Realms of the Deep

THE CRYSTAL REEF

8 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet

The isle lay well west of Tharsult. It was a tiny disk of palm-covered sand raked by hot subtropical breezes, barely a harpoon throw across and two hundred miles from the nearest shipping lane. Its single spring produced only one cask of fresh water a day. There were no fruit trees or meat animals to provide provisions on a long voyage, nor any sheltered bays or secret lagoons in which to hide pirate ships. The oyster beds never produced pearls. The island's sole treasure was a delicate ring of coral known as the Crystal Reef, a stony garden of twisted fingers and intertwined spikes whose entire value lay in the dazzling beauty of its thousand luminous colors.

So when the reef giant Tanetoa awoke one morning to find a fleet of war carracks anchored offshore, he did not know what to think. There were eight of them, with ballistae on their forecastles, catapults on their after-decks, and archers standing watch in their crow's nests. Their sails were furled and secure, their decks were crammed with landing skiffs and supply casks, and their hulls sat low in the water. Warriors stood fore and aft, armored in helmets and breastplates, staring at the Crystal Reef with eyes wide and mouths gaping.

Tanetoa called his wife to the hut window and asked, "Kani, what is that fleet doing here?"

Kani stared out the window for a long time. At just over two hundred years of age, she was still young for a reef giant, with a svelte figure, long ivory hair, and copper-colored skin. She was as beautiful as the Crystal Reef and as tranquil as the Shining Sea. Like Tanetoa himself, she much preferred the sound of the rolling surf to that of her own voice.

When Kani finally replied, her tone was mocking. "They must be pirates come to rob us of our treasure." She waved at the one room hut, which contained a palm-frond bed, a giant conch shell, a table, two sturdy chairs, and not much else. "I fear you must swim out and sink their ships, my courageous husband."

Tanetoa gave her a sidelong look. "You are sure you didn't call them to take you away?"

"From all this?" Kani gave a short laugh, then touched Tanetoa's elbow with genuine affection. "You know better. I'm afraid you'll just have to go out there and ask them what they want."

Tanetoa cast a wary glance at the carracks' ballistae. He was the type of giant who much preferred peaceful isolation to trafficking with humans, especially when those humans came heavily armed. Still, they appeared to have every intention of staying, and that meant he would have to deal with them sooner or later.

He sighed. "If I must."

"It's probably nothing." Kani patted him lightly on the shoulder. "Invite one back to have a look at the island. They'll leave soon enough after that."

"A good thought," agreed Tanetoa.

He stepped through the door into the golden sunlight. On the ships, warriors scurried along the gunwales, shouting to each other and pointing in Tanetoa's direction. Crewmen began to appear behind the ballis-tae, loading tree-sized harpoons into the weapons and ratcheting tension into the firing skeins.

"Wonderful." Tanetoa raised a hand and waved, hoping human eyes were acute enough to see his smile. "This is going well."

"Don't look frightened," Kani advised from the doorway. "Act like a giant, and you'll be fine."

"Right. I'll strike fear in their hearts if it kills me."

Tanetoa lowered his arm and stepped down to the beach, then waded out into the shallow lagoon between the shore and the Crystal Reef. Alarm bells began to clang on the ships, and the tall masts swayed back and forth as men rushed to their battle stations. Tanetoa wondered if it would be wiser to wait for the humans to send an envoy to him, but they would undoubtedly approach in boats, which would scrape long furrows into the reef and kill whole swaths of delicate coral.

When the water reached his chest, Tanetoa took a deep breath and dived. The lagoon floor was sandy and flat, littered with orange clams and rosy conches. A

school of blue tang flashed past, herded along by the snapping jaws of a hungry barracuda, and a red-tinged jellyfish drifted by in a mass of fluttering membrane. As he neared the reef, thickets of jewel-colored staghorn coral rose from the bottom, filling the water with a luminous garden of tangled scarlet branches and sapphire starbursts. The giant swam closer to the surface now, so he would not brush any of the delicate formations and break them off. The coral was a living thing, and even the slightest damage could take centuries to repair.

Eventually, the luminous garden grew so tall and tangled it formed an impenetrable wall of color and motion. There were dozens of different corals: pink staghorn and golden elkhorn, diaphanous finger coral and tiger-striped fan, contorted spheres of brain coral, sweeping sheets of queen's lace, and more than even Tanetoa could name. Hiding among the corals were hundred-tentacled anemones, furtive clown fish, sponges of every shape and form-a profusion of different creatures that looked more like plants than animals.

Tanetoa swam along bare inches above the coral. Finally, he began to feel the rise and fall of the waves breaking over the reef. He entered a narrow, winding channel. Alongside him, the coral thickened into a solid mass, reaching the water's surface and forming a broad flat of dead, rocklike reef that served as a breakwater for the lagoon. It was the only ugly part of the reef, but one that teemed with crabs, starfish, and three-foot sea cucumbers.

Tanetoa reached the end of the channel and struck out into the open sea. The warships were anchored less than two hundred yards away. As he approached, the sound of alarm bells and screaming voices echoed across the water all the more loudly. He tried to take comfort in their fear, though he knew it was also their fear that made them swing their ballistae in his direction.

Tanetoa swam to the largest of the ships, stopping twenty yards off her starboard side so the sailors would not think he meant any harm.

"Ahoy, little people!" He waved his hand, which caused a great rustling among the men and prompted the flaunting of several dozen harpoons. Tanetoa scowled at the display of weapons. "There is no need to be frightened. I come in peace."

A bearded man in a white turban stepped forward and stood between two harpooners. "Then you declare for us?"

"Declare?"

"Declare your side." The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then motioned the ballistae crews to stand ready. "In the war. Surely, you know about the war?"

"I have heard the whales sing of it," Tanetoa answered, "but this is not my war."

"Of course it is," the man retorted. "This war is everybody's war. Now, where do you stand?"

Tanetoa considered this, then shrugged. "What are my choices?"

The man scowled. "You dare mock an officer of the caleph's fleet?"

Tanetoa started to apologize, then remembered he was a giant and clenched his jaw. He kicked his feet, raising himself high enough to display his mighty shoulders and chest. "Do you speak of the Caleph of Najron?"

The officer paled and could not help retreating a step. "The very one, may the One grant him all blessings."

"And where does the caleph stand?"

"On the side of j-justice and honor, uh, of course," answered the officer.

"On the side of justice and honor," Tanetoa repeated, trying to disguise his disbelief. He had heard the whales sing of this Caleph of Najron and knew the man to be a Cyric-worshiping blackguard who thought nothing of pouring his city's filth into the sea. "Truly?"

"Truly," answered the officer.

Considering the ships and their ballistae, Tanetoa decided a diplomatic answer might be best. "I have always favored justice and honor."

The officer smiled, displaying a huge gold tooth, and spread his arms magnanimously. "Then we are allies!"

"If you stand on the side of justice and honor," Tanetoa answered carefully. He touched a hand to his breast. "I am Tanetoa of the Reef."

The crowd at the rail parted, and a new man in a golden turban stepped forward. Like the first, he had a long black beard, but his face was much more stern, more hawkish.

"And I am the emir Bahal yn Nadir, Admiral of the caleph's fleet." The newcomer gestured with a bejew-eled hand, and the harpooners lowered their weapons. "I have come to occupy your island in the name of the caleph."

"Occupy it?" Tanetoa glanced around at the eight carracks, trying to guess how many hundreds of men they held. "The island can barely sustain my wife and me."

"We have brought supplies," said the emir.

Tanetoa eyed the overburdened ships, trying to imagine the humans ferrying tons of casks and chests through the winding channel into the lagoon. There would be accidents-and even if there were not, the mere presence of so many humans would poison the reef. Tanetoa shook his head vigorously.

"No. It will be bad for the reef."

"The reef?" The emir scowled, clearly confused. "What does a reef matter? We are at war!"

"This is the Crystal Reef," Tanetoa explained. There is no other like it in the Shining Sea."

The emir looked unimpressed. "And?"

"And its death would be a great loss to the world." Tanetoa spoke in a stern voice. "I have sworn to protect it."

The emir surprised him with a broad smile. "Then you should be glad for our presence. That is the very reason the caleph sent us-to protect this island."

"Protect it from what?"

"From the Enemy Beneath, of course," the emir replied. "Already, the sahuagin and their allies have raided Waterdeep, Baldur's Gate, and many other places along the Sword Coast."

"But Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate are wealthy places," said Tanetoa. "So the whales tell me."

The emir's brow rose. "The whales tell you?"

"We sing to each other," Tanetoa explained. "They tell me the sahuagin are stealing human treasure."

"The whales tell you correctly." The emir and his officer exchanged meaningful glances. "What else do they tell you?"

"Only that the war is spreading," said Tanetoa. "But what could the sahuagin want from my island? Those other places have things worth stealing. My island is too poor to even have a name. Let me take you ashore, and you will see there is nothing here for them to steal."

The offer seemed to take the emir aback. He glanced at his officers nervously, then shook his head. "Your island's poverty is of no consequence. The caleph has commanded me to protect it."

"Yes, so you have said. But why?"

"It is not for me to question the caleph's wisdom," said the emir. "It is enough that he has commanded it. We will come ashore with the next high tide. Make ready for us."

"And if I do not?" asked Tanetoa.

"As the caleph's ally, you have no choice." The emir glanced at his ballistae, which remained trained on Tanetoa. "We must all sacrifice for the war."

Tanetoa swam forward, crossing the last twenty yards to the ship in three quick strokes. The ballistae crews cursed and scrambled to bring their weapons to bear, but Tanetoa pretended not to notice. He reached up and grabbed the gunwale, hauling himself up to stare at the emir eye-to-eye. The ship listed steeply in his direction, sweeping a handful of men off their feet and drawing several muffled booms from the cargo holds.

The emir gasped and stumbled back, motioning a dozen harpooners forward.

Tanetoa ignored the warriors. "We will talk again before the tide, but I warn you not to cross the reef without my consent. The rocks are very sharp, and the smell of blood in the water will attract hungry sharks."

The color returned to the emir's face, and he straightened his robe. "Of course. The caleph thanks you for your counsel."

"He is most welcome."

Tanetoa released the gunwale quickly, intentionally allowing the ship to rock back violently, then slipped beneath the waves and dived toward the bottom. It was not that he feared being harpooned; he simply wanted the emir to know he could come up beneath the fleet without exposing himself to attack. He swam deep underwater to the luminous, clifflike wall of the seaward reef, then slowly ascended toward the narrow channel that led into his lagoon.

As Tanetoa approached the surface, he was astonished to see a long stream of yellow figures gliding into the mouth of the passage. At first, he thought they might be a school of yellow-bellied snappers invading the lagoon in pursuit of a sumptuous meal, but he soon saw that could not be. The figures were far larger than most snappers, stretching to a uniform length just shy of that of a human. Moreover, they had fin-footed legs instead of tails and spindly arms instead of pectoral fins, and they were armed with a wide assortment of tridents, crossbows, and wickedly curved sea swords.

When the creatures noticed Tanetoa, a long file peeled off the main school and swirled down to meet him. Their faces were distinctly codlike, with heavy lips, deep glassy eyes, and a single pair of sensor tentacles dangling beneath their chins. They were lo-cathah, a race of nomadic fishmen who sometimes hunted along the reef in pursuit of giant groupers or schools of red jack. Never before had they come in such great numbers.

Tanetoa stopped some twenty feet from the surface and hung alongside the reef in front of a beautiful elephant-ear sponge. The locathah encircled him and began to wave their arms and hand-fins in underwater Common, a complicated language of symbols and currents that allowed creatures with differing vocal capacities to communicate while submerged.

"Greetings, Reefmaster," the locathah said. "Have you hunger?"

Tanetoa spread his webbed fingers and waved his response. "I have fed," he answered. In a world where most species were both predator and prey, the question and reply were polite ways of saying I come in peace. "Greetings, Seawanderers. You come in great numbers. I fear the reef cannot provide for so many."

"We do not come on the hunt," replied the locathah. "Eadro sends us to defend your island from the Enemy Above."

"I have spoken with the Enemy Above," replied Tanetoa. "They have come to protect the island from the Enemy Below."

The locathah's glassy eyes widened. The creature glanced in the direction of the ships and signed, "Then you hunt for them?"

"I do not hunt at all."

"That cannot be," replied the locathah. "This is war. All must hunt."

"No," Tanetoa signed, shaking his head. "A great hunt would be bad for the reef. Humans have magic and the fire that burns in water."

"Have no fear," the locathah assured. "We have Eadro's favor, and we are here to defend the island."

"I do not wish you to defend the island," Tanetoa countered. "There is nothing here to defend, only to destroy."

"It is Eadro's will," the locathah answered.

"But why?" Tanetoa allowed his anger to show in the curtness of his gestures. "What does it matter if humans land on my island?"

"They come in great numbers," the locathah signed. "They will poison the reef."

"And a battle will destroy it," said Tanetoa. "If Eadro cares about the reef, you will leave and let me deal with the humans."

"I did not say Eadro cares about the reef," the locathah countered. "I said only that the humans will poison it, as they poison everything in the water. What Eadro cares about is the Enemy Above. If they want the island, then Eadro does not want them to have it."

"And if they go away?" asked Tanetoa.

"Then there will be no need to defend the island. Can you make the Enemy Above go away?" There was a certain buoyancy in the locathah's gestures that suggested he wanted this as badly as Tanetoa.

"I will try."

Tanetoa ascended to the surface and took a great breath, pausing to look back at the ships. They were just over two hundred yards away, close enough that had the sun been higher in the sky, the lookouts in their crow's nests might have seen the locathah slipping into the channel. As it was, the glare on the water prevented that-which was certainly the only reason the emir had not ordered his men into their skiffs already.

A tiny figure in the bow of the emir's ship waved to Tanetoa. The gesture seemed a nervous one, and the giant dared hope it meant the humans had taken the point of his little display. He returned the wave, then kicked into the channel and followed the great school of locathah into his lagoon.

Kani was waiting on the shore, and Tanetoa swam toward her, heart pounding with fear and anger. Only a few hours remained before high tide, and he could not bear the thought of what the coming battle would do to his reef. The clumsy skiffs would crash about madly, tearing the tops off the corals, and wizards would fire lightning bolts and magic rays at the lo-cathah hiding in the thick cover deeper down. The stunning formations would shatter into luminous sprays of shrapnel or simply die of shock. The reef fish would perish from the explosive concussions and float to the surface in schools. The sponges would burst, the anemones would be blasted flat, and the destruction would not end there. The locathah would capsize the human boats, turning the lagoon into a frothing mass of thrashing blades and flailing tridents that would smash whole swaths of brittle coral. The water would turn scarlet with blood and entrails, and the sharks would come, smashing headlong through the delicate garden in a feeding frenzy that could well do more damage than the battle itself.

The reef would be destroyed, and Tanetoa could not permit that. He had to convince the humans to leave- but how?

As Tanetoa neared the shore, Kani waded out to meet him. "You have spoken with the locathah?"

Tanetoa stood and nodded. "They have come to defend the island."

Kani's gaze shot at once to the warships, and she said nothing.

"The humans are determined to occupy the island for its own protection," Tanetoa said glumly.

Kani furrowed her brow. "They will fight for this island?" She shook her head in amazement. "Why?"

Tanetoa shrugged. "Because their caleph ordered it."

Kani considered this for a moment, then said, "There must be more to it than that. Tell me what they said."

Tanetoa recounted the conversation, relating everything from "declaring sides" to warning the emir against trying to land his forces without Tanetoa's consent. Kani listened carefully, asking for clarification only twice, once regarding the emir's reaction to hearing that Tanetoa could sing with the whales, and the second time regarding the man's reluctance to come ashore alone.

When Tanetoa finished, Kani considered the account for a time, then said, "Whatever his master wants, the emir must be afraid we won't allow it. That's why he refuses to come ashore until he can bring his men."

Tanetoa's eyes went wide. "You think he means to attack us?"

"If we don't give him what he wants."

"How can we?" So overcome with frustration was Tanetoa that the question rumbled from his mouth like a peal of thunder. "He won't tell us what it is!"

Kani spread her palms in a gesture of helplessness. "We will find out at high tide."

Tanetoa remained silent for a moment, then shook his head. "No, we won't. The locathah will attack while the boats are still in the lagoon." He stared across the water at the war fleet. "I must stop the humans from coming."

"How?"

"I don't know. Maybe I can sink their ships."

Kani paled. "Tanetoa, I may not love your island, but I do love you. Attacking the humans is too dangerous."

"I could do it from underneath," he explained. "If I took a sharp boulder — "

"You might sink two or three, but what of their wizards? If it were that easy to destroy an entire fleet, the

Enemy Beneath would not let the humans venture onto the water at all."

"I could ask the locathah for help."

Kani rolled her eyes. "And how would that save the reef? Without their ships, the humans would have no place to go but our island." She paused, then took Tane-toa's hand. "There are other reefs, Tanetoa, on larger islands-with enough wood to build a proper house, and with oyster beds rich in pearls."

Tanetoa pulled his hand away. "But there is only one Crystal Reef. There are corals here that grow in no other part of the sea. If that is not wealth enough-"

"It is more than enough wealth, as long as we are together," said Kani. "But it means nothing without you."

Tanetoa instantly regretted his tone. Kani's sisters all lived on larger islands, in great mansions furnished with elaborate furniture and priceless treasures. But Kani had lived with him on this island, in near poverty, for more than seven decades. The mere fact that she stayed was proof enough of her loyalty.

Tanetoa took his wife's hand. "I'm sorry for speaking harshly. You are not the one who swore to protect this reef. Sometimes I don't know why you stay with me."

"I stay because I love you, and I love you because you are the kind who would guard an island with no pearls." Kani squeezed his hand. "Besides, the reef is the most beautiful one in the Shining Sea. Even my sisters say so."

Tanetoa raised his brow, for he had never heard them speak of anything beautiful except their mansions. "Truly?"

"Would I lie to my husband?" Kani's voice turned from playful to serious. "I don't want to lose you to this war. Promise me that if you cannot persuade the humans to go, you will not be foolish enough to attack them."

"But I must protect the reef."

"You cannot protect the reef if you are dead," Kani said. "Promise, and I will tell you how to stop this battle."

Tanetoa cocked his brow. "You will? Then I promise."

Kani smiled. "You must give them your whale horn."

"My whale horn?" The whale horn was the single treasure Tanetoa's reef had ever yielded, the magic conch shell that allowed him to sing with the whales. "Why would that make them leave?"

"Would not an alliance with the whales benefit the humans?" asked Kani. "You said yourself the emir and his officer exchanged looks when you told them of singing with the whales. Perhaps the horn is the real reason they have come."

"Of course," Tanetoa answered, beginning to feel hopeful. "But if they wanted the whale horn, why not ask for it?"

"Because humans are greedy and cunning," answered Kani. "They feared you would refuse to give it to them and hide the horn where they could not find it. Perhaps they think it is surer to come ashore and steal it before you know what they want."

Tanetoa nodded. "That sounds like the emir." He started toward the hut to retrieve the horn, then stopped short. "But what of the locathah? If the humans want the horn, the locathah will want them not to have it."

Kani considered this, then motioned Tanetoa back into the lagoon. "Swim out past the reef. I will throw the horn out, and you can take it to the ships before the locathah catch you."

Tanetoa eyed the reef. Like all giants, reef giants could hurl boulders a great distance-more than three hundred yards-and it was only two hundred yards to the far side of the reef. It would not be difficult for Kani to throw the conch shell to him.

"Wait until you see me wave," he said. ulf you throw it before I'm ready, I'll have to dive for it, and the lo-cathah might catch up."

"I'll wait." Kani kissed him, then turned to wade ashore. "Remember your promise."

"I remember."

Tanetoa waded into the lagoon, then swam back to the channel, where the locathah were continuing to arrive from the open sea. As he left the passage, several of the creatures stopped below him, and one waved its thin arms in greeting.

"Hail, Reefmaster. Do you go to the humans?"

Tanetoa dived under the water, where the conversation would be hidden from human eyes. "I do." Tanetoa could not tell whether he was speaking with the same locathah as earlier, for they all looked the same to him. "I go to make them leave."

"How can you do that? Humans are stupid creatures who never listen to reason."

"Nothing is truer," agreed Tanetoa, "but I am a giant."

"You will threaten them?"

"If I must," signed Tanetoa.

"Even a giant cannot stand alone against so many," said the locathah. "We will come with you."

Tanetoa shook his head. "No. If the humans do not leave, you will kill more if you attack by surprise."

The locathah considered this, then smacked its lips in the piscine equivalent of a nod. "Eadro's wisdom is on you. We will ready ourselves for the hunt. May you eat and not be eaten."

It was a traditional good wish for anyone about to embark on a dangerous undertaking. Tanetoa responded with the less bellicose wish, "Swim with the currents."

Leaving the locathah to hover, Tanetoa returned to the surface and swam fifty yards toward the ships, then turned back to his island. Kani stood waist deep in the lagoon, holding the giant conch on her shoulder. A beautiful purple-striped shell with a crown of spines at the closed end, it was so large that even both of her large hands could not encircle it.

Tanetoa waved. Kani drew her arms back and hurled the conch. It arced over the reef ten yards in the air, then splashed into the water half a dozen strokes in front of Tanetoa. He swam after the shell, catching up to it as the last of the air left its chambers. He grabbed it by the flange of the opening, then stuck his head underwater and glanced back toward the channel mouth.

The locathah were continuing to stream into the lagoon, though a small party remained clustered just below the mouth of the channel. Their glassy eyes were fixed in his direction, but they showed no sign of being alarmed by the shell in his hand. Tanetoa did not know whether to be relieved or more worried than ever. He swam on the surface the rest of the way to the fleet.

The humans had already begun their landing preparations, having placed several skiffs in the water and started loading them with supplies. As before, they kept their ballistae trained on Tanetoa as he approached, but this time the emir showed himself at the rail as soon as the giant neared the largest carrack.

"Hail, Tanetoa!" said the emir. "I did not expect you to return so soon."

"I have come with a gift for the caleph." Tanetoa displayed the conch.

"Indeed?" The emir eyed the shell briefly, then feigned disinterest and looked back to Tanetoa. "Then you have decided to honor your duties as his ally?"

"There is nothing to be gained by denying him." Tanetoa grabbed the gunwale amidships, then gently pulled himself up and laid the conch on the deck. "This is the whale horn."

The emir and his humans seemed unimpressed. "The whale horn?"

"So you can sing with the whales," Tanetoa explained.

This drew a chorus of snickers from the crew, and the emir could not quite keep his lip from curling into a patronizing sneer. "I am sure the caleph will be most grateful. He has often spoken to me of longing to hear the whales sing."

"Then there is no need to stay." Still clinging to the side of the ship, Tanetoa had to crane his neck to see the emir's face. "I will show you how to blow it, then you can go."

The emir scowled. "Go? I thought I had made myself clear. The only place we are going is to your island."

Now it was Tanetoa's turn to frown. "What for? You have the whale horn. We have nothing else of value."

"Perhaps not-though you said the same thing before bringing us this, uh, magnificent whale horn."

"I said that only because I did not realize what you wanted," explained Tanetoa. "We have nothing else."

The emir gave him a silky smile. "If you say so."

"I do!" Tanetoa thundered. "You have what you came for, and now you must leave!"

The crew drew back at Tanetoa's display of anger.

The emir glanced nervously at the ballistae on a nearby deck and raised his hand, then narrowed his eyes at the giant. "There is nothing I must do, save what the caleph orders. The caleph thanks you for your gift, but I am still here to protect your island."

Tanetoa's heart sank. Then he did not send you for the whale horn?"

The caleph's reasons are not for you to know," said the emir. "It is enough that you know what he wishes."

Tanetoa shook his head. "But with the whale horn, you can sing with the whales. You can ask them to fight with you against the Enemy Beneath."

"So you have said, but that changes nothing. We will come ashore with the high tide-and you will help us."

A sick feeling came over Tanetoa. He gently released the gunwale and sank into the water, allowing the ship to rock slowly back to center. Whatever the caleph's reason for sending his fleet to the island, it was not the whale horn. There would be a battle.

Tanetoa swam two strokes backward, then stopped to stare up at the emir. "No! You are not going to land. If you try, there will be a terrible battle with the lo-cathah-"

"Locathah?" the emir gasped. His men peered into the water around the ships, and harpoons began to appear along the rails again. "The locathah are here?"

They are already in the lagoon." Tanetoa was encouraged by the emir's alarm. Perhaps he would leave if he believed his humans to be outnumbered. Thousands of them. They came to defend the island from you."

"And you let them?" The emir's face turned stormy.

"You're in alliance with them!"

"No, but I will-"

"Traitor!"

The emir brought his hand down sharply, and several deep pulses echoed across the water. Tanetoa ducked beneath the surface and saw a dark meshwork of giant harpoons dragging heavy lines through the sea around him. He dived for the bottom, but one of his legs went numb. When he tried to kick, there was something dragging in the water behind him. He emptied his lungs so his body would not be buoyed by a chest full of air, then spread his webbed fingers and pulled for the bottom.

A bolt of searing pain shot through Tanetoa's leg, and he was jerked to an abrupt halt. He glanced back to see a barbed hook tugging at the flesh of his thigh, the dark stripe of harpoon line stretched taut behind him. He began to slip toward the surface, being drawn up through the water by the humans at the other end of the cord.

Tanetoa swam one stroke toward the surface, then wrapped his hand into the thick rope and gave a mighty jerk. The line went slack, then something heavy splashed into the sea. When the wave circle cleared, he saw the crosslike shape of a wooden ballista floating at the other end of the harpoon line.

Human wizards began to unleash their spells, and the sea erupted into a storm of crackling flashes and ear-shattering blasts. Tanetoa's head exploded into a tempest of blinding lights and dizzying concussions, then he went limp and felt himself floating toward the surface. He shook his head clear and flailed his leaden arms through the water, slowly dragging himself into the depths and away from the ships.

A dozen strokes later, he came to the end of the harpoon line and felt the ballista dragging through the water behind him. He pulled his knife from its ankle sheath and turned to cut the line. A cluster of small hand-hurled harpoons came slicing down behind him, and he saw the oblong hulls of four skiffs plowing through the water alongside the heavy ballista. Without cutting the line, Tanetoa turned and swam for his reef. The humans were not yet close enough to hit him with their little harpoons, but if he paused to cut the thick rope, they would be.

No more spells came from the skiffs, but Tanetoa quickly began to tire and ran out of air. He came up for a breath and was rewarded with the prick of a hand-hurled harpoon lodging itself in his shoulder. He gulped down a lungful of air and dived again, but the new line stopped him less than thirty feet beneath the surface. The reef came into sight. Hoping to buy some time in the narrow confines of the channel, he turned toward the mouth of the passage-then recalled the lo-cathah and realized what would follow if he led the humans into their midst. Praying that Kani would see what was happening and start hurling boulders, he turned parallel to the reef and swam away from the channel.

Another harpoon caught Tanetoa in the back, adding another skiff to his burden, and his pace slowed to a mere crawl. Having heard the whales sing of the "hauling death," he knew what lay in store for him if he did not cut the lines. He reversed directions, diving downward as the skiffs closed on him. Another flurry of harpoons came slicing through the water, and he felt two more of the barbed shafts lodge themselves in his back. There was the flash of another magic blast, but

Tanetoa's ears were still ringing from the earlier explosions and he barely noticed the concussion.

At last, the lines ran straight up from Tanetoa's back to the bows of the boats above. He sheathed his dagger, then gathered the ropes in his hands and swam upward, twisting the lines together as he rose. The skiffs turned toward each other and drifted together nose to nose, forming a tight little star above Tanetoa's head. A lightning bolt and a handful of harpoons slashed down through the water, but with the boats shielding him from above, none of the attacks came close. The sailors took up their oars and tried to move away from each other, but there was not enough room between the vessels to row. The humans began to hack at their harpoon lines in a panic.

It was too late. Tanetoa came up under the boats and began to sink them, capsizing some and using his bare fist to punch holes in others. The humans panicked and leaped overboard, tossing aside their heavy swords and unbuckling their steel breastplates as they sank toward the bottom. Tanetoa let them go, content to pull his knife and cut himself free.

The locathah had different ideas. They flashed past Tanetoa in a river of silver scales, overtaking the humans from below and opening them from gut to gullet. The water grew red and cloudy with gore, and the sound of garbled death screams came faintly to Tanetoa's ears. He cut himself free of the heavy bal-lista, then tried to pull the huge harpoon from his leg and managed only to lodge the barb deeper.

A locathah floated into view in front of him. "Does the Reefmaster wish help?"

When Tanetoa nodded, the locathah took its dagger and cut the flesh over the barb, then pulled the har poon free and let it sink into the depths.

Thank you," Tanetoa signed.

"This is no time for thanks."

The locathah gestured toward the human fleet, where twenty more skiffs were underway. In the bow of each boat stood a sorcerer, spells already crackling on his fingertips. Behind each sorcerer stood a dozen sailors armed with all manner of tridents, crossbows, and harpoons.

"We must return to the lagoon," said the locathah.

Tanetoa was about to despair when a boulder came sailing over his head and crashed through the hull of the lead ship. He looked back to see Kani kneeling on the reef flat, pulling another huge stone from a tidal pool, and Tanetoa realized that his wife had hit upon the only way to save the reef. If the humans and the locathah were determined to have their war, they could have it in the open sea.

Tanetoa turned back to the locathah. "You cannot return to the lagoon. That is what the humans want."

"Why?"

"Because you will be trapped." The pain of his wounds made it difficult for Tanetoa to think fast, but he hoped the explanation sounded reasonable. "We will kill more in the open water."

Without waiting for the locathah's answer, Tanetoa struck out toward the skiffs. Another boulder sailed over his head. This one splashed down harmlessly between two boats, but the resulting water spout knocked a wizard overboard. The skiff stopped to fish its sorcerer out of the sea.

Tanetoa came to the main school of locathah. Though the water was red with the blood of dying humans, many of the fishmen were turning to swim back toward the channel. He raised his hands, signaling them to stop.

"The giants will sink the human boats." He pointed at himself, then at Kani on the reef flat. The locathah will hunt the humans."

Another boulder sailed overhead, lopping the stern out of a skiff. A pair of men fell into the water and screamed for help.

The locathah considered the scene for a moment, then one signed, "May you eat and not be eaten."

"And may your belly be filled a dozen times," Tane-toa responded.

He turned and dived deep, ignoring his pain and swimming toward the skiffs. The locathah raced along beside him in ever growing numbers, and it was not long before they saw the boats slicing through the water above them. The bottom of one vessel disintegrated into fragments as a boulder came crashing through the hull. Half a dozen humans suddenly appeared in the water, struggling to unbuckle their armor and sinking to the bottom.

As the locathah shot up to slaughter the humans, they were greeted by a cacophony of eruptions and concussions. A dozen fishmen dropped their weapons to grab for their ears. A like number simply went limp and floated toward the surface. The survivors swarmed the sailors still in the water, clouding the sea with swirling blood. Harpoons and crossbow bolts slashed down from above, piercing locathah chests and puncturing locathah skulls. Within moments, the water became an impenetrable red fog.

Tanetoa came up beneath a skiff and punched a dozen holes in the bottom, then reached out and capsized another. The water broke into a frothing mass of red foam as the locathah swam to the attack. A human grabbed one of the small harpoons still lodged in Tane-toa's back and began to hack at his collarbone with a sword. The giant dived beneath the surface, where a locathah rescued him by slitting the human's throat. A silver bolt of lightning crackled through the water and blasted a head-sized hole through the chest of Tane-toa's rescuer.

Tanetoa whirled toward the surface and ripped the prow off the attacking wizard's skiff. The boat went down in the space of two breaths, pouring humans into the sea like eggs from a spawning grouper. Kani kept up a constant rain of boulders, smashing gunwales and shattering hulls at an ever-increasing pace. Tanetoa grew dimly aware that the battle was drifting closer to the outer reef, but the human flotilla was sinking fast, and the pace of their attack was declining at a steady rate. He dared to believe he and the locathah might drive the emir's landing party back to the ships.

Then the sharks came.

There were only a few at first, slashing through the red water, snapping and chomping and devouring anything they touched. The battle continued until only three skiffs remained, their crews rowing madly for the relative safety of the outer reef. Tanetoa caught one boat from behind, ripping the transom off the stern. A large tiger shark wriggled into the sinking boat and chased the inhabitants into the arms of waiting locathah. Kani sank a second boat, smashing a skiff in two with a porpoise-sized boulder.

The sharks quickly outnumbered the combatants, rising up to bite off the leg or arm of a sinking human, or coming in from behind to snap a surprised locathah in two. A giant mako attacked Tanetoa, ripping a great circle out of the giant's hip before he could drive his dagger through the thing's snout. The locathah, what few there remained, dived for the deep and fled. The humans simply died before they could unbuckle their breastplates-sometimes even before they could drop their weapons. The sole surviving skiff sped toward the reef as fast as twelve men could row with only two oars.

The boat was still twenty yards from shore when Kani lobbed a boulder into the starboard side. The vessel began to take on water and slowed to a snail's pace. The warriors clambered out of their breastplates and leaped toward shore, desperate to reach safety before the sharks took them. Even the fastest managed only three strokes before a big hammerhead caught him by the foot, and dragged him to a watery death.

The skiff's wizard was not so foolish. He remained in the bow, glaring at Kani, yelling in some arcane language and weaving a spell with his fingers.

"No!" Tanetoa swam for the sinking skiff, but was delayed when a frenzied blacktip bit his foot. "Kani, duck!"

Kani's eyes widened, and she turned to hurl herself from the reef flat as a dozen bolts of magic streaked from the sorcerer's fingertips. The blast caught her in the back of the head and launched her into the lagoon.

Tanetoa kicked free of the blacktip and lunged into the sinking boat. He caught the wizard from behind, dragged him out of the bow, and growled, "Why?"

"It is war." The wizard's eyes were burning with hatred, and his fingers were rushing through the gestures of a cantrip. "People die in wars-even giants."

"And so do sorcerers."

Tanetoa tossed the wizard to the sharks, then swam the last few yards to the reef. As he climbed onto th flat, the smell of blood and saltwater saturated his nos trils, and the air was filled with the clatter of wave hurling shattered boat hulls against the reef flat.

"Rani!"

Tan… Tane…"

Her voice was full of pain, and too feeble to finish hi name. Tanetoa rushed across the flat and saw his wif floating in the lagoon, surrounded by a roiling cloud o scarlet blood. Her eyes were open and glassy and star ing into the sky with a vacant expression.

"Kani, I'm here!"

Tanetoa dived into the water and took her in hi, arms. Her breathing was shallow and her flesh cold and he could feel a soft spot where the wizard's spel had shattered the back of her skull.

She grasped his wrist. "Your promise, Tanetoa. Yoi didn't keep it."

"I… I tried." He started toward shore. "But whei you started throwing boulders, I saw you had fount the way to save the reef."

"Not the reef, Tanetoa." Kani's hand fell away. "You.

Her eyes closed, then her body went limp and hei breathing grew too shallow to feel.

"Kani?"

She didn't answer. Tanetoa carried her up to thei] hut and laid her on their bed of palm fronds. He sa beside her all day and into the night, never looking om the window to see what had become of the emir's fleet or thinking even once of the reef she had saved. H‹ tended her wounds and held her hand and begged al the deities of the giants to save her, but there was t mighty war raging across the seas of Toril and the gods could not hear his prayers. In the heart of the night, t terrible stillness came to her, and Tanetoa sat weeping in the darkness.

At dawn, he carried her body outside. The fleet was gone and the Shining Sea lay as still as a mirror, but the war remained a close and black thing, like a hurricane roaring on the horizon. Tanetoa waded out into the lagoon and lay Kani in the warm water.

The locathah were streaming out through the channel, their silver-green backs flashing just beneath the surface. One circled away from the school and pushed its head out of the water so it could speak in the air-talk of humans.

"Greetings, Reefmaster." The locathah's voice seemed somehow both wispy and gurgling. "Your wife will be eaten?"

"Kani is dead," Tanetoa said, too sad and weary to take offense at what was to any sea creature the simple consequence of dying. "But she will not be eaten. I will build a tomb for her in the manner of a queen of my people."

The locathah's glassy eyes seemed puzzled for a moment, then it said, "Eadro praises her bravery. The humans have fled, and it was much her doing."

Tanetoa nodded, only half hearing the praise, then eyed the empty sea. "But why did they come at all? What did they want?"

"What do humans ever want?" The locathah opened its gills in the equivalent of a shrug. "No one knows."

10 Flamerule, the Year of the Gauntlet

The summer sun blazed over Cimbar in a cloudless sky. The still air shimmered as waves of heat beat down on Riordan's face. The smell of rotting fish was heavy in the dockyard. Sweat burned in his eyes, but he couldn't take time to wipe it away. He stumbled backward as the Soorenar's blade flickered in front of him, nicking his arm and shoulder in rapid succession.

Shouts, screams, and the clash of weapons echoed in the distance as the Dragon Watch fought the rest of the Soorenar raiding party. A watch patrol had stumbled on the raiders climbing down the hawsers of a shabby merchant ship anchored near the end of the wharf. The watchmen were outnumbered and killed, but not before one had sounded the alarm. The Dragon Watch barracks were close by and the entire company had turned out at the alarm. Now it was the Soorenar who were outnumbered and fighting for their lives, abandoned by the ship that was clawing its way out to sea before Cimbar's navy could catch it.

Blood oozed down Riordan's arm, mixing with the sweat and making the sword slippery in his grip. He'd chased this man into a cul-de-sac of crates and boxes and they each knew there would be no escape except over the body of the other. Two other watchmen had followed him but they stood back and made no offer to help. Riordan realized they were waiting to see him killed before they'd step in and finish off the raider. For the first time, he realized just how much of an outcast he really was.

Muscles rippled across the Soorenar's tattooed chest as the man twirled the heavy sword in front of Riordan's eyes. Plumed serpents writhed across his arms and shoulders. The tattoos told Riordan the man was a slave trained in the fighting rings. The tiny silver skulls suspended from the hoop in the Soorenar's ear warned Riordan he was facing a veteran of many combats. He would be very lucky to live through this fight.

Surprisingly, the Soorenar stopped and stepped back, putting his hand on his hip and lowering the point of his sword. He looked at the guardsmen a moment, then smiled and saluted Riordan with the blade.

"It seems strange a man's comrades won't help him, but a man should die with honor for all of that. Defend yourself or I'll kill you where you stand."

One of the watchmen laughed and spat. "Go on, milor', show him what those fancy fencing masters taught you."

"Milor' "-he hated the name, but ever since the other recruits found out he was the son of a noble, it had stuck. Thank the Gods they didn't know which noble.

Riordan was angry and frightened. After what had happened on his last patrol, his own comrades wouldn't help him. There was no hope for it. Taking a deep breath, Riordan moved into the guard position. He began his attack in a traditional style, hoping the ritual opening would lull the big man into complacency. The Soorenar parried in second and they sparred back and forth in the gritty street, neither able to gain an advantage. Sparkling motes of sand sprang up about their feet as they shuffled across the paving stones.

Riordan was not used to the heat. After several flurries his chest hammered and he was gasping for air. The Soorenar looked completely fresh. Riordan barely heard the jeers of the two spectators. His world had narrowed to the rasping sound of his feet on the street and the clash of steel. The Soorenar lunged and Riordan disengaged with a stop thrust that punctured the man's side, forcing the big man back.

The man put his hand to the wound and stared in disbelief at the blood that ran between his fingers, then he looked up and grinned, stepping forward to attack.

Riordan slowed and invited the attack in the first, exposing the outside low line and letting the other take the initiative. After a few feeble defensive moves, he decided it was time. Taking a tight grip on the hilt, he lunged, swinging down and under the Soorenar's blade, knocking the weapon to the side with a beat and reversing. The man laughed and continued the movement until his sword was back in position. Riordan pulled back at the last minute to avoid a riposte that would gut him like a fish.

"A pretty move, boy."

The big man's blade flickered and danced in front of him. Like a snake, it slithered under his guard and raked his chest, cutting a bloody furrow across his ribs and taking his breath away with a sudden, burning pain. The man kicked him in the stomach and Riordan gagged, falling to his knees in the street.

Riordan spat the sand from his mouth. He rolled away from a slashing cut that sent sparks up from the stone, and scrambled to his feet. One of the guardsmen laughed and Riordan glanced in his direction. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Soorenar's movement and cursed his inattention. He blocked, catching the man's blade and, without thinking, beat the other's sword out and swung under for a stroke that cut the big man across the thigh.

The Soorenar roared and charged in a series of lightning moves that Riordan could barely block. The invader's weapon caught Riordan's blade and spun the tips in the air hi narrow circles. Before Riordan could disengage, the raider closed and slammed his shoulder into Riordan's chest, knocking him backward. He straightened reflexively and the man smashed the bell of his guard into Riordan's face. Riordan dropped his weapon and collapsed to the ground struggling to remain conscious. The Soorenar's foot caught him on the side of the head and sent him sprawling.

From the corner of his eye Riordan saw the man's sword come up.

The blow never came. There was a clash of steel above him and a groan as the body of the Soorenar sprawled beside him.

His eye was swelling shut and it was hard to see, but Riordan recognized the voice of Morka Kodolan, Swordmaster of the Watch, yelling at the two watchmen. "You may hate him, but by Tchazzar he's a member of the Dragon Watch and we stand together. I should teach you all a lesson for this."

Riordan rolled over and tried to stand up. He started to thank Morka but the swordmaster's face was dark with fury. Ropy veins stood out on his forehead and his broad nose flared. Morka was short, squat, and heavily muscled. His head was shaved except for a single long braid growing from the back of his head. Barracks rumors said only a southern sect of specially trained warriors wore their hair like that.

Everyone on the watch was afraid of Morka and for good reason. He was like a berserker when angered. Right now he was very angry. He pushed Riordan against a crate and waved a fist the size of a plate in Riordan's face.

"Shut up, recruit! You're more trouble than you're worth. The clerics tell me it will be at least another tenday before Kendrick gets the use of his arm back. Last tenday your foolishness cost me the use of a good man and could have gotten him killed. Now this…"

Morka nodded to someone behind Riordan and said, "Get him cleaned up. Get him out of my sight." He slammed his sword into his scabbard and stalked away.

Rough hands jerked Riordan to his feet and pulled him toward the barracks. His head was spinning and he couldn't see from his right eye.

It was dark and cool inside the barracks and someone shoved a wet rag in his hands as he collapsed on his bunk. The man cut his shirt away and began to clean the slashes on his chest and arm. Riordan bit back a scream. He felt something in his hand and tried to see what it was.

The swelling will go away faster if you put this on your face."

Riordan couldn't make out the face of the speaker. The rag in his hand was sticky and smelled like rotten garbage. He grimaced and dropped it onto the floor.

"Easy, milor'…" The other bent down and picked it up again. "It's a special poultice."

Riordan tried to pull away, but the man put the rag over his eyes. He struggled for a minute, but the rag was cool and he relaxed as the pain went away.

Thanks."

Think nothing of it, mi-Riordan."

"I can't see you."

"It's Bashar."

Riordan was surprised. Bashar was Morka's corporal. Bashar, the barracks drunk. A burned-out husk of a warrior fit for nothing but to follow Morka around during drill and inspections. Yet the one man who'd decided to help.

Thanks, Bashar."

There was a moment of silence, then the man spoke again. "Rumor says you're the son of Evern Marsh."

Riordan grunted. He wondered how anyone found that out, but decided it was best to say nothing.

Bashar waited, then finally nodded as if Riordan's silence had been an answer. "I knew your father."

Another rummy looking for a handout from the son of a hero, Riordan thought. He sighed, "Third son, not much left for the last. Father wanted me to become a cleric."

"And you knew better." Bashar laughed softly and handed him the wet rag again.

Riordan felt defensive. There's a war coming with Soorenar. Everybody knows it. I'm needed here."

It was as if the old corporal hadn't heard him. "I remember you, but it was a long time ago. Your father made you a toy sword and used to drill you for hours. Wanted you to be a soldier, he did. Guess he must have changed his mind."

Memories came flooding back. Fragments of events that had been buried long ago. He propped himself Up on the cot and stared at blurred image of the older man. "I'd forgotten that. You really did know my father?"

Images marched across his mind. Not of the sword, but of the studies. The faceless line of tutors that came and went under the stern and watchful eye of his crippled father. Memorizing endless books, but never meeting his father's expectations… who would believe him? Evern Marsh, not once, but twice a hero, forcing his son to become a cleric-until Riordan ran away and joined the Dragon Watch.

"Why are you doing this?" Riordan took the rag away and tried to make out Bashar's face. "It was my blunder that nearly got Kendrick killed."

"I know. You went charging into that alley and the Soorenar were waiting for you. Knocked you out and nearly killed Kendrick when he tried to protect you. Then they escaped. If you'd waited…"

In his excitement, he'd forgotten to sound the alarm. It was a stupid mistake and almost got his partner killed. He tried to explain. "I saw them run, I was right behind them. I could have gotten them all."

"Except for the rearguard they left behind in the cross alley." Bashar shook his head. "Oldest trick in the book, lad."

He hesitated a moment, then continued, "I heard you did the same thing today. The man you chased was a seasoned warrior. Morka told me he wore six skulls."

"Two guardsmen were with me, but they held back and let me fight alone."

"I heard that, too."

Bashar took the rag and dipped it in the bowl of green poultice. He wrung it out and handed it back to Riordan. The stench was terrible.

"You asked me why I'm doing this. Your father saved my life once. I owe him something."

Riordan took the poultice away from his eye. His vision cleared enough to make out the corporal. Riordan stared at him, really seeing him for the first time.

Bashar had a lined face, wrinkled like a prune, though he moved like someone much younger. Riordan realized that Bashar was probably not as old as he looked, it was just that the wars had burned away all the excess flesh. His muscles were thin and ropy like the gnarled roots of some tree. Two copper bracelets with strange runes encircled his upper arms. The top of his head was completely bald and he'd pulled the hair on the sides into a long queue.

Barracks talk said Bashar was once a great swordsman, but wine had taken his senses and now he was a drunk barely tolerated by Morka Kodolan.

Riordan looked at Bashar. "What was my father like when you knew him?"

"Lad, he was a great fighter and a proud man. I never saw anyone handle a sword like he did. You know, sometimes I see a little of him in you. He looked like you when he was your age."

Riordan shook his head, picturing the shriveled, bitter man his father had become. Wrapped in a faded red shawl and confined to a chair, Evern Marsh spent his last days staring endlessly at the distant mountains from the open window of his bedroom.

"No, lad. You can't deny it. You both have that lean and hungry look. You're taller than I remember him being, but you have the same darkness about you. Dark eyes, dark hair, and the same dark disposition. Evern was slender like you, but a hard man. When he was young, no man would mistake him for a-"

"Stupid recruit like me." Riordan interrupted. He rubbed his shoulder and inspected the bandages on his arms and ribs.

"Nay, lad. That's not true. The fight this afternoon, for instance. That raider was a seasoned warrior. Six victories in the ring. Few could have stood alone against him even that long, lad."

"Not much good it did me."

"You're too hard on yourself. You're tall and that gives you the reach over most men, but most important, you're quick and you have good moves."

"That Soorenar would've killed me. He had moves I'd never seen before."

"Ring fighter's tricks, lad." He hesitated a moment. "I could show you. They're not hard."

Riordan stared at him a moment. He could use a friend. Even an old drunk.

Bashar was as good as his word. They spent the next tenday doing drills and exercises that left Riordan exhausted. In spite of that, his skills improved faster than he would have thought possible. Several times he caught Morka Kodolan watching them with a frown on his face. Later, Riordan saw the swordmaster stop Bashar on the way to the Owl Inn where he drank every tenday leave.

He was too far away to hear what was said, but he knew they were arguing. Finally the swordmaster threw his hands up and stalked away. Bashar stared after him for a while until he saw Riordan watching, then he too turned and walked away. Riordan hurried after Bashar and found him at a table drinking by himself in a dim corner of the Owl. Morka sat nearby talking to a grizzled veteran and eating a bowl of stew.

Two big men staggered over, dressed in the green and gold of the Wyvern Watch. One put his foot on the bench next to the swordmaster and said, "Hey, Morka, I heard a couple of your recruits ran into an alley last tenday after some Soorenar that torched a ship. Let 'em go, I heard. Guess they must have decided the Soorenar were too much for 'em." The man nudged his partner and laughed, sloshing ale on the floor.

Morka tensed, gripping his knife and staring hard at the other man. The big man blanched and smiled. "Hey, don't take it out on me. Everybody's talking about it."

The two men backed away as Morka pushed his food away and stood up. Heavy muscles flexed as he moved, highlighting the pale scars that crisscrossed the dark skin of his chest and face. The two watchmen looked at each other and put their hands to the hilts of their swords, but Morka ignored them.

He walked past the table where Riordan sat with Bashar. "I'm going to the Griffin to drink. The stink of recruits is too strong here."

Morka looked directly at Riordan then shook his head. "Bashar, I want to talk to you."

"Ill meet you there."

Morka stared at Riordan a moment longer, then walked away.

Riordan started to get up and follow, but Bashar put his hand on his sleeve. "Not now, lad. The Griffin is off limits to recruits."

"But what happened wasn't like that. It wasn't like they said."

"It doesn't matter, Morka's in no mood to listen. Didn't you learn anything last tenday?"

Riordan shook his head. "He has to listen."

"No, he doesn't. He doesn't have to believe you. He doesn't have to do anything at all. Don't you get it yet?"

Bashar waved his mug toward the door through which Morka had left. Ale slopped from the rim onto his shirt but he didn't seem to notice.

"Son, he's swordmaster. Things are the way he wants them to be. You're a recruit. There's nothing lower in this world than a recruit. Get used to it."

"He hates me. He thinks I'm the son of some useless noble. I've heard the stories about my father's fencing masters. The truth is, I paid for my own training and I had to sneak out every night to do it."

"He doesn't hate you lad, but he won't let you out of training till he thinks you're ready."

"Ill prove myself. He'll have to listen to me."

Bashar shook his head. "You already tried that once. Who're you really trying to prove yourself to?"

Riordan stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Unless you're blind, it's not hard to see. Third son of a famous warrior out to show everyone he's as good as his father…"

"Leave my father out of this. What do you know?"

"More than you might think." Bashar sighed and took a sip of his ale. "I served under him in three campaigns. Aye, a real firebrand he was. You're just like him."

Bashar put his mug on the table and motioned to the barmaid for another.

"That's what got you into trouble in the first place, lad."

He smiled at the maid and took the mug from her tray. He'd nursed a single ale tonight and Riordan noticed Bashar's hands were steady as he looked at him over the rim with sharp eyes.

"I guess you haven't learned anything. Maybe you're not like your father after all."

"My father again." Riordan started to get up.

"Wait, Riordan. There are things you should know about your father. Morka and I served with him in the last Flaming Spike uprising. We were with him at the GapofReth."

"The Gap of Reth?" Riordan stopped. It was his father's last campaign. He'd come home a crippled, bitter man after that battle. Riordan had heard stories, but his father would never talk about it.

"Aye, Evern had the rearguard. He held the Flaming Spike off until the Sceptanar's army got through. Those merchants were so grateful, Murzig Hekkatayn himself gave your father the hero's medal for that."

"He would never tell me what happened."

Bashar nodded. "Not surprising."

His voice dropped and his eyes took on a faraway look, remembering. "We lost too many companions in that action. Half the rearguard died on those slopes. Your father took terrible wounds. The clerics did their best, but couldn't save his legs."

Riordan nodded, remembering. "Mother was killed during one of the early raids of the war. Without her… when he came home he became different… He told me he wanted me to become a cleric."

Bashar sipped his ale and put his hand on Riordan's shoulder. "We all changed. It was a terrible, bloody battle. Perhaps your father had seen too much of what war could do. Maybe he wanted you to save lives rather than take them."

Bashar pushed away his ale and said, "Me… I became a drunk."

Riordan stared at him a moment. "My father… the wounds you described. How did he get out of the Pass?"

Bashar stood up and looked at Riordan a moment. His eyes softened, and he smiled. "Morka and I carried him, lad." Then he turned and walked out the door.

Riordan drank his ale and ordered another. He sat at the table and let his mind drift.

Riordan was groggy the next morning when the alarm clanged outside the barracks window. The recruits stumbled around the barracks in the dark, struggling to find their weapons and armor. There was a rush for the door and Riordan fell into line, panting and out of breath.

Morka stood there with his hands on his hips as he studied the line of recruits. Bashar stood beside him. The polished armor of the two men gleamed in the soft light of the dawn. Morka's expression took on a deep frown as they began to walk down the line of stiff recruits.

"You pissants probably think that was good." He shook his head. "I've never seen such a miserable performance."

He grabbed for the spear of the watchman in front of him. The weapon clattered to the ground. The recruit turned pale and tried to avoid the eye of the swordmaster.

"Release the weapon when I have it in my hand, not before. Twenty laps in the coliseum tonight."

He moved down the line and stopped in front of Ri-ordan, inspecting his armor and harness. "Not bad. Someone taught you to hang your sword forward, I see."

From the corner of his eye, Riordan saw Morka glance at Bashar then move to the next recruit.

There was a clatter of hooves, and a column of horsemen entered the parade ground.

"Attention! Form up!" The two ranks of recruits snapped to attention on the swordmaster's command.

Khedra, Captain of the Dragon Watch, and one of his lieutenants rode up behind Morka and Bashar. Their polished armor cast blinding reflections in the sun. Two other men were with them. Riordan recognized Stilmus, leader of the Society of the Sword and one of the magistrates from the third section.

"Third section, Dragon Watch present and accounted for, sir!" Morka said.

"Stand at ease."

Khedra took a moment to look up and down the ranks of soldiers. Riordan could not tell if he was pleased with what he saw. His bronzed face looked weathered and tired, but his cold blue eyes seemed to miss nothing.

"Normally, you recruits would spend another month learning your drill, but things have changed. There are reports of raids along the western coast of the Sea of Fallen Stars. Yesterday, two triremes were cut loose and driven on the rocks in Airspur. Two others were torched a day later."

There was surprised muttering from the watchmen.

"All right men, settle down." Khedra paused and stared at the recruits.

"We know it's the Soorenar, stirring things up again and we have to be prepared. The raiders you caught last tenday are just one example. There have been several unexplained fires on merchant ships and even some rumors an assassin is loose. We believe there will be some attempt to cripple the fleet. I want these raiding parties stopped.

"Each of you recruits will be assigned to patrol with an experienced guardsman. You will find these raiders and you will call in the rest of the watch. Is that clear?"

"Clear, sir!" they shouted in unison

"By the way, Stilmus is looking for one or two outstanding recruits among the watch for the Society of the Sword. He will be observing you all in the next few days."

There was a buzz of excitement through the ranks.

"Good." Khedra looked over the ranks with a pleased expression. "Swordmaster, corporal, you know what to do." Khedra spun his horse and trotted away.

"You heard the captain. Fall out and suit up for patrol."

Riordan started to join the others when Morka held out his hand. "All except you, Riordan. You stay in the barracks."

Riordan jerked upright. His voice quivered with anger, but he couldn't help it. "I should be out on patrol, sir."

"Yes, you should, but you won't." He shook his head. "You're not ready. Your recklessness might kill the comrade you're with. The answer is no."

"But that's not fair!"

"Fan-? The last time you were in an engagement the two watchmen with you would've let you be killed. Just who do you suppose I should pair you with?" Morka stared at him and started to turn away.

"Sir, perhaps he could patrol with me?"

"You, Bashar?"

"Aye, sir. You know we need every available man. We're stretched too thin as it is."

Morka frowned. "I…"

Bashar drew himself up. "I'd take it as a personal favor."

At that moment, there was something different about the corporal. He didn't seem like the stooped rummy that cleaned weapons for a silver and staggered into the barracks every night.

Morka frowned. He looked as if he would say something, but then he shrugged. "So be it. It's on your head, Bashar."

Bashar spent most of the day going over the route with Riordan. He pointed out the buildings that had to be checked and the layout of the streets they would patrol. Bashar warned him to be especially alert for fires. Cimbar had been hot and dry for over a month and there was still no sign of rain. By evening, Riordan felt ready.

The docks of Old Town were deserted. Moonlight filtered through the narrow streets threading between the overhanging buildings. In the distance, the peak of the Untheri pyramid was visible. Here and there, light reflected off iridescent puddles of water between the cobblestones. The smell of the sea and rotting fish lay heavy on the hot, still air.

The shops were closed and shuttered. Riordan and Bashar tested the locks and rattled the windows to make sure the buildings were secure for the night.

Bashar stopped by an apothecary. "Did you hear that?"

"It was just a cat."

"Then it was a cat with steel claws. I heard the sound of metal. Come on."

Riordan followed Bashar trying to move as quietly as the older man did. The corporal moved quickly down the street and hesitated. He held up his hand and gestured toward a narrow alley.

Riordan drew his sword and followed Bashar into the gloom. He tried to stay close to the wall, trailing his hand against the wet, mossy brick.

"In here." Bashar was right in front of him. Riordan noticed the deeper blackness of an open doorway beside him.

"Follow me and open your lantern when I call out." Bashar's voice was a whisper.

Riordan held the lantern up and followed Bashar into the room. Somewhere ahead came the sound of metal scraping on glass.

"Now!"

Riordan pulled open the door on the lantern and blinked as yellow light washed across the room. In the far corner, someone was bent over a cabinet. Papers lay scattered across a nearby table.

Bashar charged the man, but the intruder turned and drew his sword with incredible speed. There was a ringing clash of steel on steel and bright sparks scattered across the floor.

The two figures blurred together, and Bashar yelled as he was flung across the room. Riordan charged the thief, but it was like he'd hit a wall. The lantern was knocked from his hand and he was thrown to the floor.

A black shape blocked the moonlight in the open door frame, and the thief was out in the street. Riordan and Bashar stumbled over one another and followed him out the door. Bashar blew his whistle to draw the other teams.

"Come on. He's getting away "

Riordan ran after his partner, trying to keep up. They followed a dizzying series of twists and turns across Dock Street and into the merchant district. The thief was heading toward the university and the Scep-tanar's palace.

Finally, Bashar stopped. He bent down and put his hands on his knees, taking deep, gasping breaths. "I'm getting too old for this."

"Why are we stopping?"

"Because the alley he ran into is a dead end. I want you to stay here and signal for the rest of the watch."

"What about you?"

"I'm going in after him. You wait till you hear the others, then come in and back me up."

"You're doing just what I did!"

This is different. Riordan, this is no ordinary thief. I caught a glimpse of him just before he ran out the door. We're not chasing a Soorenar, this is a malenti."

"A malenti?" Riordan couldn't make the connection. He tried to remember the stories he'd heard about the creatures. "What's a sahuagin assassin doing on land?"

"Exactly. Why would a malenti be working with the Soorenar?" Bashar looked down the alley and spoke quietly. "This is important, lad. One of us has to signal, you heard the commander. Now do as I say!"

Bashar stared at him until Riordan nodded. The older man smiled and clapped him on the shoulders. "You're learning. Your father would be proud of you."

Riordan stared into the gloom and blew his whistle as the corporal crept into the alley. If the stories Riordan had heard were true, Bashar had just sentenced himself to death. There was no way Bashar could overcome a malenti and he knew it. Even together it was unlikely they would kill the creature.

He blew his whistle again and again until he heard an answering cry in the distance. In the alley behind him there was the brief sound of swords clashing and a sudden groan. He blew the whistle one more time and heard shouts and answering whistles approaching. Hardly thinking, he set his lantern on a barrel where it could not be missed, drew his sword, and ran into the alley.

Bashar lay curled on the stones. Riordan knelt and felt the weak pulse at his neck, relieved that the old man was still alive. Several yards away, the malenti stood in the alley. Riordan stood up and crept toward it. He drew his sword and the creature turned and faced him at the sound.

"Throw down your weapon," Riordan commanded. "The watch is right behind me."

The creature laughed. It was a harsh, barking sound. "Should I throw myself on your human mercy? Will it be any better than these?"

For the first time Riordan noticed the movement in the darkness at the other end of the alley. Two figures stepped forward, then more emerged. Moonlight glittered on dark scales and polished black harnesses. His heart sank. It was a sahuagin raiding party, come to the aid of the malenti.

A flickering light came from the window of the building behind the sahuagin and Riordan thought of crying out for the people inside. Then he saw the black smoke billow out a broken window and heard the crackle of the flames. The sahuagin were going to burn the docks.

More of the creatures stepped forward and Riordan realized the sahuagin raiding party carried torches and tools used for sinking ships. He remembered Khedra's stories of ships destroyed and burned.

There was a groan from Bashar and one of the sahuagin glanced at the corporal. Its ears twitched and it looked at the sahuagin leader. The leader of the raiders grunted something, raised a greenish-black arm, and pointed to Bashar and Riordan. The smaller sahuagin gripped its trident and stepped toward Bashar. Riordan moved in front of it to protect his comrade. There would be no escape from this, but perhaps he could hold them off until the guard arrived.

The leader of the sea devils snarled something and the malenti shook his head. Riordan couldn't understand what was said, but the meaning was clear enough. The sahuagin wanted something the malenti wouldn't give them.

The creature turned to look at him as the moon came out from the clouds and illuminated the scene in the alley. The malenti was manlike except for silver-green skin. The hair that Riordan thought was black was really a dark blue. Dark eyes studied him and gill slits on the sides of its neck quivered when he spoke. "It seems you will not capture me after all, human. These scum…" he nodded toward the sahuagin, "have decided they have first claim."

Riordan smiled and shifted his sword to a two-handed grip. "I see. Between malenti and sahuagin there is no honor among thieves."

The malenti drew himself up and hissed. "I am not one of them. I am a sea elf."

Riordan's head was spinning. What was going on here? "So you say. No matter-they'll have to wait their turn. You're my prisoner first."

The elf raised an eyebrow and laughed. "You are either a fool or the best swordsman in Chessenta. However, I believe you and I will have to kill them first before we can determine that."

The leader of the sahuagin signaled with its trident and stepped into the light. The rest of the band moved with it. Moonlight glittered on scales that ranged from green to black and their claws scraped the stones as they moved into position. The narrow alley filled with the scent of their musk and the sea.

Riordan took a step alongside the elf, who stared at him with a strange expression, but only for a moment. He nodded as if a question had been answered, then lowered his spear and faced the sahuagin raiders.

The sahuagin circled the two until they were completely surrounded. Back to back, Riordan and the elf stood over Bashar and watched the creatures advance. There was a shout and two of the sahuagin charged Riordan. He moved back, blocking the thrust of the spear with the flat of his sword and maneuvering the creature in front of its companion. Snarling, the creature tried to get a clear opening to thrust. Finally, Riordan saw his chance. He caught the shaft of the first one on the edge of his sword and felt the vibration up his arm. Twisting, he parried the weapon to the side, into the path of the other creature. Before it could react, he kicked the legs from under the first sahuagin and stabbed it through the throat as it fell. There was a bubbling scream and warm blood spurted across bis arm.

The second sahuagin snarled and leaped across the body of the first. Riordan ducked under its swing and stabbed upward, slashing into the soft underbelly of the creature. The sahuagin screamed and staggered backward, holding its stomach. The sea elf buried his spear in the sahuagin's heart.

The elf spun away from the creature just in time to block the slash of another sahuagin that leaped from the shadows. The sea devil slammed into the elf and knocked him against Riordan. Two more sahuagin attempted to close with Riordan when he fell, but he rolled under the thrust of one and slashed at the leg of the other. Dark blood spurted from the wound and the creature screamed in pain as it clutched its thigh and scrabbled back against the wall.

Using a move Bashar had taught him, Riordan slammed the bell of his sword against the knee of the second sahuagin. He heard the bone snap and the creature collapsed with a moan in a pool of filthy water.

Wary now, the remaining sahuagin thrust and lunged, hoping to break through their guard. The stone walls of the alley echoed with the sharp clash of steel on steel.

In the distance, Riordan heard the horns of the approaching guard. The sahuagin grew desperate. The beast in front of Riordan charged, but slipped on the blood in the alley. Riordan jumped back from the desperate thrust it made as it fell. The creature threw a torch at Riordan as he prepared to lunge. There was a crash of glass as the burning torch went through a window. Behind him Riordan felt a sudden blast of heat as the building caught fire.

The blaze momentarily blinded the sahuagin and it blinked and turned its face away from the flames. Ri-ordan slashed at the creature's wrist and it shrieked and dropped its spear. Riordan continued his thrust and the blade sank into the creatures' stomach.

The elf was fighting the leader of the sahuagin. The sahuagin was fast, but if anything, the elf was faster. The sahuagin swung its trident at the elf, but the creature was no longer there. All Riordan could see was a blur of movement and a dark ribbon of blood appeared across the sahuagin's chest. The creature roared and lunged again and this time Riordan heard the meaty sound of the weapon hitting flesh.

The elf grunted and staggered back. With a roar, the sahuagin charged the elf, holding the blades of the trident out and low. The next thing Riordan saw was the tines striking a blank wall and the elf appearing behind the sahuagin as if by magic. The shaft of the elf's spear slammed across the throat of the surprised sahuagin leader. Twirling the weapon, the elf spun and buried the spear in the sea devil's chest. The creature moaned and its claws scrabbled at the shaft as if it would escape, but the elf twisted the blade with a jerk and the sahuagin collapsed.

Reacting without thinking, Riordan spun and knocked the elf back. The elf tried to go after his spear, but Riordan pressed the point of his sword into the elf s throat, forcing him up and back from the weapon. He noticed the sea elf was bleeding from a deep gash in his side.

"Our truce is over."

The elf stared at him, ignoring the blade at his throat. "Our fight meant as little to you as that?"

This fight meant nothing. You have no interest in helping us."

The sea elf shook his head and sneered at Riordan. "They will kill you all, you know."

The elf started to move, but Riordan pressed the tip of the sword harder against his throat. A thin stream of blood sprang from the tip and ran down the sea elf's neck.

"You're right, human. You and your kind mean nothing to us. For months I've been spying on the sahuagin, pretending to be one of their assassins. They've breached the Sharksbane Wall now, and already flood the Inner Sea. My people are prepared, but the war will be long and costly."

"That means nothing to me. You're my prisoner." Riordan tried to sound sure of himself, but what the elf was telling him made him worried. He needed Morka to listen to this.

"Foolish words. Don't you know that you and everyone here in Cimbar will be next?"

There was a shout nearby, and Riordan answered. Before he knew what happened, the elf had knocked his sword aside and was sprinting down the alley. Without breaking stride, he jumped on top of a stack of several crates and sprang to the top of a low roof. Flames burst from a building nearby and outlined the elf clearly.

The sea elf hesitated for a moment and Riordan heard him say, "Tell them what you saw here, human. It is the sahuagin who are burning your fleets." He turned and Riordan saw his outline vanish over the roofline.

There was a groan and Riordan bent down to check on Bashar.

"Are you all right?"

"Other than a cut and a knot on the head. I'm lucky to be alive. Funny, it seemed like the malenti was holding back."

"He wasn't a malenti, Bashar." Riordan explained what happened.

The corporal nodded, then grimaced in pain. Riordan realized Bashar's wounds were more serious than he let on. "I've got to get you out of here."

"No… wait." Bashar groaned and grabbed his arm. "When the watch gets here…" Bashar coughed.. "Don't say anything about the sea elf. Khedra would never believe you. Tell Morka."

"But-"

"That's an order, Riordan. Tell Morka." Riordan agreed and the corporal nodded and collapsed.

There was a clatter of hooves and Khedra and Stil-mus rode into the alley with a dozen guardsmen behind them.

Khedra took immediate command. "Seal off both ends of the alley. Now! No one comes in. Get the fire crews in here immediately."

"Aye, m'lord."

Khedra dismounted and strode through the bodies to where Riordan stood.

"These are sahuagin!"

"Yes, sir. They had torches and had already set one building on fire when Bashar and I got here. They had cutting tools as well. I believe they were going to destroy the ships next."

Khedra stopped and stared at him a moment. "Were you responsible for this, watchman?"

"Yes, sir. Bashar and I…" How much could he tell them? "Sir, it's important you know-the sahuagin are behind the recent attacks on the fleet, not the Soore-nar."

"Hmm… at least this attack. This is important news." Khedra smiled and put away his sword. "Well done, watchman."

Morka Kodolan had arrived and was kneeling and talking to Bashar. From time to time he looked up at Riordan, but Riordan could not read his expression. He motioned to two guardsmen who helped Bashar onto a litter.

The swordmaster came up to Riordan and clapped him on the shoulder. "You've accounted well for yourself, Riordan."

Khedra stared at Riordan intently. "Riordan… aren't you the one that…?"

Morka stepped forward. "A minor error in judgment, sir. Riordan is one of my finest recruits. Bashar also speaks very highly of him."

Khedra stared a moment at Morka, then turned to Riordan. "I'm certain he does. Perhaps Riordan can join us later?"

"That's right." Morka clapped Riordan on the shoulder. "The Dragon Watch will be gathering tonight at the Griffin. It's somewhat of a tradition after an action."

Riordan felt a lump in his throat and mumbled, "I… I'd be honored."

Khedra nodded. "Good. That's settled, then."

Morka pointed to Bashar's litter that was being carried from of the alley. "You'd better hurry. No knock on the head will keep Bashar from a party for long."

On the way out of the alley, Stilmus stopped Riordan.

"I have need of good men, son. I could find a place for you in the Society of Swords, What do you say?"

Riordan looked first at Morka, then up the street at Bashar's disappearing litter. "Thank you, sir, but I think I've found my place right here."