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Pinochet and his men. In exchange for his freedom, the pirate captain will swear
off vengeance. None of Pinochet's associates shall ever bother the Sea Sprite
again, and that group includes most of the pirates sailing Asavir's Channel!"
"And ye're to trust that dog's word?" Bruenor balked.
"They are honorable enough," replied Deudermont, "in their own way. The
codes have been drawn and are held to by the pirates; to break them would be to
invite open warfare with the southern kingdoms."
Bruenor spat into the water again. It was the same in every city and kingdom
and even on the open water: organizations of thieves tolerated within limits of
behavior. Bruenor was of a different mind. Back in Mithril Hall, his clan had
custom-built a closet with shelving especially designed to hold severed hands
that had been caught in pockets where they didn't belong.
"It is settled, then," Drizzt remarked, seeing it time to change the
subject. "Our journey by sea is at an end." Deudermont, expecting the
announcement, tossed him the pouch of gold. "A wise choice," the captain said.
"You will make Calimport a full week and more more before the Sea Sprite finds
her docks. But come to us when you have completed your business. We shall put
back for Waterdeep before the last of the winter's snows have melted in the
North. By all of my reckoning, you have earned your passage."
"We're for leaving long afore that," replied Bruenor, "but thanks for yer
offer!"
Wulfgar stepped forward and clasped the captain's wrist. "It was good to
serve and fight beside you," he said. "I look forward to the day when next we
will meet."
"As do we all," Drizzt added. He held the pouch high. "And this shall be
repaid."
Deudermont waved the notion away and mumbled, "A pittance." Knowing the
friends' desire for haste, he motioned for two of his crewmen to drop a rowboat.
"Farewell!" he called as the friends pulled away from the Sea Sprite. "Look
for me in Calimport!"
* * *
Of all the places the companions had visited, of all the lands they had
walked through and fought through, none had seemed as foreign to them as Memnon
in the kingdom of Calimshan. Even Drizzt, who had come from the strange world of
the drow elves, stared in amazement as he made his way through the city's open
lanes and marketplaces. Strange music, shrill and mournful - as often resembling
wails of pain as harmony - surrounded them and carried them on.
People flocked everywhere. Most wore sand-colored robes, but others were
brightly dressed, and all had some sort of head covering: a turban or a veiled
hat. The friends could not guess at the population of the city, which seemed to
go on forever, and doubted that anyone had ever bothered to count. But Drizzt
and his companions could envision that if all the people of the cities along the
northern stretches of the Sword Coast, Waterdeep included, gathered in one vast
refugee camp, it would resemble Memnon.
A strange combination of odors wafted through Memnon's hot air: that of a
sewer that ran through a perfume market, mixed with the pungent sweat and
malodorous breath of the ever-pressing crowd. Shacks were thrown up randomly, it
seemed, giving Memnon no apparent design or structure. Streets were any way that
was not blocked by homes, though the four friends had all come to the conclusion
that the streets themselves served as homes for many people.
At the center of all the bustle were the merchants. They lined every lane,
selling weapons, foodstuffs, exotic pipe weeds - even slaves shamelessly
displaying their goods in whatever manner would attract a crowd. On one corner,
potential buyers test-fired a large crossbow by shooting down a boxed-in range,
complete with live slave targets. On another, a woman showing more skin than
clothing - and that being no more than translucent veils - twisted and writhed
in a synchronous dance with a gigantic snake, wrapping herself within the huge
reptilian coils and then slipping teasingly back out again.
Wide-eyed and with his mouth hanging open, Wulfgar stopped, mesmerized by
the strange and seductive dance, drawing a slap across the back of his head from
Catti-brie and amused chuckles from his other two companions.
"Never have I so longed for home," the huge barbarian sighed, truly
overwhelmed.
"It is another adventure, nothing more," Drizzt reminded him. "Nowhere might
you learn more than in a land unlike your own."
"True enough," said Catti-brie. "But by me eyes, these folk be making
decadence into society."
"They live by different rules," Drizzt replied. "They would, perhaps, be
equally offended by the ways of the North."
The others had no response to that, and Bruenor, never surprised but always
amazed by eccentric human ways, just wagged his red beard.
Outfitted for adventure, the friends were far from a novelty in the trading
city. But, being foreigners, they attracted a crowd, mostly naked, black-tanned
children begging for tokens and coins. The merchants eyed the adventurers, too -
foreigners usually brought in wealth - and one particularly lascivious set of
eyes settled onto them firmly.
"Well, well?" the weaseling merchant asked his hunchbacked companion.
"Magic, magic everywhere, my master," the broken little goblin lisped
hungrily, absorbing the sensations his magical wand imparted to him. He replaced
the wand on his belt. "Strongest on the weapons elf's swords, both, dwarf's axe,
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