Free The Halfling’s Gem by R. A. Salvatore

Sprite
for you, and I welcome the added hands—and blades—especially of such veteran adventurers. But I’ve a suspicion that you might be missing our sailing.” He grasped Drizzt’s shoulder to turn him toward the trouble brewing at Wulfgar’s table.
    “Tavern champion and his cronies,” Deudermont explained, “though my bet would be with your friend.”
    “Coin well placed,” Drizzt replied, “but we have no time…”
    Deudermont guided Drizzt’s gaze across to a shadowy corner of the tavern and to four men sitting calmly watching the growing tumult with interest. “The Watch,” Deudermont said. “A fight will cost your friend a night in the dungeons. I cannot hold port!”
    Drizzt searched the tavern, looking for some out. All eyes seemed to be closing in on Wulfgar and the ruffians, eagerly anticipating the fight. The drow realized that if he went to the table now, he would probably ignite the whole thing.

    Bungo thrust his belly forward, inches from Wulfgar’s face, to display a wide belt notched in a hundred places. “Fer every man I beat,” he boasted. “Give me somethin’ to do on my night in jail.” He pointed at a large cut to the side of the buckle. “Killed that one there. Squashed ’is head real good. Cost me five nights.”
    Wulfgar eased his grip, not impressed, but wary now of the potential consequences of his actions. He had a ship to catch.
    “Perhaps it was Bungo I came to see,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
    “Get ’im, then?” growled one of the ruffians.
    Bungo eyed Wulfgar wickedly.” Come lookin’ fer a fight?”
    “Nay, I think not,” Wulfgar retorted. “A fight? Nay, I am but a boy out to see the wide world!”
    Bungo could not hide his confusion. He looked around to his friends, who could only shrug in response.
    “Sit,” Wulfgar offered. Bungo made no move.
    The ruffian behind Wulfgar poked him hard in the shoulder and growled, “What’re ye fer?”
    Wulfgar had to consciously catch his own hand before it shot across and squashed the ruffian’s filthy fingers together. But hehad control now. He leaned closer to the huge leader. “Not to fight; to watch,” he said quietly. “One day, perhaps, I might deem myself worthy to challenge the likes of Bungo, and on that day I will return, for I have no doubt that you will still be the champion of this tavern. But that day is many years away, I fear. I have so much to learn.”
    “Then why’ve ye come?” Bungo demanded, his confidence brimming over. He leaned over Wulfgar, threateningly close.
    “I have come to learn,” Wulfgar replied. “To learn by watching the toughest fighter in Waterdeep. To see how Bungo presents himself and goes about his affairs.”
    Bungo straightened and looked around at his anxious friends, who were leaning nearly to the point of falling over the table. Bungo flashed his toothless grin, customary before he clobbered a challenger, and the ruffians tensed. But then their champion surprised them, slapping Wulfgar hard on the shoulder—the clap of a friend.
    Audible groans issued throughout the tavern as Bungo pulled up a chair to share a drink with the impressive stranger.
    “Get ye gone!” the slob roared at his companions. Their faces twisted in disappointment and confusion, but they did not dare disobey. The one behind Wulfgar poked him again for good measure, then followed the others back to the bar.

    “A wise move,” Deudermont remarked to Drizzt.
    “For both of them,” the drow replied, relaxing against the rail.
    “You have other business in the city?” the captain asked.
    Drizzt shook his head. “No. Get us to the ship,” he said. “I fear that Waterdeep can bring only trouble.”

    A million stars filled the sky that cloudless night. They reached down from the velvety canopy to join with the distant lights of Waterdeep, setting the northern horizon aglow. Wulfgar found Drizzt above decks, sitting quietly in the rolling serenity