Filled with tense doubt, Jherek closed his eyes. The moaning continued to echo around him, faint and distant. He couldn't guess in what direction it truly lay.

He shook his head and said, "It doesn't help."

"That's because you're still listening with your ears," Tarnar said patiently. "Listen with your heart, Jherek, not your head, not your body. Breathe out slowly. Relax."

Jherek exhaled, concentrating on the sound.

"Your heart," Tarnar said, "not your ears. You're still trying to listen with your ears."

"I can't do it," Jherek whispered hoarsely.

"You can," Tarnar told him. "Think of some other place, some other time. Get some distance between here and now. Think of a place you like to go. One that has no bad memories, no pressure."

With difficulty, Jherek imagined Madame Iitaar's house at the top of Widow's Hill in Velen. He remembered the trails he'd raced up and down while working at the shipwright's shop and living with Madame Iitaar.

Breathing out, he recalled the cool breeze that lingered under the apple tree where he'd often stood and watched the ships out in Velen's harbor. He'd spent hours there, hungering after the opportunity to put to sea again. Out in the harbor, he watched Butterfly pull out of port, her sails popped full of a favoring wind, knowing that he had Finaren's promise that the next time she sailed he'd be part of her crew.

Whale friend. The voice in Jherek's mind was rusty with fatigue. You must come as quickly as you can. Time grows short. The Taker moves more swiftly than our legends foretold. He is already on his way.

Who are you? Jherek knew the voice wasn't the one that had been with him for the last fourteen years of his life. This wasn't the voice that told him time and time again, "Live, that you may serve."

I am called Song Who Brings Bright Rains.

What do you want?

Only to do that which I have been given to do, Jherek Whalefriend. As we all must. The voice sounded weaker, farther away, like a light growing dim in a long corridor.

You are not the one who has talked to me before.

No. I am but a piece of the tapestry that is your destiny. Another's hand has wrought it.

Who's hand?

That is not for me to say, Jherek Whalefriend. It is not yet the time of choosing. Follow, and may all your songs be strong.

When the communication ended, Jherek opened his eyes. The wind blew cold over the perspiration that covered him. He stared hard into the darkness.

"Do you know the direction?" Tarnar asked.

"East," the young sailor replied. "We need to adjust four points to starboard." He felt the direction like a compass needle.

"Make it so," Tarnar told the mate.

As soon as Steadfast came about on her new course, the sensation within Jherek's breast felt a little stronger.

"How far is our destination?" Tarnar asked.

"I don't know."

The captain hesitated, picking up the small lantern near the plotting desk beside the wheel. He glanced at the compass, traced a map with his finger, and said, "If we stay on this course, we're going to end up in the middle of the Alamber Sea."

"When?"

"By the day after tomorrow. That's the very heart of the sea devils' empire. I can't ask these men to go there, and I won't order them to."

"I understand," Jherek replied. "If the time comes that you're faced with that, I'll go on alone."

Grim-faced, Tarnar folded his map and put it away. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"There is another problem," Jherek said. "I was told we're not the only ones headed this way."

"Told?" For the first time, doubt showed on Tarnar's face. "Who told you this?"

"The whale who sings," Jherek replied.

The young sailor noticed the look the mate swapped with his captain and chose not to respond to it.

"Who else is supposed to be coming?" Tarnar asked.

"The Taker," Jherek said.

Confusion lit Tarnar's face in the glare from the small lantern he held. "Do you know what the Taker is?"

While Azla pursued Vurgrom, mention had been made of the Taker. In fact, some of the people the pirate captain questioned suggested that Vurgrom was somehow in league with this mythological terror.

"A story," the young sailor said. "I've heard a few legends about the Taker."

"And what if this thing is real?"

The possibility seemed overwhelming to Jherek. His life was troubled enough.

"How could the Taker be real?" he asked. "The Taker is a legend. No one has ever seen him."

"If you have spoken to a whale," Tarnar said, "then you know someone must have. Whales never lie."

XVI

2 Eleasias, the Year of the Gauntlet

Follow me more closely, little malenti, Iakhovas ordered as they swam through the currents around Vahaxtyl. I would not have the princes know we are divided in any way.

Laaqueel obeyed reluctantly, drawing two feet closer to Iakhovas. The sahuagin princes of Aleaxtis had sent warriors to escort them from Tarjana. The great galley sat at anchor above the ruined city. All around them, the whale song echoed.

No one in the sahuagin city seemed happy to see Iakhovas return.

How easily they forget, Iakhovas commented as they swam to the amphitheater. During their absence, the princes ordered the amphitheater cleared so meetings could once again be held there.

Crews of sahuagin women and children still labored to clear the city of debris, but Laaqueel knew the area would never be fit to live in again. Black chunks, shelves, and mountains of cooled lava covered the place where the city had once been. Here and there were pockets, mostly intact, that left a few landmarks to distinguish where proud

Vahaxtyl once stood. Warriors stood guard and foraged for food to feed the populace.

The ringed seats around the amphitheater were only a quarter full but there were still thousands seated. The three surviving sahuagin princes stood in the center of the mosaic of black and gray stones. Fully four dozen guardsmen flanked them, outnumbering the warriors Iakhovas had brought four to one.

Iakhovas sank easily before the princes and stood to his full height.

As the malenti priestess gazed around, she saw that the princes were accompanied by their priestesses as well. Evidently it was hoped that all of their combined power might stand against Iakhovas's might.

Panic sailed through Laaqueel as she looked at the full-blooded sahuagin priestesses. They stood in stark contrast to Laaqueel.

Relax, the feminine voice whispered in her mind. Make no untoward moves. For now, let Iakhovas have his way.

Laaqueel glanced at Iakhovas, but his attention was on the princes.

"Honored Ones," Iakhovas addressed them. His voice boomed, carrying easily throughout the amphitheater.

Ruubuuiz, as most senior among the three princes, strode forward. He planted his webbed feet flat on the amphitheater floor and held his trident beside him. The prince wore his best combat harness, adorned with sigils representing Sekolah as well as his own station. Made of soft gold and adorned with finger bones taken from enemies as well as bits of fire coral, his crown gleamed.

"You have journeyed safely," Ruubuuiz stated.

"I have journeyed on a true sahuagin warrior's path," Iakhovas countered with a warning edge in his voice. "I have left broken enemies in my wake, feasted upon them that I might maintain my strength, eaten of my fallen brothers that they might forever stay with me, and created currents that will send all of our enemies cringing in fear."

Ruubuuiz shifted uncertainly.

"I came back here," Iakhovas roared, "to lead the army you were supposed to have readied in my absence. Instead, I find you and your people grubbing around the corpse of this city long after the marrow is gone."