Free Doom of the Dragon by Margaret Weis Page A

Kahg select a small emerald, badly set and crudely cut, over a large ruby with a heart of fire.
    â€œGive me the jewels,” said Skylan, holding out his hand. “I will find a new hiding place for them and I’ll keep them safe. On my honor as a Vindrasi.”
    â€œI’m not sure I can trust you,” said Joabis, shutting the box.
    â€œThen don’t give them to me,” said Skylan, exasperated. “This was your idea.”
    He turned to walk away.
    â€œNo, stop!” Joabis cried and reluctantly handed Skylan the box, giving it a loving pat as he let it go.
    â€œI’ll need that leather pouch,” Skylan said, pointing.
    â€œIt holds my dice,” Joabis protested.
    â€œI want those, as well.”
    Joabis muttered under his breath, but he handed over the pouch. Skylan emptied the dice onto the deck and poured the jewels into the pouch. He then scooped up the dice and placed those in the box, which he handed back to Joabis.
    â€œLock it and put it back in its hiding place,” he said.
    â€œA good idea,” said Joabis with an attempt at a pleased smile. “Hevis will find it filled with dice, not jewels. I can’t believe I never thought of that. Where will you hide my treasure?”
    Skylan went over to the mast, knelt down at the foot and stuffed the pouch containing the jewels into the hole where the mast fit into the wooden planking.
    Joabis watched with approval, then announced his intention of taking a nap. “I’ve had a fatiguing day. You can tidy up while I rest.”
    Draping the sail over the hull to form a crude awning against the sun, Joabis crawled beneath it, laced his fingers over his chest, and closed his eyes.
    Skylan dragged one of the sea chests into the shadow cast by the dragon-head prow and slumped down, telling himself he’d be damned if he would clean up Joabis’s mess. The sea was flat, the sun blazing, and there was no breath of wind. Skylan sat and sweated, listened to Joabis’s whistling snore and wondered what the god was plotting.
    His claim that Hevis had chopped up barrels and sent dead men running off in a panic, all to steal a handful of jewels, stank like yesterday’s fish.
    â€œHe goes to a great deal of trouble to hide his gems and the next moment, he’s eager to show them to me,” Skylan muttered. “He’s half mad with fear. Even though we’re alone on this ship on an empty sea, he can’t take three steps without looking over his shoulder. And why are my men on his isle? How did they get there? If he isn’t lying about that, as well.”
    Skylan stood up and set to work. He could no longer stand to look at the disorder. He stacked the oars in their proper place, straightened the tangled wad of fishnet, and began repacking and righting the overturned sea chests. He was still working at this when Joabis sat bolt upright.
    â€œVoices!” he gasped, peering about. “I heard voices! Did you hear them?”
    Skylan shook his head. “You must have been dreaming. There’s nothing between us and the horizon. Not so much as bird.”
    â€œI tell you I heard someone talking!” Joabis said nervously. Rolling over, he managed to haul himself to his feet and went to stare into the sea.
    A wave rose up and slapped him in the face. Joabis gasped and sputtered, wiping water from his eyes and swearing. From somewhere below the keel came the sound of merry laughter.
    Sklyan grinned.
    â€œRelax,” he told Joabis. “The voices you’re hearing belong to oceanids, the fae folk who live in the sea. They’re annoying, but not dangerous.”
    â€œWhat do they want?” Joabis asked, still trembling. “Talk to them. Tell them to go away!”
    â€œYou tell them,” said Skylan. “You’re a god. I don’t know them.”
    â€œThey know you,” said Joabis. “They’re calling your name!”
    â€œImpossible.