"Getting to House Darowdryn should be quite an adventure," Pilos said. The Abreeant, Edilus, and the mercenaries had pulled the wagon into an alley near the store where Emriana and, to their extreme surprise, Xaphira were hiding. They were all circled around the trussed up form of Lobra Pharaboldi, who was scowling at them, her mouth stuffed with cloth. "I can't believe you're here," he said, beaming at Emriana.
The girl returned his smile, but there was a sadness in it he had never seen before. "Tymora smiled on us a few times last night," she said.
"What happened? How did you get free?" he asked, eager to hear of the girl's exploits.
Emriana shook her head. "Not now, not here," she said, still in that soft, sad voice. "We have to get her off the street before someone sees her."
Pilos nodded, though he did not understand and wanted to. Later, he decided. She's obviously been through a lot.
Horial was doing some quick rearranging in the cart. "All right, lift her up here," he said after making room next to Grolo.
Lobra thrashed and kicked but Emriana gave her one hard smack across the cheek and the woman stopped struggling. Adyan and Edilus hoisted the bound prisoner up off the cobblestones while Pilos kept a nervous watch over their surroundings. The last thing they needed was a city watchman strolling by at just the wrong time.
In the end, the two Matrell women had to ride on the cart, sitting on Lobra, who was pinned under a blanket beside the still-unconscious Grolo. Along with Edilus, they looked like some sort of traveling carnival, and a dirty one at that.
As they set off, Pilos suddenly remembered. "Em," he said, pulling a satchel out from under the seat of the cart. "I think these are yours."
Emriana eyed the bag in puzzlement for a heartbeat, then her expression brightened immeasurably and she grabbed at it. "Hetta!" she cried, digging into the satchel. Finding the ring, she slipped it onto her finger and turned all her attention to something unseen. Pilos smiled, happy to have cheered the girl. After a moment, she removed the ring and held it out to Xaphira, who stared at it with wariness. "Go on, take it," Emriana said. "She wants to speak with you."
Gingerly, Xaphira took the ring from her niece's hand and slipped it on. Her eyes glazed over and she stared at nothing, and Pilos knew she was in silent conversation.
Emriana leaned forward and gave the young priest a tight hug. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you for bringing her back to me."
Pilos smiled. "It was more like her bringing me back, but you're welcome."
The girl dug around in the satchel some more, then gasped in delight as she pulled out her opal pendant. "I can contact Vambran!" she exclaimed, slipping it over her head.
Emriana took hold of it to make use of its magic, but Xaphira reached out and stopped her. "Wait," she said. "Wait until after everyone has heard each other's stories. He'll want to know as much as we can tell him."
Emriana frowned for a moment, then nodded. "All right," she said, tucking the pendant away.
They rode on in silence for a time, partially because it seemed to Pilos that Emriana did not want to talk, but also because he was concerned that palace guards or the city watch might still be looking for them. At one point, Xaphira turned to Emriana and said, "Quill is dead." Pilos watched as her niece reached out and took Xaphira's hand, squeezing it in a comforting manner, but Pilos wasn't sure from the older woman's expression whether she was grieving or gratified. She remained silent for the rest of the ride.
The united group succeeded in reaching the Darowdryn estate without further trouble. As they rolled through the gates of the estate and word was sent ahead that they had arrived, Pilos felt himself finally relax. He could sense the others reacting the same way. At the front steps of the house, Ariskrit immediately took control of the situation, sending servants scattering in every direction and ordering every one of the new arrivals into baths and clean clothes. There were no complaints.
After everyone refreshed themselves, the entire group convened to discuss events. Pilos stifled a big yawn as he waited for everyone to gather in his family's sitting room. He had been one of the first to arrive.
Long night, he realized. When was the last time I slept? He realized it had been the night before the last, and fitfully at that. When Mikolos died, Pilos remembered, feeling his throat constricting in sorrow. Has it only been one day?
The Abreeant felt much better, though, even if he was tired. A hot bath and clean clothes could do wonders for a person who had been nearly stabbed, drowned, and shot at numerous times throughout the day and night. Everyone else who drifted into the room looked better, too, though Emriana still had that strange, haunted look on her face. It troubled Pilos, but he resolved to give her whatever time she needed and not press her about it. She'll tell me when she's ready, he told himself.
The sitting room quickly became crowded as everyone packed in. In addition to himself, Uncle Tharlgarl, and Ariskrit, Pilos counted Emriana and Xaphira, Horial, Adyan, Grolo-looking much better after substantial healing-and Edilus, and a pair of House guards sitting on either side of a still-confined Lobra.
Ariskrit cleared her throat and everyone grew silent. "Well, now," she said in a bemused tone. "It seems that a few of us have had a rather interesting evening. Lots of news to share and plans to be made. But before we begin, let me just say that House Darowdryn has always been and will continue to be staunch allies of the Matrells and their associates. Let that never be in doubt." She looked pointedly at Emriana and Xaphira, and the grand dame sent an icy stare toward Lobra, who sniffed. Pilos wasn't buying into the woman's airs, though. She looked beside herself with apprehension.
She knows she's in a pickle, the young priest thought.
In turn, everyone told their stories. Along the way, there were more than a few gasps and murmurs, and when Emriana described how she had come to be free of the mirror, she seemed to leave a large gap in the tale. At one point, she had to stop and clutch at her aunt's hand, but she got through her part of things without ever revealing what Pilos was beginning to suspect was the reason for her demeanor.
When everyone had explained their adventures, and after considerable back-and-forth questioning, the room fell silent.
"All right," Ariskrit said, turning to look at Lobra. "Let's see what you have to say." She gestured for the two guards to remove the woman's gag. Once she was free to speak, she looked around the room, her expression sullen. "You might as well go ahead," Ariskrit said. "We'll beat the truth out of you eventually, but you can spare yourself quite a bit of misery by just spilling it now. And don't think we won't know if you lie. We've got plenty of enchantments to reveal falsehoods. Well?" she demanded and tapped her toe.
Lobra, still looking sullen, finally began to speak. "My husband did most of it," she said. "I was too distraught with family deaths to participate much."
"And is it true that your husband has been conspiring with House Talricci and the newly appointed Grand Syndar to bring about all this chaos?"
"I suppose so," Lobra muttered.
"Speak up, girl," Ariskrit demanded, crossing over to where Lobra was restrained. "Your mother isn't here to see this, rest her soul, but if she were, I'm sure Anista Pharaboldi would be more than a little upset with your antics of late. Now then, did your husband conspire with Grand Syndar Lavant and Grozier Talricci to start a war?"
Lobra began sniffling then, all of her stoicism lost. "Yes!" she blurted. "Yes! They wanted to corner the lumber market! And they wanted House Matrell out of the way while they did it! I went along with it because I was so angry with the Matrells for what happened to my brother and mother! Falagh hates you all so much, and I just learned to hate you, too." At that point, she broke off speaking and sat there, looking miserable.
For a moment, Pilos started to feel sorry for the woman, for it seemed to him that she had been manipulated by others into her participation. Emriana stood up, walked over to Lobra, and glared at her. Then, out of nowhere, she smacked the sniveling woman. And it was no slap, but a full-on, hand-balled-into-fist punch in the mouth. The blow knocked Lobra backward with a grunt.
Everyone in the room gasped in surprise and began to talk at once. Xaphira jumped up and grabbed Emriana, pulling her back, while Lobra, chastened, stared at the floor, a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth. Whatever sympathy Pilos had felt for the woman before, it was gone with that outburst. Emriana didn't say anything as she was led back to her seat, but she continued to glare at Lobra for a long time.
Once calm had been restored, Ariskrit turned to Pilos. "Do you think the other priests of the temple would be interested in hearing what our dear Lobra has to say?" she asked.
The Abreeant nodded. "I don't think they'll be too happy with their new Grand Syndar," he said. "The Waukeenar are not in the business of starting wars for profit," he said firmly.
"Then I think it's time you went to them and told them what evidence we have," Ariskrit said. "But you can't go alone. You need some other folk who can help you convince them to listen."
"Horial, Adyan, and Grolo should go, too," Xaphira said. "I can't imagine the clergy will be happy to hear that Lavant and Falagh tried to exterminate an entire company of their finest troops."
Horial began shaking his head. "We promised Vambran we would look after you and Em," he said. "We gave our word."
Xaphira gave the mercenary a cold stare. "I was fighting in skirmishes before the two of you and Vambran were old enough to kiss the girls," she said. "Vambran means well, but Emriana and I can take care of ourselves. Now that we know exactly how widespread this whole horrible scheme is, House Matrell is not the only entity in danger. We need to make certain everyone in the city is aware of it. Lavant cannot be allowed to continue to rule the temple. You three are going with Pilos."
Horial shrugged and said, "Yes, ma'am." He cast a quick glance at Adyan, but the other sergeant was just grinning and shrugged back.
"I would go with them, too," Edilus said, bringing the room to absolute silence as everyone turned to look at the druid. "Though I did not intend to come here with the soldiers, I see that they have been honorable in their words to me, and I want to aid them." He turned and looked directly at Horial. "And my debt to you for saving my life is over!" he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.
"Suits me just fine," Horial said. "I think maybe it's time for the temple to meet one of you druids, anyway. Might get a better idea of what you stand for, which to my way of thinking would be a good first step toward repairing relations with the Enclave."
Edilus seemed surprised at the sergeant's words, and he inclined his head in acknowledgement.
"Then it's settled," Ariskrit said. "Pilos and the boys will go to the temple to expose Lavant for the liar that he is. And you," she said, looking at Lobra again, "will remain our guest until the priests are ready to talk to you themselves."
"Emriana and I are going back to our house," Xaphira announced. "We have some unfinished business there."
Ariskrit looked worried for a moment, but when she saw the determined look in both women's eyes, she nodded. "I see by your expressions that you're every bit as determined as Hetta always was, so I don't think I could talk you out of it if I tried. Very well, then, I'll just wish you good luck and offer you whatever I can from our House to aid you."
Xaphira smiled and nodded her thanks.
The mercenaries wasted no time setting out with Pilos. At first, they considered taking a contingent of Darowdryn guards with them for additional force, but they decided it would draw the wrong kind of attention, suggesting that they intended to be confrontational. Instead, they took advantage of Darowdryn coaches and rode through the city streets in relative obscurity. From time to time they spotted Generon guards about, but it didn't look as if a concerted effort to track them down continued. After they rolled past the third such group without incident, Pilos began to relax.
The coaches made their way through the crowded streets and reached the temple complex by early afternoon. They rode right up to the front entrance, and Pilos and the others climbed down, ready to stride right into the middle of the council chambers and declare Lavant a traitor to the Waukeenar. The temple was bustling with activity as they entered, but more than a few clerics stopped dead in their tracks as Pilos and the others passed.
At first, the Abreeant thought it was simply because Edilus was with them, but as they approached the council chambers, he began to realize that temple guards were everywhere, watching them. They reached the door and prepared to go inside, but one of the guards stepped in their path, barring them entry.
"By order of the Grand Syndar and the entire high council," the guard said, "you are all under arrest for crimes against the temple and the city."
* * * * *
Arbeenok was waiting, about as agitated and impatient as Vambran ever remembered seeing the alaghi, by the time he and Serille returned from their swim. As the mercenary climbed out of the water, the druid paced back and forth.
"I had a new vision," Arbeenok said, cocking his head to one side and looking at Vambran quizzically once he realized that the lieutenant sported aquatic features.
Vambran held up the necklace as he shook the water from his body. "They have one for you, too," he said, gesturing back at Serille, who had emerged with him from the water and was moving to speak with other sea elves. "So what did your vision reveal?" he asked. It seemed to Vambran that some of Serille's companions who had been sent to consult with the elders had returned. He wasn't sure by faces, but there seemed to be more figures in the room than before.
"There is a great chamber, a hall of some sort," Arbeenok said, "and many people are in the chamber, a gathering, an official ceremony. And everything has a green tinge to it."
"Green? Is it a trick of the light? Is this place underwater?" Vambran asked. He considered putting his clothes back on, but didn't really see the point. If we're going swimming again once we know something, he told himself, why bother?
"No," Arbeenok said in answer. "I think this must have happened a long time ago, before the city was washed away by the tidal wave."
"But green is significant," Vambran said. "Maybe we're looking for something green."
"That is quite likely," Serille said, returning to the pair after an extended conversation with her kin. "We believe we may have uncovered information about this magic you seek." She entwined her hand into Vambran's as she explained. "Many hundreds of years ago, in the Year of the Stricken, right before the cataclysm that destroyed the human kingdom on the surface, our landed brethren of the forests came to visit the leader of your people, in a city known as Naarkolyth."
Vambran started to explain to Serille that they were not his people. Though he had little knowledge of the history of Jhaamdath, what bits he did know suggested that they had been introverted and decadent, suspicious of all outsiders. He held his tongue, though, figuring it wasn't germane to the story.
"One of the things they brought with them was an item of powerful healing. We believe this is what you seek."
"I don't suppose you know where the remains of this Naarkolyth are, do you?" he asked.
Serille adopted a serious mien. "As a matter of fact, I do," she said. "But it is well hidden, hard to reach, and in dangerous waters."
"Perfect," Vambran said. "Just what I wanted to hear. What do we need to do now?"
"We are prepared to guide you to the remains of the city," the sea elf answered. "And a few among us are willing to accompany you into its depths. We have gathered provisions for this trip, and by Deep Sashelas's will, we will find your magic and help you save your people."
Vambran nodded his head. "Then let's get going," he said, "the plague is undoubtedly spreading above. And you can tell me more of this history along the way."
Serille smiled and nodded.
Along with Arbeenok, Vambran, and Serille, ten more sea elves began the journey to Naarkolyth. Serille led them out of the cave and into the depths of the Reach. They traveled along the slope of the continental shelf, rather than descending deeper into the water, for the elves had explained that they would encounter fewer enemies at a shallower depth, and they would wait until the last possible moment before turning and dropping into the murk.
As before, Vambran found the travel exhilarating, because he had the freedom to swim himself rather than relying on Arbeenok to tow him. He worried that he would miss his armor, but since none of the elves in the group wore any, he decided to trust his instincts and learn their ways and culture as best as he could.
Arbeenok did not seem quite as exuberant about swimming as the lieutenant did, and Vambran imagined that being able to transform into a multitude of animals would make the druid less amazed by such new experiences. Still, the alaghi took the opportunity to observe the many wonders of the sea, pointing out flashing schools of fish darting back and forth, great spreads of coral covering the sea floor, and an amazing variety of kelp and other aquatic plants, all of which provided the swimmers with a spectacular vista. They passed the occasional shipwreck, too, in various stages of decay. Vambran pondered the fates of the sailors who had been on board those vessels, wondering how Lady's Favor might look at the moment, sitting in the sandy bottoms where she went down.
His thoughts were interrupted as Serille began to relate some of the history of Naarkolyth. "The elves of the forests and the people of the coastal lands did not agree on a great many things, but in the Year of the Stricken, as I mentioned, they made a last effort at peace. The elves brought with them many gifts, tributes that they hoped would create a bond, a friendship between themselves and the humans of the Cities of the Twelve Swords. Among those gifts, apparently, was a scepter. Though the portions of our histories that describe this scepter in greater detail are lost, what does remain tells of a beautiful natural object, woven of plants and other items of the land. The histories claim that this scepter was powerfully enchanted to bring health to the citizens of the cities."
"And this is the object we seek?" Vambran asked. He felt skeptical. Who's to say this is the right item and not something else, something lost even to the annals of history? he wondered.
Serille shrugged. "It is the only reference to anything with the power to heal that we know of," she said. "If that is not the magic you seek, then why would the Dolphin Lord bring us together?"
Why, indeed, Vambran thought, remembering his swim with the girl earlier.
"I believe the item she describes is the one we are looking for," Arbeenok said, swimming beside the two of them. "I cannot explain it with clarity, but everything she described feels right with my own intuitions."
"Well, even if it is the right one," Vambran said, feeling a sense of gloom wash over him, "we don't have any idea where it is now. A leader of the city could have taken it home with him, could have placed it in some vault somewhere, or it could have shattered during use," he continued. "Jhaamdath stretched all along the coast, just as Chondath does now. Without some sense of reference, that fable doesn't give us much."
"Oh, the histories tell more," Serille said, her smile bright. "The elves chronicled their visit in detail, for they wanted history to understand why the cataclysm came to be. The elves gathered in the midst of Naarkolyth, the largest of the twelve cities, in a great palace, and met with the king. He accepted the gifts the elves had brought and sent them away, promising better relations, but they were empty words, as we now know. The elves believed that the king, fearing a trick, had the gifts sealed away in a vault beneath the same audience chamber where they had been bestowed. He never once took them out and put them to use. Two years later, after more bickering and slaughter, Jhaamdath was wiped from the face of Toril."
"So we know it's in the center of the city of Naarkolyth," Vambran said, imagining what it must have been like in those final hours, as an immense tidal wave scoured the coastline clean. Turning to Arbeenok, the lieutenant asked, "Do you suppose this great palace chamber is the same as in your vision?"
The druid nodded. "I believe so."
"Then you'll know we're there when we actually get there," the mercenary quipped.
After her tale-spinning, Serille took the opportunity to play, cavorting around Vambran, sneaking up beneath or behind him and tickling him when he wasn't expecting it. The lieutenant took some delight in her affections and tried to chase her down once or twice, but she was a far better swimmer than he and easily evaded his lunges. At one point, after she had come at the mercenary officer from above and wrapped her hands across his eyes as if to play guess-who, Vambran noticed one of the male elves scowling at him. As soon as Vambran returned the look, though, the sea elf turned away and swam out a little distance, as though watching for trouble.
I've seen that kind of scowl before, the lieutenant thought, rolling his eyes. He swam over to Serille and said pointedly, "A couple of your companions are acting a little possessive of you, and don't seem to like our carrying on. Is there something I should know?"
Serille's eyes narrowed the slightest bit, but Vambran wasn't certain whether her irritation was directed at him and his blunt question or at the other sea elf's resentment. She asked, "Which one?" in a very serious and somewhat icy tone. When Vambran pointed out the fellow, the girl swam directly over to him and began a rather one-sided conversation, with quite a bit of gesticulating to accompany it. On more than one occasion, the male turned to look at Vambran, but Serille quickly dragged his attention back to her. When the discussion was finished, she swam back to the lieutenant and said, "That's Ishuliga. He doesn't think I should be consorting with surface dwellers. I changed his mind, and he shouldn't be a problem any more." Then she swam away, toward the front of the procession, apparently no longer in a playful mood.
Vambran considered swimming over to Ishuliga himself, to try to settle things in a more comfortable manner, but he decided against it, at least for the time being. If a better opportunity arises, then I might, he decided. With that decision, the mercenary forgot about the matter and returned his attention to the journey at hand.
The sea elves and their visitors traveled for several hours before they arrived at a spot overlooking a region of rough and rocky terrain. Vambran studied it and noted that the contrast between that area and the rest of the seabed seemed remarkable. The idea occurred to him that perhaps it was debris from the great tidal wave. He wondered if certain parts of the coast of Jhaamdath had been harder hit or were more susceptible to destruction than others. It made sense to him that regions along the coast that were formed of loose soil would settle more evenly once dragged into the water, while rocky terrain would form a more uneven landscape-or rather seascape-such as the scene they faced at the moment.
"This is where Naarkolyth is buried," Serille said, swimming closer to Vambran and Arbeenok. "A couple of locations can be found where fissures open into the depths of the ruins, but most of the buildings were crushed beneath all of the earth that was dragged off the land with it."
"I wish we had some sort of map of the city," Vambran lamented. "It might help us determine the layout once we get down there."
Serille chuckled. "No map from the surface would aid you now," she said. "The city was literally tumbled down upon itself. What little survived was most often turned upside down or sideways. Whole sections of the city were rearranged as the waves dragged it out to sea. It is simply a different place."
"What should we expect in the way of trouble?" Vambran asked. "You said these were dangerous waters."
"They are. Koalinth live in the cracks and crevices of this part of the Selmal Basin, brutes who wage war upon one another almost as often as they attack my own people. They are not overly bright, but they prefer overwhelming numbers. We would do better not to have to face them at all, but if we cannot avoid a skirmish with them, do not show them any hesitation, any fear. That's what inspires them to continue to fight."
Vambran glanced over at Arbeenok, who was nodding. "They are distant cousins to hobgoblins in the hills above," the druid said. "They fight with similar tactics."
Vambran found himself wishing he had his sword. He looked at the trident in his hands. I'll make do, he decided. "All right," he said at last, "Lead on."
"We cannot risk light here," Serille said, turning to begin the descent. "Not until we reach the mouth of the fissures. We will attract too much attention to ourselves. So until then, stay close so you don't get lost."
The procession of sea elves and surface visitors began to swim out over the edge of the continental shelf, following the steeper slope as it angled down, deeper into the gloom below and away from the sunlight. The rough and tumble appearance of the sea floor put Vambran on edge, for he imagined a horde of swimming, swarming hobgoblins springing out of every gorge, charging from around every craggy outcropping. Hiding places were plentiful, and because the sea elves had explained that they should stay close to the sea floor rather than risking visibility by swimming high, it felt as if they were ripe for an ambush.
Yet nothing attacked the group and they continued on, swimming downward, deeper than Vambran could have managed on his magic alone. The pressure would have taken its toll on his body long before, without the aid of the necklace Serille had given him. Even so, he was beginning to feel the effects of the gloom, for the water was growing colder, cut off as it was from the warmth of the sun shining on the surface.
This is the sea nightmares are made of, the mercenary realized. This is what the sailors imagine when their ships are slowly receding beneath the storm-tossed waves. They both love and fear it, and this is why.
As Vambran paddled along, keeping an eye on the rocks below him, he passed a particularly unusual outcropping. It was covered in brown coral, not nearly as colorful as the species that grew in shallow water. The coral was interspersed with unusual anemones and strange, frondlike things. But what really caught the lieutenant's attention was the shape of the undersea promontory. It had the distinct likeness of a broad, round dome, and though the growth of the sea hid it well, he thought he could see columns, evenly spaced and perfectly parallel, running from one side of the dome. Its orientation suggested that it was lying on its side, but Vambran could easily imagine it as a central structure in a broad plaza somewhere on the surface. A temple, perhaps, or a civic building with steps surrounding it.
The mercenary stopped, peering, for he was suddenly certain that he had spotted an opening, a tiny crevasse, where a wide doorway might once have been. He rubbed his eyes and swam closer, fighting the gloom. Yes, it was definitely symmetrical, and centered.
A way in!
Vambran popped his head up to call to the rest of the group, to tell them of his find, and discovered to his great dismay that he was alone. Serille, Arbeenok, and the other sea elves had vanished. Frantically, Vambran began swimming forward again, looking for his companions. He did not want to lose track of the discovery he had made, but the thought of being left alone in such a dismal, murky location made his heart race with fear.
Fool! Vambran berated himself. What did she tell you about getting lost?
The mercenary glanced back once to see if he could still make out the building behind him, and he froze in the water. A huge dark shadow was approaching, slightly above him, blotting out all the light. It seemed to swim lazily back and forth, but as it got closer, its shape became clear.
It was a shark, and the biggest Vambran could ever have imagined, easily the size of a small ship. Vambran was awestruck even as his heart pounded in his chest.
The shark suddenly accelerated and came straight for him.
Vambran nearly dropped his trident as he turned and dived as quickly as he could downward, toward the uneven formations of rock below. The shark, a gargantuan thing that seemed to go on forever, altered its course slightly, still bearing down on him. Pulling through the water with all his might, Vambran was still not fast enough to evade the thing.
Opening its jaws wide, the enormous shark engulfed him.