"Oh gods," breathed Anusha. They had come close enough that she saw a shape frozen in the ice. A little boy looked back at her with wide, blue eyes.

Then they passed through the opening into a new space damp with a fetid, oily stink.

Aboleths pressed around the hole, leering at them with too many red eyes and reaching tentacles. Anusha swallowed a cry of alarm. Her arm jerked as the imagined rope snapped them another twenty feet upward in only a moment. Her head spun, and she lost her bearings. She kicked her legs, unconsciously looking for purchase, but she did not let go of Yeva or her imagined lifeline.

Nothing immediately attacked. Anusha got control of her breathing. They dangled thirty or so feet below a sl ick ceiling of rough stone. She turned and stared at the tableau below, trying to make sense of the scene. Aboleths clustered around the hole from which they'd emerged. The creatures huddled in discrete rows radiating away from the circular gap. The rows contained differing numbers of aboleths, one line had just three, another at least twenty.

Most of the aboleths had bluish backsides the color of darkened bruises, with reddish underbellies. Some claimed distinct colorations from their brethren, and of these, some were noticeably smaller than average, others larger.

All possessed too many red eyes, and all voiced a screeching, chantlike rumble that wove through the air like a swarm of blood-seeking insects. She hadn't heard the sound from below. Had they just started? None of the creatures seemed to be looking up at her or Yeva dangling above them.

Four of the rows convulsed. A ripple of movement pushed four creatures from their perch on the hole's edge.

They dropped, tentacles flailing, like stones into a well, into the orrery chamber.

"Those four—did you see their color?" Yeva said, loudly enough to be heard over the vocalizations. "Green, black, and two blue-red. Like the globes just born below. It means something. The symbols, the colors... I think these beasts are conferring on themselves the power of flight!"

Before Anusha could comment, something moved to her right.

Ari aboleth hovered just ten feet from her and Yeva. It was the mottled quartz one with five eyes they'd seen below, rasping a newborn orb with its toothed tongue. Four of its eyes roved around, searching. But one was focused directly upon Anusha.

The creature loosed a questioning tone like the chirp of a curious crow. Simultaneously, a voice devoid of personality echoed in Anusha's head, Is it of the body? Is it of Xxiphu? Is it benign? Is it a parasite? What is it?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Year of the Secret (1396 DR) Green Siren on the Sea of Fallen Stars

Thoster stood at the wheel watching his crew take Green Siren out to sea. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his stance was one of stern attention. The crew dallied less when the captain's eyes were on them.

But his mind was on Seren. The wizard had always been trouble. He'd just never realized how much. A price on her head, set by Thay itself. He wondered what the amount had grown to.

Not that he was tempted to collect on it himself. Anyone foolish enough to claim a fee from Szass Tam deserved whatever he got. No, he worried about the attention Seren's presence drew to his ship. Attention a whole lot more dangerous than he'd have knowingly risked.

"Course, the damage is already done," he muttered. Morgenthel knew Seren was on GreenSiren, knew Thoster's name, and knew the wizard had protectors. He wondered how closely Morgenthel and Thay were actually entwined. Hopefully, the man was merely a bounty hunter who talked big. Such things were possible.

Were he in Morgenthel's shoes, Thoster would claim more familiarity with Thay's rulers than was strictly true.

Seren was back on deck, checking the integrity of her chalk-scribed circle. The woman seemed intent on continuing her employment with the half-elf. He'd always assumed the woman's desire for gold was purely mercenary. Apparently, she hoped to purchase back her life.

He wondered what it would take to purchase back his own.

"Mtuo'san!" Thoster called to the first mate. A woman with a long silver braid looked up from berating a crew member. "I'm going below. Keep on eye on things."

"Aye, Cap'n!" she said.

Mharsan had stepped into the role of Green Siren's first mate after the previous one met a bloody end below Gethshemeth's isle. She was competent, though just as taken with rum as her predecessor.

Thoster walked down the aftcastle stair and saw Raidon. The monk sat propped against the mainmast, his legs crossed and his eyes blank as glass marbles. He didn't seem actively worried about Seren's revelation. 'Course, who could tell with the half-elf? The captain suspected the spellscarred man wasn't right in the head.

It seemed everyone aboard was damaged in some way. Perhaps Thoster most of all.

He made his way to where their prize slept. The captain's dog lay outside the cabin. Blackie let no one approach other than himself, Raidon, and Seren.

He patted the dog on the head in return for a lick, then entered Anusha's cabin. It was the very room Japheth had hid the woman in during their first sea crossing. He chuckled to recall how the warlock hinted at gorgon hearts within to dissuade visitors. Thoster played along with the warlock's game because it was amusing to do so. At the time, he hadn't realized what was at stake.

The captain looked down on the woman. She was gaunt and possibly ill. Some sort of enchantment kept her fed and limber, or she'd have died long before. But it was obviously no replacement for the real thing. Even Thoster could see that if she didn't wake and resume eating and moving soon, she'd die.

"Your mind's trapped in the relic, eh?" Thoster said, his voice quiet.

The relic. He shook his head. Most days, he tried not to think about it. It was too confusing, and it made his stomach sour. The Dreamheart had more than one claim on him, and until he had it in his own two hands, he'd decided not to choose which he'd satisfy.

That wasn't something he'd advertised to Raidon.

Thoster lowered himself onto the cot next to Anusha's open travel chest. She didn't move, save for her continual shallow breathing. The perfect listener.

"The time to decide is nearly upon me, ain't it?" he asked her. "Maybe what I'll do about the relic does bear thinking on, just a bit, since I have your ear."

The captain produced a pipe and a miniature coal urn from a pocket of his coat. He filled the bowl with a sweetsmelling pinch of tobacco and lit it with an ember. He thought better with a little smoke in the air.

"So, here's where I stand, ghost. First,"—he ticked up one finger—"I told Behroun I'd retrieve the trinket for him. 'Course, that was before I knew what it was. Still, Behroun paid me a good sum, and apart from occasional piracy against merchantmen out of Amn, I count myself an honorable sort. Helps the reputation too." He chuckled.

"Second,"—another finger joined the first—"I told Raidon I was done with Behroun and would help find the relic so we could smash it to flinders. I didn't say those words lightly. Well, not too lightly. I don't want to see monsters raised out of the Sea of Fallen Stars. What sane privateer would?

"Lastly, and most importantly." A third finger. "What of my own need? For all my yarns about my misbegotten sire, I'm beginning to worry. If I claim the relic for myself, I might be able learn the truth about my... condition.

Every year the changes grow worse."

The captain pulled back one coat sleeve to reveal his left forearm. Half the skin had sloughed away, revealing glossy green scales no different from a fish's. It sickened him to look at it, yet he could hardly pull his gaze away. And this was not the largest patch afflicting him. All his self-deprecating jokes paled before the underlying truth.