"I don't see why we have to share," the sea elf male snarled. "If we choose to, we can sink their ship and drown them all." He glared at Rytagir. "Unless you choose to run."
"Greedy surface dwellers don't run," another male stated.
Rytagir hardened his voice. "There is a ship's mage aboard the vessel. And he has an apprentice. Both of them stand prepared to defend the ship as well. They've sworn their life's blood to do that."
The alu Tel'Quessir knew about ships' mages. Charged with caring for the crew and the ship, all of them knew how to repair minor damage done to the ship and preserve wood, but some of them could quell storms, hurl fireballs, and summon the wind. Others, at least so Rytagir had heard, could call down lightning strikes, summon whirlpools, and raise tidal waves that could smash ships on rocks.
The sea elves had a healthy respect for magic. Still, they could be damn stubborn. Rytagir hoped to make negotiating more attractive to them.
"What bargain would you strike, human?" the female asked.
"I want the salvage from this ship."
"I would not see this ship moved," she replied. "It has become home to many sea creatures."
Rytagir understood the woman's feelings. His father tended to believe, after the same fashion, that change, unless natural, was not a thing to ascribe to. Disruption of an environment was never to be tolerated.
"I've sworn to protect the land and the seas that have been assigned to me," the sea elf woman said.
"I'm not here for the ship," he said. "All I want is the cargo, and the documents if I can find them."
"What would we get in return?" the male asked.
"If you simply allow this, I'll give you ten percent of what we recover."
"Never expect a fair deal from a surface dweller," one of the other elves muttered.
"I'll give a fair deal," Rytagir countered. "But I'm not going to let you rob me. If you help me with the transport of the goods to the ship above, I can make your share thirty percent.''
"So you would want us to be your pack animals?" The male grimaced.
"Let me speak, Rasche," the woman said.
Reluctantly, Rasche backed down.
"We want fifty percent," she told Rytagir.
Rytagir smiled coldly. "We have to transport and arrange payment for salvage. That takes more time and effort. And more investment. We'll take sixty percent. That's as generous as I can be."
"Except you," the sea elf said. "If you find the document you seek, you still stand to make a profit. I know that wizards often pay well for spellbooks, and collectors pay for unique pieces of writing or art."
"Lady, I swear to you by all I hold holy that I'm not here for that kind of profit. I seek only papers and documents that will reveal more of the lost histories of some of the lands around this place."
The maid smiled. "Then I will pray for Deep Sashelas's pleasure that we will all find something worthwhile."
Deep Sashelas was the god of the undersea elves. He was known as the Knowledgeable One and the Master of Dolphins. Many undersea folk, and even some human sailors, worshiped him. Rytagir had a more than passing acquaintance with the altars dedicated to the Dolphin Prince.
He looked into those silver eyes and asked, "May I have your name, Lady?"
"Don't you dare transgress, human!" Rasche said, and shoved his spear toward Rytagir's face.