The Second Generation

“Why, laddie,” said the dwarf, looking around at Palin with an injured air, “it was for your own safety! I had only your welfare at heart! You were so enthusiastic when you saw we were carrying you aboard this fine vessel, that we had to restrain your enthusiasm—”

“Enthusiasm!” Tanin snorted. “We were out cold!”

“Well, no, actually, you weren’t,” Dougan admitted. “Oh, he was.” The dwarf jerked his head back at Palin. “Sleeping like he was in his mother’s arms. But you two, as I saw the moment I clapped eyes on you, lads, are grand fighters. Perhaps you were wondering how you got that bit of a clout on your head—”

Tanin said nothing, simply glared at the dwarf. Sitting up, the young man gingerly put his hand to his forehead, where there was a lump the size of an egg.

“Enthusiasm,” said the dwarf solemnly, going over to cut Sturm loose.

“That's one reason I chose you for my quest.”

“The only quest I’d consider going on with you is to see you in the Abyss!” Tanin retorted stubbornly.

Lying back, Palin sighed. “My dear brother,” he said wearily, “has it occurred to you that we have little choice in the matter? We’re on a ship, miles away from land”—he glanced at Dougan, who nodded assent—“and completely at the mercy of this dwarf and his crew of cutthroats. Do you think he would release us from our bonds if we had the slightest chance of escaping?”

“Intelligent lad,” said the dwarf approvingly, cutting Palin’s ropes as Sturm sat up stiffly, rubbing his wrists. “But then, he’s a mage. And they’re all intelligent, at least so’s I’ve heard. So intelligent,” continued Dougan cunningly, “that I’m certain he’ll think twice about casting any spells that might come to mind. A sleep spell, for example, might be very effective and give my cutthroat crew a rest, but can you three sail the ship? Besides,” he continued, seeing Palin’s grim expression, “as I said before—it’s a matter of honor. You lost the bet, fair and square. I kept my part, I put you to bed. Now you must keep yours.” Dougan’s grin made the ends of his moustache curl upward. He stroked his beard in satisfaction. “You must pay the tab.”

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to pay!” Tanin snarled. “I’ll yank your black beard out by its roots!”

Tanin’s voice literally shook with anger, and Palin cringed, watching helplessly as his hot-tempered brother made a lunge for the grinning dwarf—and fell flat on his face in the muck and filth.

“There, there, lad,” said Dougan, helping Tanin stagger to his feet.

“Get your sea legs first, then you can yank out my beard—if you refuse to honor your bet. But from what I’ve heard of Caramon Majere, I’d be disappointed indeed to see his sons turn out to be welshers.”

“We’re no welshers!” said Tanin sulkily, leaning weakly against the berth and clinging to it with both hands as the ship rocked out from underneath him. “Though some might say the bet was rigged, we’ll pay it just the same! What do you want of us?”

“To accompany me on my quest,” said the dwarf. “Where we’re bound is perilous in the extreme! I need two strong, skilled fighters, and a wizard always comes in handy.”

“What about your crew?” Sturm asked. Carefully, he edged himself off his berth and dropped to the deck just as the ship listed, sending him crashing backward into the hull.

Dougan’s grinning face went abruptly sober. He glanced up above, where the strange roaring sound could be heard again, mingled this time, Palin noted, with shrieks and cries. “Ah, my ... um ... crew,” said the dwarf, shaking his head sadly. “They’re ... well, best you come see for yourselves, lads.”

Turning on the heel of his fancy shoes, Dougan made for the rope ladder, stumbling awkwardly as the ship canted off in the other direction. “Ouch! That reminds me,” he said, cursing and rubbing his leg where he had come up against one of the roving sea chests. “We stowed your equipment in here."

He thumped on the lid. “Swords, shield, armor, and such like. You’ll be needing them where we’re headed!” he added cheerfully.

Catching hold of the swinging rope ladder, the dwarf scrambled up it and pulled himself through the hatch. “Don’t be long!” they heard him shout.

“Well, what do we do now?” Sturm asked, standing up cautiously, only to fall forward with the motion of the ship. The young man’s face was decidedly green; beads of sweat stood on his forehead.

“We get our swords,” Tanin said grimly, stumbling toward the sea chests.

“And we get out of this foul place,” said Palin. He covered his nose and mouth with the hem of his sleeve. “We need fresh air, and I for one want to see what's going on up there.”

“Wanna bet?” Tanin mocked.

Smiling ruefully, Palin managed to make his way to the Staff of Magius, which was still standing up against the hull. Whether it was any magical property of the staff, or whether just holding it gave him confidence, the young mage felt better the moment his hand wrapped around the smooth wood.