“You need my help with a story?” Belag chuckled.
“It is a story that will interest you, I think,” the Lyric replied, arching her eyebrows.
“Thank you, spirit,” Belag replied, turning back to the carvings on the wall. “I have no need of stories.”
“But this one involves you,” the Lyric replied. “It is the story of RuuKag, the manticore who lost his tale.”
“Lost his tail?” Belag snorted. “He should look behind him!”
“Not his ‘tail,’ Belag, his tale,” the Lyric said with surprising impatience. “His story, his personal legend. Every creature is the hero of his own story but RuuKag lost his. Now I fear he has gone to find it.”
Belag hesitated. “Find it?”
“Yes,” the Lyric replied, shaking her head. “He left yesterday late in the evening. I followed him-invisible as I was-for a long as I could. He crossed over the Cragsway Pass toward the. . where are you going? The story isn’t finished yet!”
Belag was already throwing open the doors of the Elders’ Lodge, his pace picking up quickly toward the bay.
“Aye, that’s a fine ship, lass,” Jugar said through his wide-toothed grin. “I’ve never seen the like!”
“Then you’ve never encountered the corsairs of Thetis,” Urulani replied, swinging around a backstay to land on the planked deck beneath her feet. “She’s just three hands under thirty cubits in length from stern to stern, and we can pull her at a respectable speed with a crew of twenty-given a good sea. She’s the smallest of our corsairs, but I rather like her.”
“It is a wonder!” The dwarf said, shaking his head as he gazed at the ship where it was moored to the dock. The Cydron, as Urulani called it, was a beautiful craft, its hull tapered fore and aft with such elegant lines that it looked as though it could fly across the waves with barely a feather’s touch. She was not a terribly large ship-completely unlike the large and rather ponderous galleons that the Rhonas employed against their rebellious cousins on the southern borders of the Empire-but was built for grace and speed. Three slightly angled masts gave a powerful rake to her lines. Her main deck was a single level though a raised walkway just above the level of the oarsmen’s heads connected a small enclosed forecastle and a more elevated afterdeck that held the long, ornately carved arm of the rudder. He was a dwarf and his expertise was largely relegated to the realm of stone, but he certainly could appreciate the art involved in such a fine piece of woodcraft. His eyes twinkled as he took in the lines of the ship. “How fast will it sail?”
“She’ll cross the Bay in less than three days,” Urulani said. “We’ve raided coastal towns in Nordesia when necessary and been back in less than a week’s time.”
“A wonder. . a marvel of our age,” Jugar nodded with appreciation. “Perhaps I will have the privilege of sailing aboard her one day. You know, Drakis is such a strange human, even seen through the eyes of his own kind, I might venture to say, that I wouldn’t wonder if he would request passage to the north. .”
Urulani was no longer paying attention to the dwarf. “It looks as though someone else of your group has taken an interest in boats.”
Jugar turned and was astonished-if not a little frightened-to see Belag bounding toward them, crouched over and rushing toward them on all fours. The great manticore slid to a halt on the planks of the dock, rising back on his hind legs as he spoke.
“Urulani. . Jugar. . have either of you seen RuuKag today?”
Jugar looked up. “No, but I would not consider that an unusual occurrence. He is, as you well know, a most reclusive individual prone to rather moody withdrawals from our company. .”
“Urulani,” the manticore said, turning hastily to the dark-skinned woman. “Have you seen RuuKag. . the other being like me?”
Urulani smiled slightly through her puzzlement. “I do know what a manticore is, friend Belag. . but I have not seen RuuKag since last night when. .”
Urulani stopped speaking.
“What is it?” Belag asked.