I turned to Robillard and asked, quietly so Lucky wouldn't hear, "Howlongwill this enchantment last?" I motioned toward my feet.

  "Hours, if I let it," he answered with a wink that was not unfriendly. "Why?"

  "Hey, Lucky," I called, without breaking eye contact with Robillard. "Do me a favor."

  "Whatsat?"

  "Tell Captain Deudermont-thank you for your hospitality, and for your offer, but I am resigning my position aboard his ship."

  I heard the oars stop rowing, and Lucky stuttered out something like, "What?"

  Robillard looked at me hard then nodded and smiled. "So you are a runaway."

  "A runaway." I almost laughed. "I guess you could say I've been running my entire life, sir."

  And with that, I turned and sprinted across the water toward Memnon.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Memnon's sprawl proved even more confusing on the ground than it had appeared from the ship. The streets weren't paved, and didn't seem to have been laid out according to any kind of plan. Instead, a street was simply any space not occupied by a building. The vast majority of the structures were shoddily built and atrocious to look at, but the people were amazing. As I pushed through the crowded streets, I saw that almost everyone was brightly dressed, their heads wrapped in turbans of red and blue and black. Most of their faces were covered by veils, some dark and obscuring, others sheer and showing a hint of the features beneath.I moved with as much haste as I dared. I had no idea whether the city guard could be influenced by the demon. But I had learned that Asbeel's agents could be anywhere, and I couldn't risk attracting anyone's attention. I no longer had anyone to protect me-I no longer had anyone to fall on my behalf.

  And how could I, in good conscience, associate with anyone ever again knowing a demon followed me? My heart sank as I pictured my future: a life of solitude, always moving, until one day I slipped and Asbeel caught up to me.

  I considered leaving Memnon. I could head south, into the harsh Calim Desert. I had read books about survival in harsh climates, including the parched sandscape of the desert. I would be able to journey a few days into the desert, at least. Out there, out in the wasteland alone, I could bury the stone, and bury it deep. No one would follow me, and no one would find it. I would be free. And no one else would be hurt on my behalf.

  But what would become of me then? Somehow the stone was linked to my family. Somehow it was part of my destiny. Perrault had told me so. How would he feel to know that I planned to toss it away? My face flushed at the thought and I knew the answer.

  After all those days aboard Sea Sprite, I had learned one thing for certain: no matter how far I traveled, across the sea to the ends of Toril, through the sands of the Calim Desert, Asbeel would never be far behind. And I was so tired of running.

  The streets of Memnon wound randomly and sometimes ended suddenly, but just as often met at the intersection of half a dozen streets, each looking exactly like the next. The sprawl was an enormous maze, and before long I was completely lost.

  Just before sunset, I found myself somewhere in the middle of the city, with neither the outer walls nor the docks in sight, and no real idea where either might be. I couldn't wander around the city all night. Even if I wanted to leave Memnon, I had no idea how.

  Lost in thought, I turned down a darkened alley. My feet throbbed and my stomach ached with hunger. Soon I would have to find a place to rest.

  A movement farther up the alley caught my eye, a shadow moving among the shadows.

  In an instant, my pain flew away and my heart set to racing. Asbeel, or one of his dark agents, had come calling.

  I turned back the way I came, and looked directly into a pair of glowing yellow eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Startled, I barely managed to stifle a scream as I backed up, reaching awkwardly for the stiletto sheathed in my belt. Just as my hand found the thin dagger's hilt, my heel found a crate, and already off my balance, I tumbled hard to my backside.The yellow-eyed creature leaped in surprise at the sound, hissing and baring its feline claws at me, then darted into the shadows. I found myself laughing despite my situation. Defeated by a mere tabby cat!

  I was left staring up at the sky, feeling ashamed that a tiny cat had so frightened me. I thought I heard footsteps clattering along the rooftop at the end of the dark alley.

  Had Asbeel found me, even here? Or was I being paranoid?

  I stared up at a pile of old crates, reaching nearly to the roof of the building. As I pulled myself to my feet, I thought of a phrase I had heard before-luck favors the bold.

  It was time for me to be bold.

  The crates proved easy to scale. The sturdy wood easily supported my weight and the pyramid shape of the stack formed almost a stairway. The topmost crate was barely three feet below the edge of the roof, and soon I was climbing out of the gloomy alley and into the glowing sunset.

  Here the light was even brighter than it had been in the streets. The rooftops all around were made of some kind of white tile, and at that moment were perfectly angled to catch the rays of the descending sun. The glare stung my eyes. I shaded my eyes and glanced back and forth across the glimmering rooftops.

  I could see almost the entirety of Memnon laid out before me. At least I wouldn't be lost in the jumble of streets. I turned to the west and thought I saw a lanky, elf-like figure in a black and violet cloak slipping around the chimney of the rundown building.

  I gripped my dagger tighter and took in a breath. If Asbeel wanted the stone, he would have to fight me for it. I would not let him chase me anymore.

  I broke into a full run after the shadowy figure. Not three streets away, the figure seemed to slip down the side of the building and disappear. Even from a distance, I could see the stands of the marketplace below. They bustled with more people, I imagined, than lived in the entirety of Baldur's Gate. I had to hurry or I would lose him among the many people.

  I leaped the last five-foot-wide alley onto the roof of a brick building. Directly below me, vendors' carts hustled down the street that led into the market square. The only question was how to make my way down from the rooftops back onto the street without anyone spotting me. It was perhaps twenty feet, a fair fall indeed. But I had read in one of Perrault's books that when falling beside a wall, martial warriors and monks of Shou Lung would use their hands and feet to slow their descent. Upon landing, they tuck and roll to absorb much of the momentum. It was a move I had longed to try since I'd first read about it and it seemed as good a time as any.

  I tucked my dagger into my boot and dropped.

  As I plummeted toward the ground, I realized that reading about a move and performing it were two very different things. With nothing to grasp at, I couldn't possibly slow myself. The surprised shouts of the people below barely registered. All I saw was the inevitable end of my journey, the unpaved dirt road, rushing up to meet me.

  But then a pale form cut in front of me, a great white sheet of fabric, billowing in the breeze as it dangled from a clothesline. The sheet caught an unexpected gust of wind and fluttered toward me, a helping hand reaching out to catch me. I wasn't about to argue-I grabbed for the fabric.

  The clothesline bowed and the sheet stretched, until finally the pins keeping the line and the fabric together surrendered to the force and popped loose, dropping me the last fifteen feet.

  Instead of the hard-packed dirt road, I landed directly onto a cart of fresh melons. As I thumped down into the cart, melons exploded all around me, covering me, the laundry, and the street in red and purple juice and pulp.

  "Oy, oaf! What've ye done?" A man rushed toward me, brandishing a gourd like a club. "I'll smack yer little head in, I will!"

  I rolled out of the fruit cart and reached into my pocket. I pulled out what few coins I had and tossed them at the man. It was not nearly enough to pay for all the fruit, I knew, but it was something.

  As the coins arced through the air, they caught the sun, distracting the man and the other onlookers long enough for me to turn and sprint down the road.

  The man continued to yell, though I couldn't make out the words, and a woman's shrill screech joined in. "He ruined my best bed sheet!"

  I raced into the market and pushed through the crowd of people as best I could. Ahead of me I heard gasps, curses, and the crash of an overturned vendor's kiosk. It was Asbeel. It had to be. I couldn't let him hurt any more people on my behalf. I cut turn after turn, weaving around people's legs. At last I saw the figure dart into an alley, and I picked up my pace to follow him.

  But as soon as I crossed into the shade of the narrow lane, I felt a little shiver roll through my body.

  My heart pounded in my ears, but I was unable to move.

  Chapter Thirty

  "Don't fret, young Maimun," a voice said. A woman's voice, it was melodic and beautiful, and not at all threatening. "I have placed upon you a spell of holding. You will be unable to move for a short time. I am sorry for it, but it had to be done."She stepped from the shadows, though it took me a moment to see her. She was completely covered in a dark robe, her hood pulled up, a black mask covering her face. The mask was a solid piece of obsidian, I figured, carved to look like a human face, completely blank of expression. It covered her whole face, even her eyes.

  I tried to scream at her, to tell her to let me go, but I couldn't speak through her spell.

  "Do you know what the stone you carry is, Maimun?" she asked. "It is an artifact blessed by the goddess Tymora, the bearer of good fortune. To the soul it has chosen, it will bring good luck, as long as it is close at hand."

  And so I learned the answer I had wished so long for Perrault to give me, the power the stone held over me. The events of the past few moments fell into sharp focus. It was good fortune that I had found a billowing sheet to break my fall. And the melon wagon, coming at just the right moment- the stone had brought that good fortune upon me too. The pieces began to tumble into place, and they threw my whole journey, my whole life, into question. I had thought it was my choices that had led me to Sea Sprite. But had the stone itself given me the luck I needed to stow away unseen? Had it given me the strength to fight the troll, to save the ship? Without it, would I have ever found my place at sea?

  "Unfortunately," the woman said as she crept closer, "luck in this world is finite. One person's good luck means another's misfortune."

  The woman's objective became crystal clear, and I struggled mightily against her spell. My own purpose became clear.

  For better or for worse, the stone had shaped my past and was meant to shape my future. I could not let it go. I could never let it go. The stone had been bestowed upon me for a reason. Perrault had trusted me to discover that reason and to protect the stone at all costs. After all that he had done for me, I couldn't betray his trust.

  The woman calmly began opening my shirt. "This stone throws luck out of balance. While it favors you, it will hurt others. And that is not acceptable."

  My shirt was open, and she reached around me to gently unfasten the buckle and remove the whole sash. I felt it pull away, as if my skin were stuck to the leather, as if my body stretched out, trying to hold onto it. But then it was gone. My chest stung where the stone had rested, and my heart felt empty.

  She tucked the stone under her robe and stepped back. "The stone will be kept safe from those who seek to use it for ill gains, and you shall be free of your burden."

  I had once dreamed of being free of the stone's burden. But now that it was gone, I realized how wrong I had been. This hurt.

  "Now, Maimun, I'mgoingto cast another spell on you. This one will put you into a deep sleep. You'll wake up tomorrow morning, refreshed, and I urge you to look upon it as a new life."

  I don't want a new life, I thought. I want the stone. I willed myself to reach for Perrault's dagger and for a moment, I thought I had broken her spell.

  My voice broke through the silence. "Give… it… back!" I shouted.

  But the woman began an arcane chant, and soon I found myself following along mentally. I drifted along the river of soothing sound she created and soon I was fast asleep.

  The strange woman was wrong. I would not sleep until morning light. I woke up sometime long past darkness, to someone prodding at my shoulder.

  I found myself staring at a pair of shiny leather boots. Rising from the boots was a pair of legs, clothed in fine black silk pants, and above that, a pristine white shirt.

  And above that, a snarling, red-skinned elf face.

  "Where is it, boy?" Asbeel spat at me. "Where is the stone?"

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  R. A. Salvatore, The Stowaway

 

 

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