It took some effort for Drizzt to spot the panther. The island of Mintarn, four hundred miles southwest of Waterdeep, was cloaked in thick trees, and Guenhwyvar was perfectly blended, reclining on a branch twenty feet from the ground, camouflaged so well that a deer might walk right under the cat, never realizing its doom.

Guenhwyvar was not hunting deer this day. The Sea Sprite had put into port barely two hours before, flying no flag, no colors at all, and with her name covered by tarps. The three-masted schooner was likely recognizable, though, for she was unique along the Sword Coast, and many of the rogues now visiting the free port had run from her in the past. So it was that Drizzt, Catti-brie and Deudermont had been approached soon after they had entered the Freemantle, a tavern just off the docks.

Now they waited for their contact, half expecting an ambush in the thick woods barely a hundred yards from the town common.

There and then, Deudermont could truly appreciate the value of such loyal and powerful friends. With Drizzt and Catti-brie,

and ever-alert Guenhwyvar keeping watch, the captain feared no ambush, not if all the pirates of the Sword Coast rose against him! Without these three around him, Deudermont would have been terribly vulnerable. Even Robillard, undeniably powerful but equally unpredictable, could not have afforded the captain such comfort. More than their skill, Deudermont trusted in these three for their loyalty. They'd not desert him, not one of them, no matter the risk.

Guenhwyvar's ears flattened and the panther gave a low growl, a sound the other three felt in their bellies rather than heard with their ears.

Drizzt went into a low crouch and scanned the region, he pointed east and north, then slipped into the shadows, silent as death. Catti-brie moved behind a tree and fixed an arrow to Taul-maril's bowstring. She tried to follow Drizzt's movements, using them to discern the approach of their contact, but the drow was gone. It seemed he had simply vanished soon after he had entered the thick growth. As it turned out, she didn't need Drizzt's movements as a guide, for their visitors were not so adept at traveling silently and invisibly through the woods.

Deudermont stood calmly in the open, his hands folded behind his back. Every now and then he brought out one hand to adjust the pipe that hung in his mouth. He, too, sensed the proximity of other men, several men, taking up positions in the woods about him.

"You do not belong here," came an expected voice from the shadows. The speaker, a tiny man with small dark eyes and huge ears poking out from under his bowl-cut brown hair, had no idea that he had been spotted twenty steps from his current position, which was still more than a dozen yards from the captain. He did not know that his seven companions, too, were known to Drizzt and Catti-brie, and especially to Guenhwyvar. The panther was a moving shadow among the branches, positioning herself close enough to get to four of the men with a single leap.

Off to the speaker's left side, one of his companions spotted Catti-brie and brought his own bow up, putting an arrow in line with the woman. He heard a rustle, but before he could react, a dark form rushed past him. He gave a short yelp, fell back, and saw the forest green of a cape swish past. Then the form was gone, leaving the man stunned and unharmed.

"Brer'Cannon?" the man addressing Deudermont asked, and there came rustling from several positions.

"I'm okay," a shaken Brer'Cannon replied quickly, straightening himself and trying to understand what that pass had been about. He figured it out when he at last looked back to his bow and saw that the bowstring had been cut. "Damnation," Brer'Cannon muttered, scanning the brush frantically.

"I am not accustomed to speaking with shadows," Deudermont called out clearly, his voice unshaken.

"You are not alone," the speaker replied.

"Nor are you," Deudermont said without hesitation. "So do come out and let us be done with this business-whatever business you might have with me."

More rustling came from the shadows, and more than one whispering voice told the speaker, a man named Dunkin, to go talk to the Sea Sprite's captain.

At last, Dunkin mustered the courage to stand up and come forward, taking one step and looking all around, then another step and looking all around. He walked right under Guenhwyvar and didn't know it, which brought a smile to Deudermont's lips. He walked within three feet of Drizzt and didn't know it, but he did spot Catti-brie, for the woman was making no real effort to conceal herself behind the tree just to the side of the small clearing where Deudermont stood.

Dunkin fought hard to regain his composure and his dignity. He walked to within a few paces of the tall captain and straightened himself. "You do not belong here," he said in a voice that cracked only once.

"It was my understanding that Mintarn was a free port," Deudermont replied. "Free for scalawags only?"

Dunkin pointed a finger and started to reply, but the words apparently did not suffice and he stopped after uttering only a meaningless grunt.

"I have never known of any restrictions placed on vessels desiring to dock," Deudermont went on. "Surely my ship is not the only one in Mintarn Harbor flying no colors and with her name covered." The last statement was true enough. Fully two-thirds of all the vessels that put into the free port did so without any open identification.

"You are Deudermont and your ship is the Sea Sprite, out of

Waterdeep," Dunkin said, his tone accusing. He tugged at his ear as he spoke, a nervous tick, the captain reasoned.

Deudermont shrugged and nodded.

"A law ship," Dunkin went on, finding some courage at last. He let go of his ear. "Pirate hunter, and here, no doubt, to-"

"Do not presume to know my intentions," Deudermont interrupted sharply.

"The Sea Sprite's intentions are always known," Dunkin retorted, his voice equally firm. "She's a pirate hunter, and yes, there are indeed pirates docked in Mintarn, including one you chased this very week."

Deudermont's expression grew stern. He understood that this man was an official of Mintarn, an emissary from his tyrancy, Tarnheel Embuirhan, himself. Tarnheel had made his intentions of keeping Mintarn in line with its reputation as a free port quite clear to all the lords along the Sword Coast. Mintarn was not a place to settle vendettas, or to chase fugitives.

"If we came in search of pirates," Deudermont said bluntly, "the Sea Sprite would have come in under the flag of Waterdeep, openly and without fear."

"Then you admit your identity," accused Dunkin.

"We hid it only to prevent trouble for your port," Deudermont replied easily. "If any of the pirates now in Mintarn Harbor sought retribution, we would have had to sink them, and I am certain that your overlord would not approve of so many wrecks under the waves of his harbor. Is that not exactly why he sent you to find me in the Freemantle, and why he bade you to come out here with your bluster?"

Dunkin again seemed to not be able to find the words to reply.

"And you are?" Deudermont asked, prompting the nervous man.

Dunkin straightened once more, as if remembering his station. "Dunkin Tallmast," he said clearly, "emissary of His Tyrancy, Lord Tarnheel Embuirhan of the free port of Mintarn."

Deudermont considered the obviously phoney name. This one had probably crawled onto Mintarn's docks years ago, running from another scalawag, or from the law, and over time had found his way into Tarnheel's island guard. Dunkin was not a great choice, as an emissary, Deudermont realized. Not practiced in diplomacy and not long on courage. But the captain refused to underestimate Tarnheel, reputably a proficient warrior who had kept the relative peace on Mintarn for many years. Dunkin was no imposing diplomat, but Tarnheel had probably decided that he would be the one to meet with Deudermont for a reason, possibly to make the Sea Sprite's captain understand that he and his ship were not considered very important to his tyrancy.

Diplomacy was a curious game.

"The Sea Sprite has not sailed in to engage with any pirates," Deudermont assured the man. "Nor in search of any man who might be in hiding on Mintarn. We have come to take on provisions, and in search of information."

"About a pirate," Dunkin reasoned, seeming not pleased.

"About an island," Deudermont replied.

"A pirate island?" Dunkin retorted, and again his tone made the question seem more of an accusation.

Deudermont pulled the pipe from his mouth and stared hard at Dunkin, answering the question without uttering a word.

"It is said that nowhere in all the Realms can a greater concentration of the most seasoned sea dogs be found than on Mintarn," Deudermont began at length. "I seek an island that is as much legend as truth, an island known to many through tales, but to only a few by experience."

Dunkin didn't reply, and didn't seem to have any idea of what Deudermont might be talking about.

"I will make you a deal," the captain offered.

"What have you to bargain with?" Dunkin replied quickly.

"I, and all of my crew, will remain on the Sea Sprite, quietly, and far out in the harbor. Thus will the peace of Mintarn remain secure. We have no intention of hunting any on your island, even known outlaws, but many might seek us out, foolishly thinking the Sea Sprite vulnerable while in port."

Dunkin couldn't help but nod. Back in the Freemantle, he had already heard whispers hinting that several of the ships now in port were not pleased to see the Sea Sprite, and might join together against her.

"We will remain out of the immediate dock area," Deudermont said again, "and you, Dunkin Tallmast, will find for me the information I desire." Before Dunkin could respond, Deudermont tossed him a pouch full of gold coins. "Caerwich," the captain explained. "I want a map to Caerwich."

"Caerwich?" Dunkin echoed skeptically.

"West and south, by tales I've heard," Deudermont replied.

Dunkin gave a sour look and moved to toss the coins back, but Deudermont raised a hand to stop him. "The Lords of Waterdeep will not be pleased to learn that Mintarn's hospitality was not extended to one of their ships," the captain was quick to point out. "If you are not a free port for the legal ships of Waterdeep, then you proclaim yourself an open haven only to outlaws. Your Lord Tarnheel will not be pleased at the results of such a proclamation."

It was as close to a threat as Deudermont wanted to get, and he was much relieved when Dunkin clutched the bag of coins tightly once more.

"I will speak with his tyrancy," the short man asserted. "If he agrees ..." Dunkin let it go at that, waving his hand.

Deudermont popped the pipe back into his mouth and nodded to Catti-brie, who came out of hiding, her bow relaxed, all arrows replaced in her quiver. She never blinked as she walked past Dunkin, and he matched her stare.

His resolve melted a moment later, though, when Drizzt slipped out of the brush to the side. And if the sight of a drow elf wasn't enough to fully unnerve the man, surely the sudden presence of a six-hundred pound black panther dropping to the ground barely five feet to Dunkin's side, was.

* * * * *

Dunkin rowed out to the Sea Sprite the very next day. Despite the fact that Deudermont welcomed him warmly, he came aboard tentatively, as though he was in awe of this vessel that was so fast becoming a legend along the Sword Coast.

They greeted Dunkin on the open deck, in full view of the crew. Guenhwyvar was at rest in her astral home, but Robillard and Harkle joined the others this time, standing together, and Drizzt thought that a good thing. Perhaps Robillard, an adept wizard, could keep Harkle's powers under control, the drow reasoned. And perhaps Harkle's perpetual smile would rub off on the grumpy Robillard!

"You have my information?" Deudermont asked, coming right to the point. The Sea Sprite had sat calm and undisturbed thus

far, but Deudermont held no illusions about their safety in Mintarn Harbor. The captain knew that no less than a dozen ships now in port desired their demise, and the sooner the schooner was out of Mintarn, the better.

Dunkin motioned to the door to the captain's private quarters.

"Out here," Deudermont insisted. "Give it over and be gone. I've not the time for any delays, and I need no privacy from my crew."

Dunkin looked around and nodded, having no desire to debate the point.

"The information?" Deudermont asked.

Dunkin started, as if surprised. "Ah, yes," he stuttered. "We have a map, but it's not too detailed. And we cannot be sure, of course, for the island you seek might be no more than legend, and then, of course, there would be no correct map."

His humor was not appreciated, he soon realized, and so he calmed himself and cleared his throat.

"You have my gold," Deudermont said after yet another long pause.

"His tyrancy wishes a different payment," Dunkin replied. "More than the gold."

Deudermont's eyes narrowed dangerously. He put his pipe in his mouth deliberately and took a long, long draw.

"Nothing so difficult," Dunking was quick to assure. "And my lord offers more than a simple map. You'll need a wizard or a priest to create a hold large enough to carry ample supplies."

"That would be us," Harkle put in, draping an arm over Robillard's shoulders as he spoke, then quickly withdrawing it upon seeing the grumpy wizard's threatening scowl.

"Ah, yes, but no need, no need," Dunkin blurted. "For his tyrancy has a most wonderful chest, a magical hold, it is, and he will give it to you on loan, along with the map, for the pouch of gold, which was not so much, and one other little favor."

"Speak it," demanded Deudermont, growing weary of the cryptic game.

"Him," said Dunkin, pointing to Drizzt.

Only Drizzt's quick reaction, lifting a blocking arm, kept Catti-brie from leaping forward and punching the man.

"Him?" Deudermont asked incredulously.

"Just to meet with the drow," Dunkin quickly explained, realizing that he was treading on dangerous ground here. The water was cold about Mintarn and the man had no desire for a long swim back to shore.

"A curiosity piece?" Catti-brie snapped, pushing against Drizzt's blocking arm. "I'll give ye something for yer stupid tyrant!"

"No, no," Dunkin tried to explain. He never would have gotten the words out of his mouth, would have been tossed overboard for simply making the seemingly absurd request, had not Drizzt intervened, a calming voice that revealed no offense taken.

"Explain your lord's desire," the drow said quietly.

"Your reputation is considerable, good drow," Dunkin stammered. "Many pirates limping into Mintarn speak of your exploits. Why, the main reason that the Sea Sprite has not been . . ." He stopped and glanced nervously at Deudermont.

"Has not been attacked in Mintarn Harbor," Deudermont finished for him.

"They wouldn't dare come out and face you," Dunkin dared to finish, looking back to Drizzt. "My lord, too, is a warrior of no small reputation."

"Damn," Catti-brie muttered, guessing what was to come, and Drizzt, too, could see where this speech was leading.

"Just a contest," Dunkin finished. "A private fight."

"For no better reason than to prove who is the better," Drizzt replied distastefully.

"For the map," Dunkin reminded him. "And the chest, no small reward." After a moment's thought, he added, "You will have those whether you win or lose."

Drizzt looked at Catti-brie, then to Deudermont, then to all the crew, who were making no effort anymore to disguise the fact that they were listening intently to every word.

"Let us be done with it," the drow said.

Catti-brie grabbed him by the arm, and when he turned to face her, he realized that she did not approve.

"I cannot ask you to do such a thing," Deudermont said.

Drizzt looked at him directly, and with a smile. "Perhaps my own curiosity over who is the better fighter is no less than Tarnheel's," he said, looking back to Catti-brie, who knew him and knew his motivations better than that.

"Is it any different than your own fight with Berkthgar over Aegis-fang before the dark elves came to Mithril Hall?" Drizzt asked simply.

True enough, Catti-brie had to admit. Before the drow war, Berkthgar had threatened to break the alliance with Bruenor unless the dwarf turned Aegis-fang over to him, something Bruenor would never do. Catti-brie had gone to Settlestone and had ended the debate by defeating Berkthgar in the challenge of single combat. In light of that memory, and the drow's duty now, she let go of Drizzt's arm.

"I will return presently," Drizzt promised, following Dunkin to the rail, and then into the small boat.

Deudermont, Catti-brie, and most of the other crewmen, watched them row away, and Catti-brie noticed the sour expression on the captain's face, as though Deudermont was somewhat disappointed, something the perceptive young woman understood completely.

"He's not wanting to fight," she assured the captain.

"He is driven by curiosity?" Deudermont asked.

"By loyalty," Catti-brie answered. "And nothing more. Drizzt is bound by friendship to ye and to the crew, and if a simple contest against the man will make for an easier sail, then he's up to the fight. But there's no curiosity in Drizzt. No stupid pride. He's not for caring who's the better at swordplay."

Deudermont nodded and his expression brightened. The young woman's words confirmed his belief in his friend.

The minutes turned into an hour, then into two, and the conversation on the Sea Sprite gradually shifted away from Drizzt's confrontation to their own situation. Two ships, square-riggers both, had sailed out of Mintarn. Neither had gone out into the open sea, but rather, had turned into the wind just beyond the harbor, tacking and turning so that they remained relatively still.

"Why don't they just drop their anchors?" Waillan asked a crewman who was standing near him on the poop deck, just behind the Sea Sprite's deadly ballista.

Catti-brie and Deudermont, near the center of the ship, overheard the remark and looked to each other. Both knew why.

A third ship put up her lower sails and began to drift out in the general direction of the Sea Sprite.

"I'm not liking this," Catti-brie remarked.

"We may have been set up," Deudermont replied. "Perhaps Dunkin informed our sailor friends here that the Sea Sprite would be without a certain dark elf crewman for a while."

"I'm for the nest," Catti-brie said. She slung Taulmaril over her shoulder and started up the mainmast.

Robillard and Harkle came back on deck then, apparently aware of the potentially dangerous situation. They nodded to Deudermont and moved astern, beside Waillan and his ballista crew.

Then they waited, all of them. Deudermont watched the creeping movements of the three ships carefully, and then a fourth pushed off from Mintarn's long docks. Possibly they were being encircled, the captain knew, but also he knew that the Sea Sprite could put up anchor and be out to sea in mere minutes, especially with Robillard's magic aiding the run. And all the while, between the ballista and the archers, particularly Catti-brie and that devastating bow of hers, the Sea Sprite could more than match any barrage they offered.

Deudermont's primary concern at that moment was not for his ship, but for Drizzt. What fate might befall the drow if they had to leave him behind?

That notion disappeared, but a new fear materialized when Catti-brie, spyglass in hand, yelled down that Drizzt was on his way back. Deudermont and many others followed the woman's point and could just make out the tiny rowboat in front and to starboard of the third ship drifting out of the harbor.

"Robillard!" Deudermont yelled.

The wizard nodded and peered intently to spot the craft. He began casting a spell immediately, but even as the first words left his mouth, a catapult on the third pirate ship let fly, dropping a bail of pitch into the water right beside the rowboat, nearly capsizing her.

"Up sails!" Deudermont cried. "Weigh anchor!"

Catti-brie's bow hummed, streaking arrow after arrow back toward the drifting caravel, though the ship was still more than three hundred yards away.

All the harbor seemed to come to life immediately. The two ships farther out put up full sails and began their turn to catch the wind, the third ship launched another volley at the rowboat, and the sails of the fourth ship, indeed a part of the conspiracy, unfurled.

Before Robillard's spell began its effect, a third ball of pitch hit just behind the rowboat, taking part of her stern with her. Still,

the enchantment caught the tiny craft, a directed wave of water grabbing at her and speeding her suddenly in the direction of the Sea Sprite. Drizzt put up the now-useless oars while Dunkin bailed frantically, but even though they made great progress toward the schooner, the damaged rowboat could not stay afloat long enough to get to the Sea Sprite's side.

Robillard recognized that fact and as the craft floundered, the wizard dispelled his magic, else Drizzt and Dunkin would have been drowned beneath the enchanted wave.

Deudermont's mind worked furiously, trying to measure the distance and the time before the pirates would catch them. He figured that as soon as the sails were up, he would have to turn the Sea Sprite in toward the harbor, for he would not leave Drizzt behind, no matter the risk.

His calculations quickly shifted when he saw that Drizzt, Dunkin in tow, was swimming furiously toward the ship.

Dunkin was even more surprised by this turn of events than was Deudermont. When the rowboat went under, the man's first instinct told him to get away from the drow. Drizzt's carried twin scimitars and wore a suit of chain mail. Dunkin wore no encumbering equipment and figured that the drow would cling to him and likely drown them both. To Dunkin's surprise, though, Drizzt could not only stay above the water, but could swim impossibly fast.

The chain mail was supple, cunningly forged of the finest materials and to drowlike design by Buster Bracer of Clan Battlehammer, one of the finest smithies in all the Realms. And Drizzt wore enchanted anklets, allowing him to kick his feet incredibly fast. He caught up to Dunkin and dragged the man out in the direction of the Sea Sprite almost immediately, closing nearly a quarter of the distance before the startled man even gained his wits enough about him to begin swimming on his own.

"They are coming fast!" Waillan cried happily, thinking his friend would make it.

"But they lost the chest!" Robillard observed, pointing to the floundering rowboat. Right behind the wreckage and coming faster still was the third pirate ship, her sails now full of wind.

"I will get it!" cried Harkle Harpell, wanting desperately to be of some use. The wizard snapped his fingers and began an enchantment, as did Robillard, realizing that they had to somehow slow the pursuing caravel if Drizzt was to have any chance of making it to the Sea Sprite.

Robillard stopped his casting almost immediately, though, and looked to Harkle curiously.

Robillard's eyes widened considerably as he considered a fish that appeared suddenly on the deck at Harkle's feet. "No!" he cried, reaching for the Harpell, figuring out what type of spell Harkle had enacted. "You cannot cast an extra dimension on an item enchanted with an extra dimension!"

Robillard had guessed correctly; Harkle was trying to pull in the sinking magical chest by creating an extra-dimensional gate in the region where the rowboat and the chest went down. It was a good idea, or would have been, except that the chest Tarnheel had promised to the Sea Sprite was a chest of holding-a contained extra-dimensional space that could hold much more volume than would be indicated by the item's size and weight. The problem was that extra-dimensional spells and items did not usually mesh correctly. Throwing a bag of holding into a chest of holding, for example, could tear a rift in the multiverse, spewing everything nearby into the Astral Plane, or even worse, into the unknown space between the planes of existence.

"Oops," Harkle apologized, realizing his error and trying to let go of his enchantment.

Too late. A huge wave erupted right in the area where the row-boat had gone down, rocking the approaching caravel and rolling into Drizzt and Dunkin, hurling them toward the Sea Sprite. The water churned and danced, then began to roll, forming a giant whirlpool.

"Sail on!" Deudermont cried as ropes were thrown out to Drizzt and Dunkin. "Sail on, for all our lives!"

The sails fell open, and crewmen immediately pulled to put them against the wind. At once the Sea Sprite lurched and rolled away, gliding swiftly out of the harbor.

Things were not as easy for the pursuing caravel. The pirate ship tried to tack and turn, but was too close to the mounting whirlpool. She crested the lip and was pulled sideways violently, many of her crew being tossed overboard into the turmoil. Around she went, once and then twice. Those aboard the Sea Sprite watched her sails diminish as she sank lower and lower into the spin.

But other than horrified Harkle, the eyes of those on the Sea Sprite had to go outward, to the two vessels lying in wait. Robillard called up a mist, understanding that Deudermont's intent was not to engage, but to slip by, out into the open waters. Waillan's crew fired at will, as did the archers, while several crewmen, Deudermont among them, hauled Drizzt and a very shaken Dunkin Tallmast aboard.

"Sealed," Drizzt said to Deudermont with a wry smile, producing a capped scroll tube that obviously contained the map to Caerwich.

Deudermont clapped him on the shoulder and turned to go to the wheel. Both surveyed the situation, and both figured that the Sea Sprite would have little trouble slipping through this trap.

The situation looked bright, to those looking forward. But hanging over the stern rail, Harkle Harpell could only watch in dismay. Rationally, he knew that his unintentional catastrophe had probably saved Drizzt and the other man in the rowboat, and probably would make the Sea Sprite's run all the easier, but the gentle Harkle could not suffer the sights of the turmoil within the whirlpool and the screams of the drowning men. He muttered, "oh, no," over and over, searched his mind for some spell that might help the poor men of the caravel.

But then, almost as suddenly as it had appeared, the whirlpool dissipated, the water flattening to perfect, glassy calm. The caravel remained, hanging so low to the side that her sails nearly touched the water.

Harkle breathed a deep sigh of relief and thanked whatever gods might be listening. The water was full of sailors, but they all seemed close enough to get to the swamped hull.

Harkle clapped his hands happily and ran down from the poop deck, joining Deudermont and Drizzt by the wheel. The engagement was on in full by then, with the two square-riggers trading shots with the Sea Sprite, though none of the three were close enough to inflict any real damage.

Deudermont eyed Harkle curiously.

"What?" asked the flustered mage.

"Have you any more fireballs in you?" Deudermont asked.

Harkle paled. So soon after the horror of the whirlpool, he really didn't have the heart to burn up another vessel. But that wasn't what sly Deudermont had in mind.

"Put one in the water between our enemies," the captain explained, then looked to Drizzt. "I'll run for the mist and swing to port, then we'll have time to contend with only one of the pirate ships up close."

Drizzt nodded. Harkle brightened, and was more than happy to comply. He waited for Deudermont's signal, then skipped a fireball just under the waves. There came a flash and then a thick cloud of steam.

Deudermont headed straight for it, and the square-riggers predictably turned to cut off such an escape. Soon before plunging into the mist, Deudermont cut hard to port, skimming the cloud and angling outside the pirate ship farthest to the left.

They would pass close, but that didn't bother Deudermont much, not with the Sea Sprite's speed and Robillard's magical defenses.

An explosion soon changed Deudermont's mind, a heavy ball of iron shearing through Robillard's defensive shields and snipping through a fair amount of rigging as well.

"They've got a smokepowder gun!" Harkle roared.

"A what?" Drizzt and Deudermont asked at the same time.

"Arquebus," Harkle whimpered, and his hands began spinning large circles in the air. "Big arquebus."

"A what?" the two asked again.

Harkle couldn't begin to explain, but his horrified expression spoke volumes. Smokepowder was a rare and dangerous thing, a fiendish concoction of Gondish priests that used sheer explosive energy to launch missiles from metal barrels, and oftentimes, to inadvertently blow apart the barrels. "One in ten," was the saying among those who knew smokepowder best, meaning that one in ten attempts to fire would likely blow up in your face. Harkle figured these pirates must truly despise the Sea Sprite to risk such a dangerous attack.

But still, even if the one in ten rule held true, nine in ten could take the Sea Sprite out of the water!

Harkle knew that he had to act as the seconds passed, as the others, even Robillard, looked on helplessly, not understanding what they were suddenly up against. Smokepowder was more common in the far eastern reaches of the Realms, and had even been used in Cormyr, so it was said. Of course, there were rumors that it had surfaced just a bit on the Sword Coast, mostly aboard

ships. Harkle considered his options, considered the volume of smokepowder and its volatility, considered the weapons he had at his disposal.

"A metal cylinder!" Catti-brie called down from the crow's nest, spotting the targeting gun through the steam.

"With bags near to it?" Harkle cried back.

"I cannot see!" Catti-brie called, for the cloud continued to drift and to obscure her vision of the pirate ship's deck.

Harkle knew that time was running out. The smokepowder cannon wasn't very accurate, but it didn't have to be, for one of its shots could take down a mast, and even a glancing hit on the hull would likely blow a hole large enough to sink the schooner.

"Aim for it!" Harkle cried out. "For the cylinder and the decking near to it!"

Catti-brie was never one to trust in Harkle Harpell, but his reasoning then seemed unusually sound. She put up Taulmaril and sent off an arrow, then another, thinking to disable the crew near to the cylinder, if not take out the weapon itself. Through the fog, she saw the sparks as one enchanted arrow skipped off the cylinder, then heard a cry of pain as she nailed one of the gunners.

The Sea Sprite ran on, nearing the pirate ship. Harkle bit at his fingernails. Dunkin, who also knew of smokepowder guns, tugged at his large ears.

"Oh, turn away the ship," Harkle bade Deudermont. "Too close, too close. They'll fire it off again right into our faces, and knock us under the waves."

Deudermont didn't know how to respond. He had already learned that Robillard's magic couldn't stop the smokepowder weapon. Indeed, when the captain glanced back to Robillard, he found the wizard frantically creating gusts of wind to speed their passage, apparently with no intent of even trying to stop a second shot. Still, if the captain tried to turn to port, he would likely be in range of that weapon for some time, and if he tried to veer to starboard, he might not be able to even get past the pirate ship and into the cloud, might ram the ship head-on. Even if they could then defeat the crew of this ship, her two remaining friends would have little trouble in overcoming the Sea Sprite.

"Get the wizard and get to them," Deudermont said to Drizzt. "And get the cat. We need you now, my friend!"

Drizzt started to move, but Harkle, spotting the light of a torch near to where Catti-brie had pointed out the cylinder, shouted out "no time!" and dove flat to the deck.

From on high, Catti-brie saw the torch, and with its light, she also saw the large sacks that Harkle had inquired about. She instinctively aimed for the torchbearer, thinking to slow the smokepowder crew, but then took a chance and agreed with Harkle, shifting her aim slightly and letting fly, straight for the pile of sacks on the pirate's decking.

Her arrow streaked in the instant before the man put the torch to the cannon, as the Sea Sprite was running practically parallel to the pirate ship. It was just an instant, but in that time, the torchbearer was foiled, was blown into the air as the streaking arrow sliced into the sacks of volatile smokepowder.

The pirate ship nearly stood straight up on end. The fireball was beyond anything Harkle, or even Robillard, had ever seen, and the sheer concussion and flying debris nearly cleaned the Sea Sprite's deck of standing crewmen, and tore many holes in the schooner's lateen sails.

The Sea Sprite lurched wildly, left and right, before Deudermont could regain his senses and steady the wheel. But she plowed on, leaving the trap behind.

"By the gods," Catti-brie muttered, truly horrified, for where the pirate square-rigger had been, there was now only flotsam and jetsam, splinters, charred wood, and floating bodies.

Drizzt, too, was stunned. Looking on the carnage, he thought he was previewing the end of the world. He had never seen such devastation, such complete carnage, not even from a powerful wizard. Enough smokepowder could flatten a mountain, or a city. Enough smokepowder could flatten all the world.

"Smokepowder?" he said to Harkle.

"From Gondish priests," the wizard replied.

"Damn them all," muttered Drizzt, and he walked away.

Later that day, as the crew worked to repair the tears in the sails, Drizzt and Catti-brie took a break and leaned on the rail of the schooner's bow, looking down at the empty water and considering the great distance they had yet to travel.

Finally Catti-brie couldn't stand the suspense any longer. "Did ye beat him?" she asked.

Drizzt looked at her curiously, as though he didn't understand.

"His tyrancy," Catti-brie explained.

"I brought the map," Drizzt replied, "and the chest, though it was lost."

"Ah, but Dunkin promised it whether ye won or lost," the young woman said slyly.

Drizzt looked at her. "The contest was never important," he said. "Not to me."

"Did ye win or lose?" Catti-brie pressed, not willing to let the drow slip out of this one.

"Sometimes it is better to allow so important a leader and valuable an ally to retain his pride and his reputation," Drizzt replied, looking back to the sea, then to the mizzenmast, where a crewman was calling for some assistance.

"Ye let him beat ye?" Catti-brie asked, not seeming pleased by that prospect.

"I never said that," Drizzt replied.

"So he beat ye on his own," the young woman reasoned.

Drizzt shrugged as he walked away toward the mizzenmast to help out the crewman. He passed by Harkle and Robillard, who were coming forward, apparently meaning to join Drizzt and Catti-brie at the rail.

Catti-brie continued to stare at the drow as the wizards walked up. The woman did not know what to make of Drizzt's cryptic answers. Drizzt had let Tarnheel win, she figured, or at least had allowed the man to fight him to a draw. For some reason the young woman did not understand, she didn't want to think that Tarnheel had actually beaten Drizzt; she didn't want to think that anyone could beat Drizzt.

Both Robillard and Harkle were smiling widely as they considered the young woman's expression.

"Drizzt beat him," Robillard said at last.

Startled, Catti-brie turned to the wizard.

"That is what you were wondering about," Robillard reasoned.

"We watched it all," Harkle said. "Oh, of course we did. A good match." Harkle went into a fighting crouch, his best imitation of Drizzt in combat, which of course seemed a mockery to Catti-brie. "He started left," Harkle began, making the move, "then ran to the right so quickly and smoothly that Tarnheel never realized it."

"Until he got hit," Robillard interjected. "His tyrancy was still swinging forward, attacking a ghost, I suppose."

That made sense to Catti-brie; the move they had just described was called "the ghost step."

"He learned better, he did!" howled Harkle.

"Suffice it to say that his tyrancy will not be sitting down anytime soon," Robillard finished, and the two wizards exploded into laughter, as animated as Catti-brie had ever seen Robillard.

The young woman went back to the rail as the two walked away, howling still. Catti-brie was smiling too. She now knew the truth of Drizzt's claims that the fight wasn't important to him. She'd make certain that she teased the drow about it in the days to come. She also was smiling because Drizzt had won.

For some reason, that was very important to Catti-brie.