"That was beautiful," Pacys said.

"Aye," Khlinat said, tears glittering in his beard. "I've not had the pleasure of hearing the like before. Ye may be an elf, Elf, but ye have the heart of a dwarf."

Taareen bowed his head in thanks, then glanced up at Pacys. "That was your song, Bard Pacys. The song of the Taleweaver's arrival in Seros."

"You just composed that?" Pacys asked in astonishment.

"No. I've but mean skills, and songcrafting takes me a long time. That song is ancient," Taareen said. "It is one of the few things that was carried from Aryselmalyr when so much of our history was lost."

A feathery chill touched Pacys between the shoulder blades. "How could they know all those years ago?"

"How could they not?" Taareen asked. "The Taker existed thousands of years before that. Knowledge of him has not come to us only recently, as it has to you."

"You said you knew me by my song." The thought troubled Pacys. "Does that mean the song is not new as I thought it to be?" The possibility of him simply rewriting a song that had already been in existence ate at his confidence.

"No, your song is new," Taareen answered simply. "In our stories, it was said the Taleweaver would appear near reclaimed Faenasuor. Imagine the horror of those who lived then who realized that Faenasuor would first have to be lost in order to be reclaimed."

Pacys did, and the weight was staggering.

"When the empire was lost, it was believed that by leaving Faenasuor buried beneath the rubble the Taker wouldn't be allowed to return to the world." Taareen shook his head and his fingers began to pick out a soft, low tune on the yarting. "As if that would seal him in whatever limbo he'd been in."

"They realized in the end it was a false hope at best," Khlinat said.

"Yes, but the Taker wasn't the only reason they left Faenasuor buried. Part of it was because no one wanted to see what had been lost. They didn't want to remember. After a thousand years, the realization that if Faenasuor didn't exist, if the archives that were buried there weren't reclaimed, the Taleweaver would never be able to arrive there."

"But just hearing my song," Pacys said, "that couldn't be the only thing that led you to believe I was the one legend names as Taleweaver."

"Do you have your doubts about who you are?" Taareen asked.

Pacys thought about the question. To answer no was almost egotistical, but to say yes was to acknowledge the possibility existed that Narros had been wrong. The song Taareen played echoed in his head, summoning up images of Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate, and the young sailor he and Khlinat had only just met who'd had such considerable influence on their lives.

"No," he answered finally. "I don't doubt."

"And neither do I," the sea elf said, handing the yarting back across. "In the legends, we were told the Taleweaver could swim beneath the oceans as easily as he strode across the land. It was the only way he could witness all the battles to come. I see that you're a surface dweller."

"I have a gift," Pacys said, extending his arm and displaying the emerald bracelet Narros had given him back in Waterdeep. While wearing the bracelet, Pacys could breathe underwater, never feel the pressure of the depths, and move as easily as he would crossing a room.

"And your friend?"

"Has none," Khlinat growled. "And why would something like that be necessary?"

"Because," Taareen answered, "I must take you to Faenasuor that you may learn the legends of the Taker as we know them. It has been foretold."

Excitement flared through Pacys. If there had been any humans ever to enter the city of Faenasuor, there had been precious few.

"We can take care of your friend," Taareen offered. "Some of the things we trade with the surface world are potions which allow surface dwellers to breathe underwater. It would be our honor to aid you."

"When could we go?" Pacys asked.

Khlinat shifted uneasily, obviously not happy about the thought of visiting an undersea city.

"We can continue on to Starmantle by land,"Taareen said. "I know a man there who deals in such potions. It won't be hard to strike a deal for one. After we are in Faenasuor it won't be a problem to keep your friend well supplied."

"Then let's break camp," Pacys said. "I know I won't be getting any more sleep tonight anyway, and dawn can't be more than an hour away."

He was left with the feeling that time was running out. How much difference did days, weeks, or months make when faced with an opponent who had thousands of years to plan?

XVIII

9 Kythorn, the Year of the Gauntlet

Jherek kept his eyes on Sabyna when they hit the water. Both of them went under at once. The current wasn't overly strong and wasn't a real challenge that would keep them from the riverbank. He knew the ship's mage was a strong swimmer, but the possibility remained that Breezerunner might rip free of the sandbar and become a danger.

Despite the fatigue and dizziness that filled him, he waited underwater until she had her bearings, then followed her up. He broke the river surface little more than an arm's reach from her. "Lady, are you all right?"

"Aye," she replied, blinking water from her eyes. "A little worse for the wear, but I'm holding my own."

Treading water, Jherek glanced around, seeking out Breeze-runner's crew and the pirates. Men scrambled through the water like rats trying to escape drowning. A lot of ship's crews, the young sailor knew, had few men who could swim well, and even a good number of them that couldn't swim at all.

He spotted one man flailing nearly twenty yards away. The young sailor struck out at once, slicing through the water like a fish. He grabbed the man from behind, sliding his arm under his chin. "Lie still," Jherek ordered. "I have you."

The man choked and spat, and clung desperately to Jherek. "Don't let Umberlee take me, lad." He kicked frantically, spitting automatically whenever water touched his chin.

"Save your breath," Jherek advised. Fighting the current and the man was difficult. The young sailor swam backward, pulling the man after him toward the riverbank. In a short time, he could touch bottom. He got the man on his feet, then turned to survey the river again.

"Those that made it are already here," Captain Tynnel said as he walked up to Jherek. "The others washed down the damned river. Maybe well get lucky and they'll make their way back to us by morning, and maybe they'll wash all the way out to the Sea of Swords." He turned on Jherek. "Didn't you see that damned sandbar out there? It's as big as an island."

Jherek looked at Breezerunner tilted over nearly sideways on the huge sandbar. White-capped water rushed around her. From here, the sandbar did look impossible to miss.

"No," he said. "I didn't see it." He knew it was his own ill birth at work again. He had a chance-for a moment-of being the hero, but it had been stripped from his fingers.

"Never sign onto a ship to be a pilot, boy," Tynnel advised coldly. "Takes too long to build a ship for them to be sunk so quickly."

The words bit into Jherek, but he didn't argue. He deserved them.

"It wasn't his fault, Tynnel."

Jherek turned, surprised that Sabyna had approached in his defense.

The captain gave her a dark look and shook his head. "I should have guessed you'd be taking up for him."

"Taking up for him?" Sabyna looked about to explode. "He almost gave his life hanging onto that rudder. Two pirates were practically on top of him when I got there, and he hadn't turned loose of the rudder."

"She's right, Cap'n," Mornis, Breezerunner's first mate, said. "I saw the lad standing there myself. Tried to get to him, but there wasn't anything I could do. If Sabyna hadn't reached him, I think he would have died holding onto that stick."