The Lost Library of Cormanthyr (24 page)

“What was there?” Calebaan asked.

“According to the housekeeper, there were a number of tables that held models of dig sites that Golsway had been to.”

“Dig sites?” The wizard studied her shrewdly, then turned his attention back to the ranger. With calm and purpose, Baylee continued putting hunks of papier mache together, seeming to get more confidence as each piece fit together. “You mean excavation points? Caves in the ground?”

“And buildings.” Cordyan nodded. “They were memories, according to the housekeeper. Sometimes Golsway would invite a promising student over to study an interesting facet of the archeological find. But that was not often.”

Calebaan scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Curious, isn’t it?”

Cordyan lifted an eyebrow and smiled. “The possibility that Golsway left the find he was working on out in plain sight?”

“Yes.”

“I find it frustrating that the old mage would have thought of something like this. Yet, it is very believable.”

“You have to wonder, though, how Baylee thought of it.”

“The answer to that is simple enough,” Cordyan answered. “He had to know what Golsway was working on.”

“Even though he told you he did not?”

“Either he was lying, or seeing this room and those models brought a perception to him that he didn’t know would be made. He went through the house with me on his heels for six hours this morning.” That was one of the biggest reasons Cordyan was so tired now. When Copert’s Conquest, the ship they had taken from the other end of the dimensional gate, had tied up at the docks just after midnight last night, Baylee had insisted on coming to the house instead of taking a room at an inn and sleeping.

“I’m glad I got the sleep I did,” Calebaan commented. “Have you been to bed yet?”

“No.”

“You should think about it.”

“I do,” Cordyan admitted ruefully, “and those thoughts make keeping my eyes open even harder.”

“I can take over here,” the watch wizard offered.

“No.” Cordyan blinked her eyes with effort again, feeling the grains of sleep moving around in them. She knew Calebaan wouldn’t take the decline of his offer personally. They had worked together long enough for him to realize that she was thorough and liked to do things her way. “If Baylee can do without the sleep, then so can I.”

The ranger looked up abruptly. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his forefingers steepled together and supporting his chin. He hadn’t shaved his facial hair in the last few days, and a dark shadow covered his jaw line. “Can you get something to eat brought here?”

Cordyan studied the man. It was the first time he’d asked for anything, almost the first words he’d spoken independently without being prompted with a question since entering the home. “Of course,” she answered. “What would you like?”

“There’s a tavern down along the wharf in the dock ward,” Baylee said, “called the Emerald Lantern. If he still works there, a cook named Tau Grimsby will set a plate showcasing the best from the sea and from the fields, along with an assortment of steamed vegetables and sauteed mushrooms, for only a few silvers. Maybe you could send someone for it.” He offered a purse that held the clink of coins.

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” Baylee tossed the coin purse over to her, then turned his attention back to the model he was reassembling. “Feel free to have them get you anything you’d like as well. But I recommend this plate.”

Cordyan sent for a watch officer and bade him go to the Emerald Lantern. Hardly had he gone when Baylee called for her.

“I think I have it,” the ranger said.

“Have what?” Cordyan crossed the room, stepping over loose debris and blackened boards.

“Where Golsway’s interests lay,” Baylee said, “if not exactly what he was searching for.”

Cordyan studied the mound of grass-green papier mache piled on the floor in front of Baylee. “And what do you think it is?”

“Where it is,” Baylee reiterated. “You’ve heard of the Greycloak Hills?”

“Of course.” Cordyan was intrigued. The Greycloak Hills were a known destination for adventuring bands.

“In years past,” Baylee said, making a final adjustment to some of the papier mache pieces he’d fit together, “the Greycloak Hills were called the Tomb Hills. Tombs from the Fallen Kingdom were spread throughout those hills. Many valuable artifacts were found there. Golsway and I went on three major expeditions to the area. Never did we return empty-handed.”

Cordyan surveyed the model he’d assembled. “How do you know this wasn’t an old representation of one of those excavation sites?”

“Because we never found anything in the Greycloak Hills that Golsway would have put on exhibition,” Baylee answered.

“And this is new?” she asked.

“I’ve never seen it here.”

“You believe that Golsway was interested in a new dig site in the Greycloak Hills?” Calebaan asked.

“No.” The ranger pointed out identifying landmarks. “This is a very old one, one of the very first. More than a hundred years back, the exact year is open to some conjecture, an adventuring party under the leadership of Bulwgar Helmm journeyed there and discovered enough in treasure to help open the floodgates of tomb raiders that slipped into the area.”

“You believe that Golsway discovered something that had been missed in the earlier excavation?” Cordyan asked.

“That fits this scenario.” Baylee shifted, trying to find a place that fit him more comfortably.

Cordyan understood his motivation. She was tired of staying inside the house, wearied from standing so much in one spot. And she’d not been hunkered over the little pieces of models for hours.

“Those early excavations were purely cursory,” Baylee said. “Groups charged into the area and took what they could find. A number of hidden areas were missed.”

“You didn’t find Golsway’s journal, did you?”

Baylee shook his head. “You’ve been with me the whole time. Did you see me find it?”

“No.” Cordyan stared at the model, willing it to make sense. Only it sat there. “I need to be better convinced of the authenticity of your claim.”

“All right. In the north ward, you’ll find a mapmaker,” Baylee said. “His name is Yassit Daggle. For a price, you can persuade him to come here with his topographical maps and confirm what I’m showing you. This section of the Greycloak Hills is quite distinctive to someone who’s been there.”

Cordyan glanced at Calebaan, silently seeking his advice.

“I know of Daggle,” the watch wizard said.

“If his fee is a consideration,” Baylee put in, “I’ll gladly pay it myself.”

“No,” Cordyan replied. “The coffers of Waterdeep and the Watch are not so shallow that they cannot cover a mapmaker’s expense.”

“Good. I’ll need him here, and whatever latest maps of the area he might have to make a better guess about what Golsway was after.”

“The elves from Evereska have taken over the lands of the Greycloak Hills of late,” Calebaan said. “There is much speculation that they have discovered sources of magic, and perhaps even treasures, that have not yet been found.”

“Everyone connected with this has displayed a vast resource of magic,” Baylee said quietly.

Cordyan held her own counsel. The conclusions the ranger offered fit the circumstances. She looked into Baylee’s jade green gaze. “It will take time to find the truth.”

“Maybe more than you realize,” Calebaan said. “The elves dwelling in the Greycloak Hills these days are very territorial.”

The watch officer who had been sent to the Emerald Lantern returned carrying a large basket and a wine flask. He placed the food and wine on a nearby table. “The cook wishes for you to enjoy your repast,” the man said. “And wishes for you to drop in on him as time presents itself.”

Baylee crossed the room to the table. When he lifted the lid on the basket, Cordyan smelled the aroma of the food. “Would the two of you care to join me?” the ranger asked. “Enough was sent.”

Cordyan shook her head, trying to keep distance between herself and the ranger. Over the last days of travel, keeping that distance had been hard. Baylee was a friendly man, and despite the present situation, generally of good humor. And his travels around all of Faerun made him an interesting conversationalist.

“If you really don’t mind,” Calebaan said, “I might nibble on a few things.”

“Please help yourself.” Baylee pulled the wine flask up and turned it so he could read the label. He smiled in appreciation. “Tau must have been in a generous mood today.” He showed Calebaan the label.

“A very good year,” the watch wizard agreed.

Baylee held out his hands, showing the dirt and the grime from reassembling the model pieces. “I’m going to wash up and come right back.” He left the room, going up the stairs.

Calebaan rummaged in the basket, bringing out a large buttered shrimp. He bit into it, then made a growl of approval. “You should really try this.”

Cordyan felt irritated at her friend, which let her know exactly how tired she was. “No, thank you.” She stared hard at the model. “Do you believe him? About the Greycloak Hills?”

“I can find no reason not to.” Calebaan searched in the basket still further and emerged triumphant with a cube of beef that still showed a little pink. “Why? What do you think?”

“What I think,” Cordyan said, “is that Baylee Arnvold would make an excellent card player.” She rubbed the back of her neck, wishing her eyelids did not feel so heavy. As she rotated her neck, she noticed the azmyth bat no longer clung to the ceiling. “Where is Xuxa?”

“Who?”

Cordyan gazed around the room, noting the open window leading out to the balcony. “The bat,” she explained. Where she had spent time with Baylee, Calebaan had spent most of his time with Civva Cthulad.

Calebaan put the beef into his mouth as he glanced at the ceiling. “It was there.”

“Not any more.” With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Cordyan ran up the stairs to the privy there. The door was locked from the inside when she arrived. She pounded on the door. “Baylee.”

The other watch officers clearing debris looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

But there was no answer from the other side of the door.

Cordyan drew her foot back and smashed it against the jamb. The door popped open at once. When she stepped inside, she spotted the open window on the other side of the room. She crossed over to it and looked out. Even though Fannt Golsway’s house was sequestered to an extent, many streets ran by it.

She didn’t see Baylee Arnvold on any of them.

Your departure from the house isn’t going to be appreciated, Xuxa said.

Baylee ran through the streets of the Sea Ward. It felt good to be out, back in the town where he’d been raised. There was a scent blowing in from the Sea of Swords that he’d missed these last months.

I couldn’t stay there, and you know that. He slowed his pace as he neared the more populated sections of the city.

Whether Golsway left a message for you or not, Xuxa pointed out, your credibility with the watch is going to be invalidated.

Anger flashed through Baylee, but he knew it wasn’t really directed at Xuxa. She was stating the things he needed to be thinking about while he pursued his goal.

If I had told the watch about the message drop Golsway had shown me those years ago, the whole of Waterdeep would have known by nightfall. Golsway gave his life for this secret, whatever it is. I’m not going to be responsible for it getting out.

I know. But what if you are wrong and Golsway left no message for you?

Baylee was quiet for a time, still using a long-legged stride. Only two more streets in front of him, he spotted Hakamme’s blacksmith shop. Hakamme also had horses and a full kit, for a price.

I don’t know, Baylee finally answered. First, I need to know if there is a note.

Cordyan got her men organized quickly, splitting them up into groups. Luckily, some of the men had horses nearby. She heard about the purchase Baylee Arnvold had made at Hakamme’s only moments after it happened. The blacksmith was reluctant to give the information, but when he found out he was speaking to a lieutenant of the watch, he gave the answers quickly enough.

Seated on her borrowed mount, Cordyan wheeled about. All the blacksmith had was the general direction Baylee had taken: further into the heart of Waterdeep.

“He has a destination,” Calebaan said. “Does Golsway have any other holdings in Waterdeep?”

Cordyan shook her head. “None that we’ve found.”

“What about the law-reader Golsway used?”

“Senior Civilar Closl has already talked to him. There was nothing he could tell us.”

“Could or would? Mayhap he’s only awaiting Baylee’s arrival to turn over whatever properties he was charged with handling for the old mage after his death.”

Cordyan conceded that it was a good point. She called to one of the other riders and sent him spurring his mount away. She was angry with herself. She should have known not to trust the ranger.

But to further complicate matters, Civva Cthulad had also disappeared from the house.

Baylee tied his newly acquired horse in front of Nalkie’s Ale and Bitters. He spoke a few soothing words to the gray dappled gelding, easing its mind. He could tell from the way it moved under him that it had picked up on his anxiety.

Nalkie’s was down in the dock ward, and fully half of the building hung out over Waterdeep Harbor. With space around the dock area being at a premium, old Nalkie had been offered several times what the building and the business were worth over the years, but had repeatedly declined to sell. Part of it was because he enjoyed the men his establishment brought in, usually sea-faring men and adventurers.

The other part was because men like Fannt Golsway chipped in with an annual stipend to make running the business more worthwhile. Men who were going to get things done without being in the public eye needed a place where they could meet men who dwelt in shadows. No one knew exactly how much Nalkie brought in on an average year. To hear Nalkie tell it, though, every year he’d just missed ending up in the Lords’ Court for not paying his taxes.

Baylee kept Xuxa hidden under his cloak, feeling her body pressed against his. The road in front of the tavern was narrow and treacherous. Stores fronted each other in a horseshoe bend. A pocket of trees separated Nalkie’s from a clothier’s next to it, and the trees reached all the way down the hillside to the ocean. The tide had worn the rocks smooth over the years, creating distinct borders within the stone.