when he was the hero of said stories, but Commodore Brigg tolerated him because he was a doctor with remarkable deductive abilities and scientific acumen. Even if his Peerupitscope had proved too big to peer up much of anything.

  "No, it isn't fresh water that concerns me," Doctor Bothy continued as he tucked away the bottle of pills. He leaned closer to the commodore and whispered. "It's the crew. Morale is flagging."

  Commodore Brigg snorted in derision and angrily stroked his white whiskers. "Ever have leaders been plagued by the bellyaching of those they lead!" he growled. "They'll cheer up once this north wind shifts."

  The doctor shook his head. "If we had stopped in Palanthas, this wouldn't have happened, no matter how the wind blows. They've been sailing for weeks without a break in the monotony of their sailorly duties. Only this morning, I had to treat the cook for severe burns after he tried out a new stove that he has been designing-a strange device, but it has great possibilities once he discovers a way to contain the explosion. He calls it a flashcooker. But when he lit it, it blew the door off and flashcooked the cook rather than the flatbread he was trying to bake."

  "So that's what that noise was," the commodore said. He had not paid much attention to the explosion, because explosions aboard gnomish vessels are fairly common and are generally ignored unless followed by something else, like a massive inrush of water.

  "Yes. You see, Commodore, I fear…" He leaned closer still, so that his full, bearded lips tickled the commodore's ear. "I fear even the kender is becoming bored!"

  Suddenly, the hatch at their feet flew open, and Professor Hap-Troggensbottle climbed out. He kicked the hatch shut with a clang and turned on the commodore. "Sir, you really must do something about Razmous!" he hissed so that the gnomes working above deck to prepare the ship for night watches wouldn't hear.