“He?” Lei cried over the wind. She gazed up at the clouds for a moment before she realized. “The Devourer.”

  Thaask said nothing. A massive wave rose out of the darkness, and Lei instinctively raised a hand to shield herself. Thaask just watched as the wave shattered against the Lyrandar stormbreaker wards, leaving only a dense mist.

  Lei lowered her hand, slightly embarrassed. “I finished the sound-stone,” she said, reaching into her pack and producing the carved sphere.

  The sahuagin’s eyes were pale and golden, set far apart on his wedge-shaped head. He fixed her with one eye and held out a hand.

  She pressed the stone into his palm. It was designed to draw music from the mind of the bearer, and as Thaask took the stone Lei heard faint strains over the wind and crashing waves—an eerie wail, the sound of glass and water. The sahuagin closed his eyes, listening in rapture. Then he hurled the sphere out over the water. For an instant she could still hear the music, then song and stone were swallowed by the darkness.

  Surprise and anger were balanced against a lurching sense of loss. Lei had spent days working on the stone, shaping each groove with her mind and soul, and for an instant she felt as if she were the one flying into the maelstrom.

  As the strange vertigo swept over her senses, another wave struck the ship and Lei slipped on the slick wood, sliding toward the railing. A strong hand caught her shoulder. Thaask was still facing the water, watching her from the corner of an eye as he held her steady.

  Vertigo was replaced by comforting anger, and Lei knocked his arm away with a furious gesture. “Why did you do that?” she shouted. “I spent days on that stone—”

  “When he hungers, loss is inevitable. The wise choose the loss.” If Thaask noticed her anger, he chose not to acknowledge it. His eyes remained on the sky.

  “You threw the stone in the water because you’re afraid of the storm?”

  Now Thaask looked at her, golden eyes glittering in the lightning-flash. “No fear. Respect. Sacrifice is loss. We make our sacrifice in faith, we choose what is lost. Challenge and he chooses.” He looked back at the sky.

  Lei opened her mouth then closed it again. The storm did seem to be abating, the wind dying down. Coincidence, no doubt, but she gave whispered thanks to Arawai all the same.

  “The reefs ahead are dangerous enough when he is calm,” Thaask said. “Your ship would not have survived his anger.”

  “So? I thought your people would loot the wreckage?”

  Thaask turned back toward her. “You made the gift. You kept your word, and I serve the memory of those gone before.”

  For a moment they stood silently, watching the quieting waves. Lightning still flickered on the horizon, but the seas were calm once more.

  “I still don’t understand,” Lei said at last. “How can you worship the Devourer? In my land we respect Arawai, the goddess of the land. The Devourer—all he does is destroy.”

  “You create a goddess where none is needed. You have your gods of war and peace, but peace is what comes when war stays his hand. He is the fury of the storm, but he is with us in this calm. We were born from his belly, and when he hungers he will consume us again. It is the way of life: shape the current as you will; it will run its course in time.”

  “He’ll kill you if you don’t give up the things you love?”

  The sahuagin turned to face her fully, and for a moment he opened his mouth, revealing a double row of razor teeth. “Do you share the faith of your forebears, child?”

  His voice was louder, deeper, and Lei instinctively took a step back. At that moment she knew how smaller fish felt in the presence of the shark.

  “Are you faithful to their ways?” Thaask hissed, taking a step forward.

  “Yes,” Lei said, holding her ground and staring at the sahuagin. “The Sovereign Host. I was taught to give thanks for their blessings.”

  “And to fear the dark, yes? The six? The Devourer. The Darkness. The One Unknown?”

  “To resist those things,” Lei replied, mustering her indignation. “Death, corruption, and chaos—yes, I was taught to stand against them.”

  Thaask brought his talons together in a sudden movement, creating a loud, sharp click. “You would not exist without them. Passion and madness, these bring change, and you are a child of chaos.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Anger and curiosity warred within her. Part of her wanted to turn and go, to leave this savage who’d thrown her treasure into the sea, but she’d never actually spoken to anyone who worshipped one of the Dark Six before and interest lingered.

  “You know of the force that brings change? The One who Remains Unknown?”

  Lei considered this. “The Traveler?” Of the Dark Six, this deity was the most enigmatic; the tales could not even agree on form or gender. The Traveler was said to walk the world, spreading chaos in his—or her—wake. Many old traditions of hospitality were designed to placate the unknown Traveler.

  “Yes,” Thaask hissed, letting his mouth hang open again just long enough to show his teeth. “Traveler. In the first days of my people, before we learned the rites of the Devourer, we were the slaves of a terrible force in the deep waters. A few implored the gods for mercy, for an end to this servitude. The One who Remains Unknown came to them in the depths and offered a sanctuary. With her guidance they wove a disk of roots and sat upon it, floating atop the waters.”

  “They made a boat?” Lei had never heard of sahuagin boats before.

  Thaask nodded. “The waters are our home, and at that time there was no land. None had thought to rise into the air, and they never would have. The god’s gift was the idea they could not see on their own.”

  “What happened?”

  “The deep masters could not follow them. They were safe, but time above the waters sapped the strength of the people. Their scales fell and lungs grew weak.” Thaask cocked his head, studying her. “The Devourer spoke to those who remained below, and with his strength they overcame the deep masters. Those who had fled could never return. They gathered floating roots and clots of mud, and slowly they built larger and larger shelters, until eventually those shelters took root and became lands. The world was divided into the nations of land and water, and so it has been to this day.”

  “So we’re second cousins?” Lei considered the story for a moment. “But … because these people asked for help and trusted the Traveler, they ended up being banished from their homeland forever. Wouldn’t they have been better off waiting with the others?”

  “Yes, but there would have been no land above to bring profit to those below. The world you know would not exist. You would not exist. The powers of your six carry pain and danger, but these are the forces that shape the world, and many who breathe the air know this, those who spawned you among them.”

  “What?” Lei’s hand dropped inside the one of the wide pockets of her pouch, and with a thought her staff was in her hand. Lei heard the faintest moan; it might have been the wind, or the soft cry of the darkwood dryad. “What do you mean by that?”

  Thaask took a step back, keeping his teeth in view. “I promised you words in exchange for your stone, child, and the Devourer has claimed the stone. I have work to do, and you will have no more words from me. This vessel will leave the Teeth by tomorrow, and we will not meet again.” He took a step sideways, standing to the rail. “Why don’t you ask your gods?”

  He slid over the railing in a blur of scales and leather. There was a splash as he struck the water, and an ululating cry from below—the call to summon his mount, perhaps.

  When Lei reached the railing, the sahuagin was nowhere to be seen.

  Thaask was as good as his word, and the following evening the ship arrived at the port of Stormreach. Lei had finished her work, Lakashtai had emerged from her meditations, and all four of the travelers gathered on the deck to watch as the ship approached the colony.

  The shore of Xen’drik was nearly as inhospitable as the Straits of Shargon. Stone columns and massive splinters of rock jutted from the water, and the coast was a sheer cliff. To the southwest, Daine could see a break in the cliffs, a jagged hole miles across. It looked anything but natural; it was as if a giant hammer had come down and blasted a gap in the rock, and knowing the legends of this shattered land, that may have been exactly what had happened.

  It soon became clear that this unnatural gap was their destination. A handful of fishing boats were scattered across the rocky bay, and as they approached, a galley of an unfamiliar design came into view. The vessel was long and narrow, with a curving prow that rose high out of the water, and its sail was painted with a complex design of blue and silver lines—a dizzying labyrinth that drew the eye into its depths.

  “An ill omen,” Lakashtai said, watching the vessel head out to sea.

  “How so?” Daine said.

  “That is a Riedran ship, and the people of that land are the servants of the Inspired—and thus, the allies of our enemy. Most likely it is mere coincidence we see it here, for Riedra has as much interest in the wealth of Xen’drik as any other land. The ship is heading away, but I fear to think what it may have left behind.”

  Lei shook her head. “Nightmares, brain eaters, sinister agents of doom—don’t you ever have anything cheerful to say?”

  “In times such as these, I prefer dark truths to pleasant deception,” Lakashtai replied cooly.

  A moment later, the colony itself came into view. Compared to the majestic towers of Sharn, this was an unruly sprawl. Buildings were scattered across the coastline as if dropped by a child. Every building was unique. Some reflected the traditions of different cultures; Daine spotted a building constructed in the Flamic style popular in Thrane and another that seemed to be the work of goblin hands. Stranger than the designs were the materials that were used. There were a few solid houses that might have been plucked from the streets of Fairhaven or Metrol, but many were odd patchwork buildings, using mismatched pieces of stone, chunks of driftwood, or what appeared to be rosy crystal. As they drew closer, Daine could see that a number of the structures incorporated pieces of ships’ hulls, undoubtedly scavenged from vessels that foundered in the deadly harbor.

  “The designs are most unusual,” Pierce said, studying the coast. “Have there been many wars to cause such devastation?”

  “This is not the result of battle,” Lakashtai replied. “Stormreach is one of the few safe landings on this edge of Xen’drik—and safe is most definitely a relative term. As the people of Eberron took to exploring the seas, many ships were broken on this shore, and the survivors made their way to this place. In time people mastered the seas, and many found this place a welcome refuge. Smugglers and pirates sought a haven from the strength of Galifar, while explorers and scholars yearned for the treasures of legend. In recent years, prospectors have found the land to be rich in dragonshards and other valuable substances, such as the crystal material you see in some of the buildings. The dragonmarked houses came to Stormreach, and the princes of Khorvaire and Sarlona followed in their wake.”

  “Which nation claims the land?” Pierce said.

  “Stormreach is its own sovereign state, and its lords are descended from the first settlers, but the laws are loose here, and you will find that justice is even harder to find than it is in Sharn. Each lord has his own guards, who do his bidding. The commoner and the traveler must make their own way in the world—force and guile are all that these people respect. We walk a dangerous path, and it will only get worse from here.”

  “I am pleased to hear it,” said Pierce. Daine shot a quizzical glance in his direction, but the warforged had nothing more to say.

  Soon the Kraken’s Wake pulled into the harbor, and sailors on the piers guided it to an empty slip. There were ships of many nations scattered across the bay. Daine saw a squat dwarven yacht, with a gilded sail and a jewel-encrusted dragon on the prow. There were a number of gnome merchant vessels, which seemed like delicate toys next to the larger Brelish freighters. Next was a black ship—an elven vessel from Aerenal, formed from darkwood and adorned with skulls. An actual tree sprouted in place of a mast, with a web of gossamer sails spread throughout its branches.

  “Livewood,” Lei said, pointing to it. “Remember? Sustained by magic. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a dryad in it.”

  “And the skulls?” Daine said.

  “It’s a common tradition among the sailors of the Aerenal islands,” Lakashtai said. “Rather than rest on land, they prefer to have their bodies bound to the vessel they served on. If the proper rituals are used, the spirit can be bound to the skull, allowing the ship’s priest to speak to the sailors and ask for advice.”

  “Charming,” Daine said.

  Moments later, the gangplank was lowered. The travelers already had their gear prepared; Lakashtai and the captain exchanged pleasantries and gold as Lei, Daine, and Pierce made their way across the plank.

  “Solid land,” Lei said, swaying slightly. “I never thought I could be so happy and so nauseous at the same time.”

  Lakashtai led them onto the street, which was loosely cobbled with an odd assortment of stones. The population was even more diverse than that of Sharn, and Daine could hear shouted conversations in three different languages. A pair of ragged goblins were arguing with a perfumed gnome woman dressed in bright silks; as the travelers passed by, the goblins drew knives and a gem-tipped wand appeared in the hand of the gnome. No one else spared a glance for the encounter, and Lakashtai caught Daine’s arm even as he reached for his sword.

  “This is not a place to go looking for trouble,” she said.

  He ground his teeth and pulled free from her grip but kept walking. A moment later, they heard the fwoosh! of magical fire and the distinctive smell of burning goblin.

  “Do we have a plan, Lakashtai,” Daine said, “or are we just walking the streets until we run afoul of the local gnomes?”

  “First, we need shelter,” Lakashtai said. “Then we need a guide. As you’ve seen, the streets of Stormreach are no place for strangers. As for your affliction, that will take time. I doubt the answer lies within the city itself, but someone here may hold the key. There are a few people I planned on speaking to when I thought I was coming alone. They know much of the mysteries of the land, and this would be the best place to start.”

  “Will we be staying with one of these friends of yours?” Daine said. He kept his eyes on the crowd; a tall man wrapped in a hooded black cloak caught his eye.

  “None of these people are my friends,” Lakashtai said, a smile drifting across her lips, “and I think it would be most unwise to put ourselves in their debt.”

  “Great,” Lei put in, “so when it comes to shelter, do you even know where you’re going?”

  “I have a general idea,” Lakashtai said. “While I have never been here, others of my kind have. Through our shared link to Kashtai, I can draw on traces of their memories. I think we’ll find a reasonable inn down here.”

  “Great.” Daine caught Pierce’s eye and shifted his head; the warforged nodded slightly and drifted back to take up the rear. “Good food, you think?”

  “I am afraid I am not qualified to judge such things,” Lakashtai replied. “I am certain you would consider my diet to be quite bland.”

  As Lakashtai was talking, Daine bumped into Lei. When she glanced at him, Daine rubbed the palm of his left hand with his index and forefinger. Web, he mouthed silently.

  Lei looked surprised but slid a hand into one of the pockets of her pack, coming up with a small clay disk.

  “What’s Kashtai have to say right now?” Daine said.

  “It is not so simple, Daine. She does not speak in words. Her memories … they simply rise to the surface when needed. She is part of me.”

  “Well, not to question her guidance, but let’s try a shortcut.” Daine put an arm on Lakashtai’s shoulder and steered her down an alleyway off the main street.

  Lakashtai resisted at first, then shrugged and allowed Daine to lead the way. With a careful glance back Daine saw that the man in the dark cloak had followed as well—and he had a friend, likewise shrouded in black, with the distinctive shape of a shortsword visible in the folds of his cloak.

  Not a problem, Daine thought. Two we can handle. Just a little further.

  He was prepared for two, even three. He hadn’t counted on five.

  Just as Daine was preparing to turn on the two men shadowing them, three new figures stepped out of the shadows that lay ahead. They were dressed alike in loose black cloaks and robes hemmed in labyrinthine patterns of silver thread, faces hidden beneath hoods and silver veils. The man in the lead held a long, curved blade that appeared to be carved from a single piece of glass, and there was a glitter of chainmail beneath his cloak. The woman at his side held a blade of steel. These two were blocking the alleyway, but Daine caught a glimpse of the woman behind them and didn’t like what he saw. She carried no weapons but held a crystal in one hand. Daine knew enough to recognize someone used to using magic in battle.

  Daine cursed. These back alleys were a maze, and he’d chosen at random—how could these strangers have predicted his path?

  “Lakashtai?” he said. “From now on, we’re letting Kashtai choose the path.”

  Servants of the darkness,” Lakashtai hissed, her voice even colder than usual. “You know not what you do. Forsake your foolish path and turn away from your masters, while your souls are yet your own.” A wave of coercive force accompanied her words—even Daine felt a momentary compulsion to do as she commanded, but if the strangers were affected by her words or her power, they gave no sign of it.

  “It is you who have turned away from the light,” called the man with the crystal sword. His voice was soft and clear, with an unfamiliar accent that gave a sibilance to his words. “We did not come to this place in search of you, lost one, but my lady came to me in dreams and warned me of your arrival.”

 

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