“You put in place everything upon which I now build,” he said. “Without your long reach, I wouldn’t dare move against Greeth.”

“Suljack appreciates this, as well?”

“Like a starving man viewing a feast at a distant table. He wants a seat at that table. Neither of us will feast without the other.”

“You’re watching him closely, then.”

“Yes.”

Rethnor gave a wheezing laugh.

“And Suljack is too stupid to betray me in a manner that I couldn’t anticipate,” Kensidan added, and Rethnor’s laugh became a quick scowl.

“Kurth is the one to watch, not Suljack,” said Kensidan.

Rethnor considered the words for a few moments, then nodded his agreement. High Captain Kurth, out there on Closeguard Island and so close to the Hosttower, was possibly the strongest of the five high captains, and surely the only one who could stand one-to-one against Ship Rethnor. And Kurth was so very clever, whereas, Rethnor had to admit, his friend Suljack often had to be led to the trough with a carrot.

“Your brother is in Mirabar?” Rethnor asked.

Kensidan nodded. “Fate has been kind to us.”

“No,” Rethnor corrected. “Arklem Greeth has erred. His Mistresses of the South Tower and North Tower both hold vested interests in his planned infiltration and domination of their homeland, interests that are diametrically opposed. Arklem Greeth is too prideful and cocksure to recognize the insecurity of his position—I doubt he understands Arabeth Raurym’s anger.”

“She is aboard Thrice Lucky, seeking Sea Sprite.”

“And Lord Brambleberry awaits Deudermont at Waterdeep,” Rethnor stated, nodding in approval.

Kensidan the Crow allowed a rare smile to crease his emotionless facade. He quickly suppressed it, though, reminding himself of the dangers of pride. Surely, Kensidan had much to be proud of. He was a juggler with many balls in the air, seamlessly and surely spinning their orbits. He was two steps ahead of Arklem Greeth in the east, and facilitating unwitting allies in the south. His considerable investments—bags of gold—had been well spent.