Read Gary Gygax - Dangerous Journeys 3 - Death in Delhi for Free Online

who was now dead. Rachelle, however, had learned not a little of his art. It was she, not the wizard-priest who went on deck almost immediately after the ship got under way. There Rachelle hummed and sang beneath her breath, so softly that none of the crew noticed what she was doing. They did notice the breeze, a fair wind which sprang up from the northwest and blew steadily. The dhow leaped ahead as its captain had more sails set to catch the favorable air. Inhetep was there to "record" and set up a talisman to then "play back" her singing—its effective sounds, anyway. This he did with a reservoir of magickal energy operating to deliver the required accompanying activator sounds at a pitch inaudible to the human ear.
    "Now you can sleep, and so can I. All that wild Kelltic wailing is enough to deny normal slumber," he added sourly. Setne had not liked the attention Aldriss the bard had paid to Rachelle.
    They spent most of the next few days in their cramped cabin, not wishing to tempt fate, so to speak. Captain Vogalishi and the dozen crewmen he commanded ignored them. All was well. The Blue Cloud made the thousand leagues and more through the Mare Rubine to round Punt in record time for even that swift vessel. Four days sailing time was unheard of. They slipped past every patrol vessel and prowling corsair without being spotted. Vogalishi was ecstatic and looked on his two passengers with a new respect, suspecting rightly that they had something to do with this great good fortune. From that point on, Rachelle felt less exposed and spent more time on deck. Soon after getting through the dangerous straits, the waters grew wilder, the waves high. The Blue Cloud had entered the open ocean. There was yet another two thousand leagues to sail, most of it through the waters called the Yarban Sea, where pirates swarmed and sudden storms threatened.
    The cool air was refreshing, and even the magister managed to accustom himself to the continual rolling of the ship after a couple of days, so he could join Rachelle on deck. The two were there, discussing their plans, when the captain came up to stand before them with arms akimbo, hands on hips, demanding: "Which of you is the weather witch? Tell me now, and get aft. There's a vessel following us. Unless one of you can do something soon, I'll be seeing that swordplay she bragged about," he added, with a glowering look at Rachelle.
    "There's gratitude for you," Rachelle murmured in /Egyptian as Inhetep arose from where he sat with his back braced against the foremast.
    "What did she say?" Vogalishi demanded suspiciously.
    "She reminds you of your good luck to date and suggests you don't concern yourself about pursuers, Captain. She and I will see about the problem in a minute. Excuse us, please." So saying, and without waiting for formal leave, I he magister took Rachelle's arm, and they went to their cabin. "Get your bow and hand me an arrow."
    Rachelle watched as he rummaged in a little box for some powders, mixed them, then poured out some liquid, turning it into a thick paste. He rolled the head of the arrow in that, so that the gluey mixture coated it. Then he breathed upon it and spoke a single word. Next he worked on the other end, laying a minor casting on the shaft and its feathers. "That should do it."
    "How?" Rachelle caught the purpose of the first part of his magick. He had made the arrowhead incendiary, ignitable by a command from him at even so great a distance as a mile, far longer than she could send it flying to strike a target. The casting was a very minor one and impossible to detect in operation in a world full of minor bursts of heka energy at all times. "When the ship coming after us is close enough to be hit with that, their catapults will be in range, their archers too, and maybe even some hedge-magician winging nasty sendings our way."
    "Trust me, my dear. The last little dweomer was a special one I recently developed with you in mind. The cantrip lends