Cale nodded, picked the halfling up from under his armpits, adjusted his hold, and squeezed his ribcage.
"Jak!"
The halfling lay limp in Cale's grasp. He squeezed again.
With shocking suddenness, the halfling spasmed back to life, coughed up a stomachful of river water, then immediately vomited his partially-digested rations from breakfast. Cale couldn't help but smile. He lowered Jak, still coughing, to the ground.
Cale knelt beside him, put a hand on his shoulder, and asked, "Are you all right?"
Jak coughed a bit more and dry heaved before the fit passed.
He groaned and managed a weak, "I'm all right. Thanks."
Cale nodded, thinking that Jak still looked pale.
By the time Magadon neared the shore, Riven had already regained consciousness.
"I can swim, godsdamnit," said Riven, sputtering. "I don't need to be ca-"
The assassin inhaled a mouthful of water, sending him off into a fit of coughing and cursing.
"Keep your mouth closed," Magadon ordered.
The guide continued to swim to shore until they reached the shallows and could wade. There, he helped Riven get his feet under him and the two stumbled onto the beach.
"You look like all Nine Hells," Riven said to Jak.
The halfling was too tired to respond.
With all of them safely on the black sand beach, they sagged to the ground and lay there for a time, saying nothing, with Faerun for a ceiling and a score of stone points aimed at their chests.
"We convinced the river fey," Magadon said at last, with a touch too much disbelief.
"You sound surprised," Cale said.
Magadon shook his head, sat up, and wrung out his hat. Somehow, he had managed to keep it, though he had lost his oversized backpack to the river.
"Not surprised, just . . . pleased. What did you tell him?" the guide asked Cale.
"What I plan to do someday," Cale answered.
Magadon accepted that without further questions.
Once Jak was more or less recovered, he looked around with interest. He took in the tunnel, the river, and the darkness.
"The Underdark, eh?" he said, and reached for his pipe. He frowned when he found it and the pipeweed sodden. "You have any dry leaf, Zhent?" he asked Riven.
"You ought not smoke, Jak," Magadon admonished.
The halfling waved the guide's advice aside and said, "I'm guilty of a handful of vices, Magadon. I'll not let a little river water keep me from my favorite."
Magadon said nothing and Riven tossed Jak his tin.
Jak popped it open and smiled when he saw that the interior was still dry. The halfling tamped the pipe and tried to light it, but the river had left his tindertwigs soaked. Cale smiled at Jak's forlorn expression.
"That's Tymora looking out for you, Jak," said Magadon. "Smoke later."
"First thing I get when we get to Skullport," the halfling said, "is a tindertwig."
He tossed the dry tin of pipeweed back to Riven, who absently snatched it from the air.
Riven climbed to his feet and wrung out his cloak and gear as much as he could.
"We follow the river's current," the assassin said. "It empties into the harbor outside Skullport. The cavern containing the city is not far."
They all nodded but no one else stood. Cale gave Jak and Magadon a short time more to recover themselves before climbing to his feet.
"Ready?" he asked and extended a hand to Jak.
"Ready," Jak answered. He took Cale's hand and pulled himself up. Magadon rose, checked his blades, inventoried his gear not lost to the river, and nodded.
The City of Skulls and the slaadi awaited.
* * * * *
Following Riven's lead, they picked their way between the sharp rocks along the riverbank's black sand beaches for what felt to Jak like hours. The phosphorescent lichen provided just enough light to travel by, albeit slowly. Throughout, the halfling alternated his gaze between the water and the cave mouths that opened in the wall of the tunnel. Both the water and caves were black and quiet, as though they hid dark secrets. They made Jak nervous.
"They're just holes Fleet," Riven said, "and ordinary river water. In truth, I'm surprised we've seen no ships. There are invisible, intangible portals all along the river, each made visible and operational by a unique magical phrase. That's how most of the slave ships arrive and leave."
Jak noticed that Riven's voice dropped slightly when he said the word "slave." The halfling wondered but did not ask if the assassin had been crewman or cargo the last time he'd set foot in the City of Skulls. Riven offered nothing more, and they continued onward.
After a time the river and the riverbanks began to widen. From ahead, carrying down the tunnel, Jak caught the faint sound of voices and activity. A short time later, its source still hidden behind a curve in the passage, Jak saw a soft orange glow reflecting off the black water ahead: flickering firelight, rather than the steady, dimmer orange phosphorescence of the ubiquitous lichen.
Riven stopped and turned around to face them, as though he had just made up his mind about something.
"We're nearly there, now," said the assassin. "Remember what I said. We keep a light tread here. Do not attract the attention of the Skulls. I've seen what they can do." He looked hard at Jak and Cale. "You're going to see things here. . .." He trailed off, shook his head and stated, "You cannot right what's wrong with this place. Understood?"
Cale and Jak shared a look but both nodded. Jak wondered what Skullport could offer that he had not seen before. He supposed he would know soon enough.
Seemingly satisfied, Riven turned and led them forward.
While they walked, Jak fell in beside Cale and whispered, "I've never seen the Zhent so agitated."
He watched the assassin's back-the tension visible there-and wondered again what had happened to Riven in Skullport.
Softly, Cale replied, "Me either."