Maquesta Kar-Thon

Chapter 13

After snatching only a couple hours of sleep, Maquesta rose before dawn the next day to patrol her ship. She grimaced when she saw the six bodies covered by a tarp, the wounded sailors who had not pulled through during the night. They occupied a section of the main deck near the stern, and she planned to give a brief service for them shortly after full light. She sighed sadly. One of them was the young sailor who had gotten seasick during the race. She made a mental note to search his belongings and discover where his parents lived. They deserved a letter at least.

She bowed her head, thinking that each of the men had deserved better than to die at the hands of Mandracore's pirates. Then she cursed herself. These six men were dead because of her desire to help one man-her father. Had she traded their lives for his? And would Lendle and Fritzen trade their lives, too? What price was she willing to pay?

But to turn back now would mean the dead had sacrificed themselves for nothing, she thought. Maq mulled the possibilities over in her troubled mind as she walked toward the armory.

Aside from the personal loss Maquesta felt, losing the six sailors meant the Perechon would be dangerously undermanned for the rest of the voyage. Though not as undermanned as the Butcher, she thought with some satisfaction. Many others among the Perechon's crew had suffered injuries in the fight, but those were relatively minor wounds-cuts and bruises mostly. Those sailors were resting in their hammocks, and Ilyatha, who had briefly tended to them, said they would be up and about in time for their duties later today.

The shadowperson also had tended to Lendle. The gnome's wound must have been grievous, for Ilyatha had hovered over him for hours last night. Still, the mysterious telepath declined to tell Maq just how serious-had in fact outright refused to tell Maq, despite her repeated questions. At one point in the evening, he went so far as to order Maquesta out of the makeshift infirmary.

Maquesta paused outside the armory door. She was going to get some answers this morning from Ilyatha. The telepath was going to tell her exactly how Lendle and Fritzen were faring. Taking a deep breath, she threw open the door and rushed in, a lecture already prepared that would get her some information.

"I was busy taking care of your friends last night," Ilyatha said, looking up and sensing her thoughts. "I didn't want to take the time to talk, to explain things, to make you worry about Lendle and Fritzen perhaps more than you should. You needed some sleep. Besides, I wanted time to pass, to see if they might improve on their own."

And…? Maquesta thought, unable to put voice to her fears.

"And Lendle has shown some improvement, though not much. At least he is breathing regularly. He might be up and around in a day or two, but…" The shadowperson's voice trailed off, and he pointed at the gnome. "You must realize that injuries to the head are hard to predict. He could be unconscious for several days, a few weeks perhaps. Maybe longer. And he might not be himself for a while. The head is often more difficult to heal than the rest of the body."

Maquesta's eyes filled as she looked at the gnome, but she steadfastly fought back the tears. "He will be all right? Won't he? Tell me he will be all right."

Ilyatha's reply was soft. "My mind cannot touch his. I cannot sense his thoughts. That is what troubles me. I cannot tell you that he will be all right, simply because I do not know."

Maquesta bit her lip to keep from crying. Captains don't cry, she told herself. Captains aren't weak. "Lendle has to get well, or we will all starve," she said, trying to sound stoic about the gnome's condition. "Hvel and Vartan said they would try their hand at Lendle's eel stew-minus the potatoes. But they're lousy cooks." She stared at Ilyatha and tried to blank her mind. Maq was thinking that she was too young to captain the Perechon, that she couldn't handle life and death matters when they involved people she truly cared about, that she wished her father were here, that she wished Fritz and Lendle would be all right, that she wished she were stronger.

The shadowperson cast Maq a concerned but tired look. He did not respond to her troubled and private thoughts, but instead glided to a chair next to the gnome. He dropped to the thin cushion, stretched, and yawned.

When Maq asked about Fritz, Ilyatha just shook his head. "I am not familiar with sea hag venom, or many other aquatic toxins for that matter," he said sadly. "He is fighting for his life, but I fear he could be waging a losing battle. He worsened during the night. See how pale he is? The poison in his blood is strong."

"Can you sense his thoughts?" Maq asked out of curiosity.

The telepath nodded. "He dreams about his fallen comrades from the Torado-when he is not thinking about you."

Maquesta paced about the armory, looking at Lendle, her long-time friend, and at Fritzen Dorgaard, for whom she had strange and persistent feelings.

Propped up in the chair, the shadow warrior dozed along with his patients. Fritzen and Lendle lay on their backs, both of them breathing shallowly. Maq placed a hand on each forehead; they were hot. Her brow furrowed, and knowing that no one was awake to see her, she finally let the tears come.

Occupied with such bleak thoughts, Maq did not at first hear her name being called. When she did and left the armory to find the source of the voice, she could not see who was calling. The deck was empty.

"Maquesta," the voice continued. "Maquesta!"

Wiping the tears from her face, Maq finally glanced over the side railing. Swimming in the water below, her long hair floating away from her face like a fan, was Tailonna. The sea elf waved and told Maquesta to throw over the rope ladder used to board the longboat. Complying, Maq vacillated between relief at Tailonna's return and irritation at her lengthy absence.

The sea elf quickly climbed the ladder; once above the water the weight of the bulging sea-frond bags she carried strained at her shoulders. Maq made no move to help, but once over the railing, the elf handed her two large bags. Tailonna kept hold of the remaining two smaller ones.

"Carry those to the armory for me, Maquesta," the elf said as she shook herself, the seawater spraying all over-much of it on Maq. "I've brought ocean herbs to cure Fritzen." With that, Tailonna strode toward the armory door, not bothering to see if Maquesta was following.

Maq glanced at the retreating form of the elf and at the sea frond bags dripping water on her deck. Seething with anger over being ordered around, she opened her mouth to offer Tailonna a vicious retort, but thought better of it. The sea elf was going to help Fritzen. The retorts could come after the medicine was administered.

"Lendle!" Tailonna cried in surprise the moment she stepped inside the makeshift infirmary. "What happened to you?"

Ilyatha awoke at the sound of her voice and proceeded to explain to the sea elf all that had transpired while she was gone. Flustered and upset, the elf glided to an empty bench, knelt before it, and started unwrapping the bags, taking out various pieces of kelp, conch shells full of algae, stubby strands of sea grass, unusual-looking oysters, clumps of seaweed, bulbous roots, a six-legged starfish, and more. She placed each item carefully on the bench, making sure nothing touched anything else. "Maquesta, I need my other bags. Over here, and hurry. I must act quickly while my ingredients are still wet and fresh."

Maq dropped the bags at the sea elf's side, then went to stand next to Fritz, her gaze drifting between the half-ogre, Lendle, and Tailonna.

The sea elf opened the larger bags and pulled out fist-sized pieces of rock with tiny, colorful plants growing out of them. Next, she took one of the smaller, empty frond bags, placed her hand inside it to fashion a mitten, then reached inside the larger bags and brought out sea urchins, their sharp, spiny ridges lying limp in the air.

"I need a knife and a bowl," Tailonna continued. "And get me two cups. One each for Lendle and Fritzen. I think I have sufficient material to mix up enough potions to help both of them."

Ilyatha made no move to assist the sea elf, so Maq, huffing with resignation, whirled on her heels. "I'll get them out of the galley."

When she returned-her arms filled with several small bowls, four cups, three knives, a large steel spoon, and a wooden cutting board-Tailonna looked up, offered a slight smile, and indicated where Maq should set the materials.

"I didn't need that much," the sea elf said.

"That's all right," Maquesta replied. "I didn't want to make a second trip." Intrigued at what the sea elf was mixing, Maq pulled a chair next to Ilyatha and sat down to watch. She made no move to hide the animosity she felt toward the haughty Tailonna, and she briefly wondered if the shadowperson felt the same.

The elf used a frond to hold the spines of one of the urchins down, then she brought the knife through the little creature, cutting apart its brittle shell with a sickening cracking sound. Carefully holding the halves over a bowl, she waited until all the liquid-Maq suspected it was the equivalent of blood in a human-ran out. Tailonna did the same with two of the other urchins, then proceeded to mix the bulbous roots in with the liquid. She mumbled a few words Maquesta couldn't understand and waggled her fingers over the bowl. Apparently satisfied with her concoction, Tailonna rose, padded over to Lendle, and opened the gnome's mouth. Putting one hand behind his stubby neck, she tilted his head and poured the mixture down his throat. The gnome involuntarily swallowed most of it, but a good bit ran out of his mouth and down his chin.

"Clean him off, while I work on a poultice for Fritzen," Tailonna directed Maquesta.

Maq gritted her teeth and pushed off from her chair. Finding a small towel, she carefully wiped the thick, smelly liquid off the gnome's face, then strode to the elf.

"What did you give him? And just what will it do?"

Tailonna was busy cutting up pieces of seaweed, soaking them in urchin blood. It was obvious she was going to use all the utensils Maq brought her. "A potion my father taught me to make," she said simply. "It has incredibly strong curative powers. There's a bit of magic about it." The sea elf reached past Maq and selected a couple of the odd-shaped oysters. Prying one open, she pulled out the meat and added it to her mixture, then stirred in some algae. "I'll need a cloth."

Fuming, Maq stomped to a cabinet. Finding no cloths or towels, and realizing the towel she had used on Lendle was the only one in the armory, she took off the sash from around her waist and passed it to the sea elf. "Will this do?"

"I suppose," the elf answered, taking it from her and soaking it in the pungent liquid. Rising, she glided to the half-ogre, sat at his side, and proceeded to wrap the sash around his arm and shoulder. "This will draw out the sea hag poison," she explained. "It should work rather quickly, especially since he has merrow blood in his veins. It is odd that though he is a half-ogre, he looks so human and is so handsome. Merrows are typically an ugly lot. Fritzen was fortunate he inherited none of the merrows' facial features, only their size and strength."

"Does this poultice have a touch of magic, too?" Maquesta asked curtly.

"Of course." The elf went back to her bench and resumed her work.

"Now what are you doing?" Maquesta's tone was demanding, her impatience coming to the fore.

"I want to make an additional healing potion for Fritzen, and I intend to create a stimulant for Lendle. I suppose while I am at it, I should make as many healing potions as possible. You do seem to need them around here." The sea elf turned away from the bench, and her blue-green eyes caught Maq's gaze. "I do know what I am doing, Maquesta. My skills are considerable, and my potions will save them. But I could use some help… if you don't mind."

Ilyatha, whether sensing Maquesta's irritation or genuinely wanting to aid the sea elf, rose from his chair and moved to the bench. "Let me," he offered. "Maquesta has many other things to do on this ship, and many other pressing concerns."

"I have dead to bury," Maq said. Turning, she left the armory, fervently praying that Tailonna's skills and mixtures would be enough to help two people she cared deeply about.

Dawn came to the sea, the sun rising and coloring the water and tinting the sky a rosy pink. With it came sailors to the deck of the Perechon. Koraf took the wheel, and Vartan and Hvel busied themselves with trimming the sails. When enough of the men were gathered, Maquesta walked over to the bodies and pulled the tarp back from their faces. The crew gathered around.

She was nervous, but she tried not to show it. She'd watched her father give final words over sailors before, though never this many bodies at the same time. Now the task was hers.

Facing the rising sun, she ran her fingers absently through her curls, composed herself, then turned to face her crew. She slowly recited the names of the dead men. "These sailors gave their lives for yours, for the Perechon, and for the hope of returning Melas to us. They paid the highest price a sailor could, and we stand here honoring them for their acts of courage." Her voice was strong, and she noticed all eyes were on her. "May Habbakuk, god of the sea and of eternal life beyond the world, watch over them as their spirits embark on a new journey. Now we give our friends and comrades to the water. Let the sea embrace those who loved her dearly."

Koraf blew into a steel whistle, low then high, sharp tunes signaling the end of the brief service. Maquesta padded away from the rails, and the crew set about the business of sending their dead comrades overboard. She heard the splashes behind her as she walked toward her cabin, intent on putting the final touches on her plan to capture the morkoth, and flinched at the finality of the sound.

An hour later a persistent rapping at the door roused Maquesta from her notes. Before she could invite the person inside, the door opened wide, and Tailonna strode in. Her hair was once again artfully wrapped about her head with the small magical nets and decorative seashells in place.

"Where were you?" Maq sputtered. "We needed you."

"I was in the armory, you know that. I was tending to Fritzen and Lendle. I saved them."

"That's not what I mean," Maquesta continued, fuming. "Where did you disappear to for better than a day? You didn't even ask my permission to leave."

"I don't need anyone's permission-" Tailonna began.

"No?" Maq pressed. "I'm the captain of the Perechon, a fact you seem to constantly overlook. Captains give the orders on their ships. It's that simple. And while you're on my ship, you're part of my crew. You follow my orders. Understand?"

Tailonna drew herself up to her full height and regarded Maq coolly. "I was obtaining the necessary herbs to help Fritzen. Fortunately, they are also helping Lendle."

"Where did you have to go for them?" Maq snapped. "Back to Lacynos? If you don't want to be a part of this, Tailonna, you're free to go. Though I would appreciate it if you first made us those potions that will let us breathe water." Maq rose. Hands on her hips, chin raised aggressively, she confronted the sea elf. "I don't think I've ever understood why you agreed to help in the first place. But if you stay with us, remember that you're under my command, and you don't leave again unless you've discussed it with me first!"

The sea elf's eyes darkened, and she returned Maquesta's icy stare. "I am going back to the armory. There, my talents are appreciated. When you can pull yourself away from your plans, feel free to visit us-but only briefly. My patients need rest and quiet." Like a dancer, the sea elf pivoted on the balls of her bare feet and glided out of the cabin.

It was clear to Maquesta that Tailonna didn't enjoy being reprimanded. "Well, I don't like being treated with disrespect," Maq muttered to herself. She glanced at her papers and decided to work on her plans only a little while longer and then go check on her friends. She wanted to see if Tailonna's magical healing could work the wonders the elf claimed.

Tailonna stormed into the armory, angry about being spoken to by Maquesta in such a rude manner.

"Well hello, fair lady," Fritzen offered as a greeting. The half-ogre was sitting up on his cot, his legs crossed under him and a blanket wrapped around his broad shoulders. "I understand from Ilyatha that I have you to thank for my improved state of health."

Tailonna's expression softened at seeing Fritzen. A hint of a blush crept to her face, and she sneaked a glance at the telepath. Ilyatha was hovering over Lendle, seemingly oblivious to her. Smiling, Tailonna glided toward the half-ogre and sat next to him. The sea elf was angry at Maquesta, and a little angry at herself as well, for being attracted to this surface dweller whom she considered a half-breed.

"You're strong," she stated. "I did not think my healing poultice would work so quickly."

"I'm not one to stay down long," he replied. "Bed rest is boring, and I've always believed one mends better by being up and moving around."

"Be careful not to overdo it," she admonished. "The sea hag toxin will be in your blood for quite some time, and any further injuries you suffer could give it a chance to take hold again." Tailonna brought her hand up to his forehead. "You're still a little warm, but there is not much fever left." She let her hand linger there, amused that she found herself captivated by the handsome half-ogre.

Tailonna, Lendle's waking up!

The sea elf heard the words inside her head. Ilyatha's urgings drew her away from Fritzen and over to the gnome's cot. Lendle's eyelids were quivering, and his head rolled slowly back and forth. At last, he opened his eyes and stared up at the shadowperson and sea elf.

"Myheadhurts," he gushed as he tried to push himself into a sitting position. "Someonestophittingmeintheheadwithahammer."

"Stay down." Tailonna's firm voice and even firmer hand on his shoulder kept the gnome in place. "You were seriously hurt. You need to rest."

"I've got to cook breakfast," he said, slowing his speech pattern.

"It is past breakfast," the sea elf scolded. "But if you're hungry, I can have something brought here for you."

Ilyatha backed away from the cot and started toward the armory door. "Maquesta will want to know they are both doing better. I will get her."

"Wait!" the sea elf called. "I really could do without her company for just a little while longer. Besides, she's busy working on her plan to go after the morkoth. She'll stop by later. Let her be for now, and let Fritzen and Lendle enjoy some quiet."

Ilyatha looked at the comely elf. The captain needs to know, he communicated. With that, he bundled his cape about him and pulled the hood over his head until his face was cloaked in shadows. Letting the sleeves fall below his fingertips, and taking a deep breath, he stepped out into the painful morning light.

"I should help Maq with her plans," Fritz announced.

"No!" Tailonna's tone was more of a scolding than a command. "Maquesta is doing fine alone."

The half-ogre looked quizzically at the sea elf. "You don't like her much, do you?"

"I think she oversteps her authority," Tailonna said simply. "She takes on too much responsibility, and she basks in being in charge."

"I think she's a good captain," he replied. "And I think you're too critical of her."

"It is my way. Sea elves are not like surface dwellers. We are disparate, set apart. We look at the world differently. Perhaps our lack of tolerance for others is because we expect so much. We have high standards." She returned to sit next to Fritzen, close enough so her shoulder brushed against his. "Your blood is tinged with the sea, too. You should understand how I feel."

He stared into her blue-green eyes. "I think all good sailors have a hint of saltwater in their blood and in their hearts. And I think you would do well to find it in your heart to afford Maquesta Kar-Thon some respect. I'd say you owe her an apology. She has more burdens on her back than perhaps you will ever know, and I think she is handling them admirably. Besides, I think she is uncommonly tolerant of you. I've served under many captains, and most of them would have thrown you off the ship for insubordination. They would not have put up with your attitude beyond the first day."

Before the sea elf could reply, the door swung open, the light framing a tired and relieved Maquesta. She grinned widely when she saw Fritzen sitting up, but her eyes narrowed when she saw how close Tailonna was sitting to him. Not bothering to say anything, she strode to the gnome's cot and sat on the edge.

"Maquesta Kar-Thon," Lendle said slowly, "I am glad to see you. And I am hungry. What is for lunch?"

"A passable eel stew. Get yourself well-quickly, my old friend. For I do not think my stomach can survive Vartan and Hvel's… masterpieces."

"Where's Ilyatha? He's been very good to me. I want to thank him for making me well."

Behind Maquesta, the sea elf opened her mouth to correct the gnome, to take credit for his recovery, but a stern look from Fritzen cut her off.

"Ilyatha's belowdecks," Maq replied. "He's sleeping in the darkness of the cargo hold. He stayed up with you all night. But he said he would come by to visit after sunset."

Maquesta turned to Fritzen and explained she had been planning the raid on the morkoth lair. "I think Belwar will help us, though he is nowhere to be seen today. Ilyatha thinks he is traveling on another plane. We'll discuss the plans tonight, after Ilyatha has rested. Perhaps Belwar will be back by then."

Rising, she nodded to Fritz and Tailonna, then left the armory.

"I'm sorry."

The words startled Maquesta. She was at the wheel, staring at the clouds on the horizon and hoping they did not signal a storm. Turning, she saw the sea elf standing behind her.

"I am not used to being around surface dwellers," Tailonna stated simply. "My way is not your way, and I apologize for not following your instructions. We have no captains under the waves. In my community our elders are wise, but they are few, and the hierarchy of authority is not so well defined. I did not mean to insult you. And I will try to remember to seek your counsel and permission before I act."

Maquesta's mouth fell open in surprise.

"I recognize that you are in charge of this ship," Tailonna continued, "and that you make all the decisions."

"But I frequently ask for advice," Maq said. "I need the knowledge and assistance of all of my crew. And I do appreciate what you've done for Lendle and Fritzen." She saw Tailonna's face brighten when she mentioned the half-ogre, and that bothered her. But she kept those thoughts to herself.

Tailonna reached her hands up into the air and wiggled her webbed fingers, enjoying the breeze. After a moment, the sea elf stepped in front of the wheel, looking between the spokes and into Maquesta's dark eyes.

"When I left the ship to search for herbs and other medicines, I swam to my home community. I learned a lot there, information that should help you-and concern you-in your endeavors to capture the morkoth."

Details about a kuo-toa colony adjacent to the morkoth lair tumbled from the sea elf's lips. 'Though the colony is not allied with the creature, there exists an uneasy truce. The morkoth does not attack the kuo-toa, but neither do they prevent other creatures and animals from swimming into its lair. It is rumored the kuo-toa even make sacrifices to the morkoth. Their numbers are considerable, and to get to the morkoth, you and your group will probably have to go through the kuo-toa.

Maq groaned softly. "Nothing has been easy on this trip," she said, letting down her guard a little and feeling slightly more comfortable in the sea elf's presence. "It seems we're destined to ever be challenged."

"I will do what I can to help you," Tailonna offered. "I have no love for the kuo-toa, nor for their associates, who often capture sea elves and force them into slavery. My people tell me the colony works in concert with another nearby underwater community. It is a village filled with koalinth. They are similar to the hobgoblins that walk the land, but these are aquatic, and evil, perhaps worse than the morkoth and kuo-toa."

"I don't know if I have enough sailors to take on a colony of kuo-toa or the koalinth," Maquesta said thoughtfully. "Perhaps a better tact would be to find a way around them, directly to the morkoth." She noticed the sea elf's dejected expression and decided to offer a compromise. "With the morkoth secured and in Lord Attat's hands, my father will be returned to the ship. Perhaps we could recruit more sailors in Lacynos and come back. With a stronger force, and with your people aiding us, we would fare better in a battle against the creatures."

The sea elf nodded. "Fritzen is right: you are wise. And I have been… perhaps… difficult. To bridge our differences, let me offer you a boon."

Tailonna walked to the rear of the aft deck and retrieved a bucket. Attaching it to a coil of rope, she threw it over the side, let it fill with seawater, and then hauled it up. Carrying the bucket near to Maquesta and the wheel, the elf sat cross-legged on the deck and peered into the water. Taking one of the smaller seashells out of her hair, she gently blew on it, muttered some musical-sounding words, and dropped the shell into the bucket.

"I cast a spell that lets me divine moments in the past," Tailonna said. "Look into the bucket and concentrate. You will see familiar scenes and people familiar, but only the past can be known to you."

"My father?" Maq posed.

"If you concentrate, you can see moments-or years-into the past. It will be as if you were there, reliving whatever you choose to." Tailonna waved her hand over the bucket, and the water shimmered and formed glittering ripples.

Maquesta stared at the ripples and Watched as they smoothed out, revealing Melas's face. Concentrating, The surface of the water rippled again, then smoothed to show the elder Kar-Thon lying in a bed, with a minotaur sage tending him. Out the window of the room, Maq saw herself, Tailonna, Koraf, and Ilyatha leaving the grounds of Attat's palace. The time must have been right after she agreed to Attat's foul mission and shortly after her father had been poisoned. Relieved that her father was receiving the care the minotaur lord had promised, Maq concentrated on a different time period.

Again ripples spread outward from the center of the bucket, and Maquesta saw herself as a young girl with long hair that was braided on the sides of her face. No more than seven or eight, she was scampering along the deck of the Perechon, running precariously close to the edge of the ship. It was a dangerous game she played when no one was looking, but this day it was especially dangerous because the sea was rough and water constantly sprayed up on the deck. Giggling, she ran faster, then she heard herself scream in surprise as one of her feet slipped and shot over the side of the boat. For an instant she felt herself falling, but then the sensation changed, and she was being lifted high into the air. Melas's strong arms rescued her, and he held her close, gently scolding her. The next time the Perechon sailed into a port, Melas had spent every coin he owned to have a railing built around the edge of the deck. It was the same railing that graced the ship today.

Again the scene changed; Maquesta was older, twelve she guessed by the way she was wearing her hair. It was short now, cut like many of the other sailors wore theirs, and her ears showed. But they were no longer pointed, so it didn't matter. Maq was visiting with her father at the wheel. Grinning broadly, he hefted a crate. Setting it behind the wheel with much flourish, he hoisted Maq onto it and put her right hand on the king's spoke.

"Steer the ship!" he commanded her in his rich, booming voice. "Take us toward the bay!"

It was her first solo behind the wheel. Melas nodded to her and strode toward the bow. He was trusting the ship to her, a mere child. He wasn't even watching her. What confidence he must have had. Maquesta felt her heart swell with pride as she relived that glorious moment. But it was so long ago, and the vision was fading now.

Concentrating harder, the ripples appeared to move faster, and the years melted away. This time Maquesta was little more than a baby, and she was being comforted in her mother's arms. Her mother, dressed in voluminous dark clothes to hide her elven nature, was singing a soft tune, trying to get Maq to fall asleep. It was an elvish song about forests, one that Maq had forgotten. But now the melody was playing over and over in her head as she looked up into her mother's eyes and stared at the beautiful, fair face. If elves hadn't been hunted, hadn't been forced to hide from humans in certain parts of the world, Maq's mother wouldn't have had to conceal her true nature.

Maquesta watched herself grow. She saw herself learning to walk, a difficult task for a child on the pitching deck of a ship, and she laughed as she tried to put everything remotely edible in her mouth, including her father's maps. Then she saw herself alone on the deck of the Perechon late one night. She couldn't have been older than four. Why would she be out here alone so late? No, Maquesta noticed, peering into the shadows by the capstan. She wasn't alone. Her mother was there. Her mother had carried her here, near the rope ladder that reached over the side of the ship.

"I cannot play this game any longer, sweet Maquesta," she heard her mother say. "I can no longer hide who I am, what I am. I cannot deny my heritage. I love your father, and I love you. But I also care for myself, and I must go to be with my own people-where I will have nothing to hide. You will not see me after this night, my child. But know always that you will ever be in my heart."

Maquesta watched her mother climb over the rope railing. There was a small boat, with two elves in it, waiting for her. One of the elves blew a glittery powder into the air, and Maq coughed as the cloud of it engulfed her. Then she saw the darkness swallow her mother, and she forgot everything that transpired that night. The next morning she saw her father crying, realizing his wife was gone. Melas thought she might have slipped overboard and drowned. Then he worried that someone had come for her during the night and stolen her from him. It was that morning Melas and Lendle cut the tips off Maq's ears, fearing that if someone discovered the little girl was a half-elf she would be spirited away, too.

Maquesta vowed to tell her father what really happened when he was back on the Perechon. He deserved the truth.

"Maquesta?" the sea elf broke Maq's concentration. The ripples faded. The magic was gone. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Maq said. 'Thank you for the vision. I saw my father. He was being cared for when we pulled out of the Lacynos harbor."

Tailonna took the bucket and threw the water over the side of the ship. "I could let you have another water vision tomorrow if you wish."

Maquesta declined. "I think I'll concentrate on the present."

The sea elf smiled. "I'll go back to watch over Fritzen and Lendle now. Fritzen is feeling much better, and I think he needs someone to talk to."

Maquesta was unaccustomed to Tailonna's new politeness, and disturbed that she would be spending more time with Fritz. She shook her head to get the jealous notion out of it. Fritzen is half sea-ogre and would be better off with someone closer tied to the water, she ruefully decided. Trying to focus on something else, she waved to Koraf.

The minotaur was near the capstan, talking with Hvel. He nodded to her and moved quickly across the deck.

"I've been calling you 'Kof'," Maq said. "Perhaps I've been too familiar with you in doing so. I should have asked if you minded. It would have been more polite."

"Mine is an uncommonly difficult name for human tongues," he said, slightly amused. "And I do not object to the familiarity. It makes me feel… accepted."

Maquesta watched as the minotaur clomped back to Hvel. It seemed Kof had found a good friend among the crew. As the two chatted, Maq started humming a soft tune, an elvish one about forests.

Shortly after sunset Maquesta, Ilyatha, Tailonna, and Hvel gathered in the armory. Fritzen was sitting in a chair. Only a thin bandage on his shoulder hinted that he had been wounded. Maq was explaining her plan for trying to bypass the kuo-toa community to reach the nearby morkoth lair. Tailonna drew a map, showing where she thought the colony was, and a likely location for the lair.

"My people suspect the beast lives in this rocky ridge, where it could have constructed tunnels. We cannot be sure, though," she said. "I will make several vials of a potion that lets you breathe water. It will serve you in case it takes a while to find the beast's home."

Ilyatha looked at the sea elf's diagram. "I can use my telepathic abilities to reach out and attempt to locate the morkoth, while at the same time keeping us away from the kuo-toa."

Maquesta stood and nodded to each of her companions. "Then we are decided." They nodded in return. "I, Tailonna, Ilyatha, Kof, and Hvel shall go. Tailonna has volunteered to use her magical nets to capture the kuo-toa."

"MetoometooMaquestaKar-Thon," Lendle was sitting in his cot, excited at the prospect of breathing water and exploring a new realm.

"Not this time, my friend," Maq said sternly.

"What about me?" Fritzen stood and moved his shoulder. "I don't want to miss out on this. And I'm feeling fine."

"We'll see," Maq and Tailonna said practically in unison.