In the Claws of the Tiger by James Wyatt Page B

Shubdoolkra.
    “Ah, Janjan,” the sahuagin croaked, mangling Janik’s name as he always did. “Good to see you once.” His accent was thick and his Common terrible. His eyes bulged as he spoke.
    Janik answered in fluent Sahuagin, though he had trouble with some of the clicks and pops of the language. “Seeing you again is like returning to the dark water,” he said formally. He found himself thinking idly that it was almost true, in exactly the opposite way that the sahuagin meant it—talking to Shubdoolkra was a bit like drowning.
    “With meat on one shoulder and gold on the other,” Shubdoolkra responded in kind, and Janik couldn’t help thinking that he was meat in the sahuagin’s eyes. “Are you sailing through Shargon’s Teeth?”
    “I am, and once more I offer tribute to Baron Kushe—” Shubdoolkra’s eyes bulged wider and he spat, cutting Janik off.
    “Do not speak that name!” the sahuagin yelled, causing many nearby patrons to wheel around and stare, expecting a fight. Janik doubted any of them could understand their conversation, but Shubdoolkra’s angry voice sounded horrific. If that weren’t bad enough, the sahuagin’s ear fins stuckout in anger, and the spines on his back pulsed up and down. “The one of whom you speak is dying the thousand deaths in the jaws of the Devourer! Curse his name and curse any who speak it!”
    Janik was taken aback. If Kushek’ka was dead, would that change the usual bargain? The old baron had ruled his village peacefully, negotiating with sailors from Sharn for safe passage through Shargon’s Teeth to Xen’drik. A new baron might take a different attitude toward human sailors, or drive a harder bargain. The violence with which Shubdoolkra had responded to his name suggested that he and his policies were not in favor under the new baron, whoever he was. All the same, Shubdoolkra was here, which suggested that he was still making deals.
    “Curse my ignorance and stupidity,” Janik said carefully, hating the formalities of the language but apparently calming the sahuagin. “Who is the baron of your people?”
    “Baron Yadkoppo governs us with wisdom and strength, as long as it pleases the Devourer that he may do so,” the sahuagin responded.
    “May his reign bring meat to the village,” Janik said with some relief. Shubdoolkra had said, “with wisdom and strength,” which meant another relatively peaceful reign, as opposed to “in strength and slaughter,” which would bode ill for his mission. “I offer tribute, then, to Baron Yadkoppo through his loyal servant Shubdoolkra, and ask the baron’s favor upon my journey.”
    “What tribute do you bring, Janjan?” The sahuagin’s bulging eyes glittered, and Janik watched his long, webbed fingers stretch greedily.
    Better go high, Janik thought. “For the baron’s pleasure, I offer five thousand coins of gold. For his people, I offer onehundred steel tridents and one thousand bolts tipped with steel. For his loyal servant Shubdoolkra, I offer an additional five hundred coins of gold. I hope that my tribute is acceptable to Baron Yadkoppo.” Janik held his breath and kept his eyes away from Shubdoolkra’s, watching the sahuagin’s scaled and webbed fingers scratching idly on the table.
    “Your tribute is acceptable to Baron Yadkoppo,” the sahuagin said, and Janik let his breath out slowly. “When will your ship leave Sharn, Janjan?”
    “We sail with Captain Nashan on
Hope’s Endeavor
, departing from Sharn on the morning of the third day from this one.”
    “Baron Yadkoppo promises that
Hope’s Endeavor
shall not come to harm on its passage through Shargon’s Teeth, in gratitude for the tribute you have promised. If promises be broken, the Devourer will judge.”
    “My thanks, Shubdoolkra.” Janik stood, nodded a bow to the sahuagin, and left the tavern as quickly as he could manage, glad to be out of the crowd. He walked the noisy streets of Cliffside until he could find a skycoach