"How did you know it wouldn't attack?" Meelat asked.

Jherek shrugged and said, "I didn't."

"Sails! Sails off the stern!"

Still shaking inside, Jherek turned and gazed back behind the slave ship at the cry from the lookout in the crow's nest. There, against the curve of the ocean's northern horizon, square cut white sails interrupted the Line between smooth blue sky and green water. Judging the set of the sails, the young sailor knew the ship was headed for them.

"Where are we?"

On the other side of the gate they'd used to pass from Tarjanas belly, Laaqueel spread her webbed hands and feet, stopping her descent toward the distant ocean floor. From the deep blue color of the sea around them, the malenti priestess judged they were in Seros's gloom strata, the level of the sea between one hundred fifty and three hundred feet.

"Thuridru," Iakhovas answered without looking at her. He held a gem in his hand that glowed suddenly.

According to her studies of Seros, Thuridru was a mer-folk city along the Turmish coast. Located north of the Xedran Reefs where the ixitxachitl theocracy claimed the Six Holy Cities, Thuridru held a precarious position. Trapped near the ixitxachitl nation, Thuridru was also the sworn enemy of Voalidru, the capital city of the merfolk of Eadraal.

The city of rogue merfolk," Laaqueel said.

"What do you know of Thuridru?"

"Little," the malenti admitted.

"Nearly four hundred years ago, there was a territorial skirmish between the mermen and the ixitxachitl nations over kelp beds west of Voalidru. Five war parties from the Clan Kamaar chose to ignore the Laws of Battle that have been in effect since the end of the Ninth War of Seros and attack the ixitxachitl. As a result, Clan Kamaar was banished from Voalidru and driven out to make their homes in the abandoned caverns left by the defeated ixitxachitl." Iakhovas gazed into the distance with a satisfied look.

"What are we doing here?" Laaqueel asked, expecting to be assaulted for her impertinence.

"Ah, little malenti, your impatience truly knows no bounds."

"I would be more effective as your senior high priestess," she said, "if I knew more of what you were doing."

Iakhovas turned his malevolent gaze on her. Even the incomplete golden sphere in his empty socket gleamed. "This war is mine, and it is progressing exactly as I would have it."

"A small group of reinforcements from Vahaxtyl joined

Tarjana's crew this morning," Laaqueel hurried on, ignoring the threat in Iakhovas's voice. "I overheard them arguing among themselves and their brothers in our fleet. They say that your efforts have grown stagnant, that you no longer hold Sekolah's favor."

"You didn't champion me, or the cause I represent?"

"I wouldn't know what to tell them."

"Instruct them to believe. That's where your power lies. If you believe, they will believe."

Laaqueel let the silence between them build.

"Do not cease believing," Iakhovas warned. "That is the only worth you have to me. If you look to your heart, you know that it is the only worth you have to yourself."

"I know." Laaqueel's throat was tight when she spoke.

Without her belief, she was only a hollow shell. The voice she'd heard in her head created tremendous confusion.

"I'm aware of the surviving princes' efforts to undermine my control," Iakhovas said. "Just as I'm aware that the numbers of We Who Eat coming from the Alamber Sea are not as great as I expected after I shattered the Sharks-bane Wall. I also know the Great Whale Bard has drawn a small army of his own to sing a barrier against the passage of more sahuagin."

"Only a few of them fight the magic of the songs," Laaqueel said.

"It will be dealt with, little malenti. In due time." Iakhovas grinned. "For now I conserve my strength and mask my presence. The high mages and the Taleweaver have learned about me. Perhaps they've learned more than they should have-but we will see. Despite everything they have heard, I am more powerful than they can ever possibly imagine."

Laaqueel dropped her gaze from his. Everything he said made sense, and it shamed her that she couldn't see it for herself. She loathed the insecurity that trilled within her, hated the way it took her straight back to the young malenti who knew only fear.

"For now," Iakhovas said, "we must gather our forces. Clan Kamaar will prove providential."

XIII

16 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet

Jherek stood on the bobbing husk that remained of Black Champion and stared at the approaching ship.

"That's a Cormyrean Freesail from the cut of her," Meelat commented.

The privateers sanctioned by the kingdom of Cormyr were tall-masted brigantines crewed by hard men who took their prizes from the pirates they defeated. Most of the Freesails stayed around Suzail and Marsember, with a few others placed around smaller ports, but some of them took charters as trading vessels.

"She's seen us," Meelat said. "We're showing no colors and tied up as we are to this floundering ship, she'll be coming to investigate."

Jherek called to the rest of the salvage crew. The men climbed off Black Champion's corpse and into longboats with the last of their salvaged timber.

At Swamp Rose's side, Jherek and his crew shoved the planks into the waiting net, then held onto the net's sides as it was hauled up. The boom arm swung over amidships, cascading water across the tilted deck. The young sailor dropped to the deck and trotted back to the stern castle to join Azla.

The pirate captain stood with a spyglass in the ship's bow. "She's coming toward us. What was that thing in the water?"

"Meelat said it was a sea wyrm."

"I thought you were a dead man."

Jherek looked at the approaching ship, noting the ballistae and the number of men apparent on the decks. "She's rigged for war."

"King Azoun may see the release of the sahuagin from behind the Sharksbane Wall as a chance to further his own empire building. I wouldn't put it past Azoun to give the Freesails orders to bring in any suspect ships so they can be pressed into service." At the bottom of the stern castle stairs, Azla strode across the deck. "Tomas," she said, "your axe."

The pirate tossed the single-bitted axe through the air and Azla caught it easily. Pirates emptied the net attached to the boom arm, stacking the salvaged lumber. The ship's mages had magically straightened warped timbers and planks as they'd been recovered.

"All hands on deck," Azla roared.

The command was relayed instantly in loud bellows by the first mate. Men scrambled to the deck.

"Put some sail up on that mast," she said. "I want to be making some kind of speed by the time those Cormyrean dogs get here, and one mast'll have to do."

The pirates mustered out smartly, their ranks actually overfull from taking on men who were slaves only a few days ago.

Azla looked out at where Black Champion rolled, nearly submerged beneath the waves. "Umberlee take me for a sentimental fool," she whispered. A tear shone in her eye.

Jherek felt the woman's pain. Azla had lived aboard her ship for years. Since she was rarely on land, the young sailor realized that everything she'd cared about was on that ship.

Abruptly, Azla raised the axe and brought it down again and again, severing the ropes that held the shipwreck to Swamp Rose. As the ropes separated, the slave ship righted itself and Black Champion drifted further beneath the waves.

Glancing back at the deck, Jherek saw that several of the pirates held their hats in their hands. They'd shed blood aboard that vessel, dreamed quiet dreams, ridden out harsh storms, and learned to become one.