Ruha looked to Captain Fowler. "Why is the wyrm sinking? Shouldn't it float?"

"Aye, it should." A larcenous gleam filled the half-ore's eyes, and he glanced toward the bobbing lanterns atop the stern of the departing caravel. "Unless its belly is filled with foreign gold!"

The Storm Sprite continued to heel, and Ruha shook her head emphatically. "No, Captain Fowler! Cut it free, or you'll sink us!"

"Cut it free?" the half-ore scoffed. "My crew would mutiny!"

"They would prefer losing the treasure to dying, I am sure."

"Don't be," Fowler said. "It takes a lot of gold to sink a dragon. And there's the bounty to think of, too. Cormyr pays a thousand gold for each wyrm head brought to port, and every man gets his share."

"All the gold in the Heartlands will not buy their lives back."

"Aye, but men sell themselves for less every day."

Fowler lifted his chin toward the crew. "If you think they'll forgo their chance to live like kings, you know less about men than you do about the Heartlands."

Ruha studied the men. As Fowler had claimed, their expressions were more greedy than fearful, and despite the Storm Sprite's increasing list, not a single sailor was moving to cut the wyrm free. The cog continued to tip far- ther, until at last the harpoon lines ran vertically from the wales into the water. The heaving sea dunes crashed

over the bow with thunderous force, and the decks sloped so steeply that it was impossible to stand without holding a halyard or shroud. Still, the crew made no move to free the ship.

"What's all this standing about?" Fowler yelled.

"Secure the lines to the anchor windlass and prepare to haul!"

An excited murmur filled the air as the crew leapt to the task with surprising agility, dangling monkeylike from lines and belaying pins. The sea continued to batter the Storm Sprite, spraying white foam over the decks and threatening to capsize her all too often, but it took only a few moments for the men to wrap the lines around the windlass and start winching. Their efficiency did little to soothe Ruha's nerves. In the desert only fools tempted fate, especially for a prize as petty as gold.