Under fallen stars

XVII

9 Kythorn, the Year of the Gauntlet

The elf looked at the dwarf in obvious disdain, dismissing him in a glance. Upon closer inspection, Pacys realized the elf s skin color wasn't ebony as a drow's was, but a very dark blue with infrequent white patches.

"You're him, aren't you?" the elf asked. "The one who will come to be called the Taleweaver?"

Pacys listened to the accent the elf used, finding it like none other he'd ever encountered. As a bard, he'd trained his ear for dialects and accents. They were part of the most colorful tools a bard had, able to carry emotion and character in a monologue. It was softer and more sibilant, as if used to carrying great distances with very little effort.

"I am Pacys the Bard," he replied, "and I've been called many things."

"But soon to be the Taleweaver."

"Maybe. No man may know exactly what lies in his future." Pacys played his cards close to his vest. Narros had also spoken of those who would try to prevent him from attaining his goals.

"No," the elf replied, "but a few are sometimes chosen by the gods to get a glimpse of those possible futures." He ' paused, then added, "You have no need for alarm."

"Aye, and ye speak prettily," Khlinat spat roughly, "but meself, I've found a man sometimes talks differently when he gets the chance to hold a knife to yer throat."

"I heard your song," the elf said. "I knew I had to come see you for myself-to discover if you were the one."

"You knew me from my song?" Pacys asked.

The elf nodded. "I'm something of a minstrel myself, and I was brought up on the lore of my people. Your presence has been predicted in our histories."

"Whose histories?" Pacys asked.

The elf smiled at him haughtily. "I am Taareen, of the alu'tel'quessir. More directly of late, I am of Faenasuor."

Pacys laid a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "This is my good friend Khlinat Ironeater, a sailor and traveling companion on this journey."

Taareen inclined his head slightly. "A pleasure to meet you, warrior."

"Aye," Khlinat replied gruffly. "I guess we'll be after seeing the truth of that, eh?"

The elf took no offense. "May I come closer?"

Pacys gestured toward the campfire.

Taareen smiled. "Not too close. The flames can be hazardous to one who dwells in the embrace of Seros."

"Seros?" Khlinat asked. "I thought ye said ye were of Faenasuor."

"Seros," Pacys told him, digging into the lore he knew of the Sea of Fallen Stars, "is what they call the Inner Sea."

"Actually, it's the term for the world under the sea," Taareen stated as he sat on the ground across the campfire from them. "It came into use after Aryselmalyr fell-over a thousand years ago. In our language it means 'the embracing life.'"

"Aryselmalyr was the empire of the sea elves," Pacys told Khlinat when the dwarf looked up at him with suspicion on his broad face. "Several of the elves took up the sea life after the Crown Wars."

Harumphing in obvious displeasure, Khlinat sat apart from Pacys, giving himself a clear field of action should it become necessary. He laid his axes on the ground in front of him.

"Do you know of Faenasuor?" Taareen asked.

"I've heard of it," Pacys replied. "The city was thought lost when Aryselmalyr was destroyed."

He had heard songs of the elven empire's destruction when an undersea plateau shoved up without warning from the sea bottom and killed nearly eighty thousand inhabitants. The city lay covered over at the bottom of the Sea of Fallen Stars for a thousand years, until it was excavated seventy years ago.

"I've never been there," Pacys said.

"No," Taareen replied. "As a culture, the sea elves are friendly enough to humans, but only relate to them when there is need."

"Doesn't sound much different than elves anywhere ye go," Khlinat offered.

"I wouldn't know. I've never left Seros." Taareen's eyes fell on Pacys's yarting. "May I?"

Pacys nodded, then rose and passed the yarting over.

The sea elf took it gratefully. His hands searched out the strings a little unconfidently, then he fit his fingers into the frets and stroked the strings. Music filled the campsite, and it was clear and true. After a moment, evidently feeling more at home with the instrument, Taareen lifted his voice in song.

The words were alien to Pacys's ears. He knew some of the elven dialects and languages, but this one wasn't familiar to him. Still, the emotion of the song was raw and throbbing, speaking of loss and redemption, of brighter days ahead. He finished quietly, but the words still echoed through the trees, vanishing the way the bright orange embers from the campfire did when they tried to touch the sky.

"That was beautiful," Pacys said.

"Aye," Khlinat said, tears glittering in his beard. "I've not had the pleasure of hearing the like before. Ye may be an elf, Elf, but ye have the heart of a dwarf."

Taareen bowed his head in thanks, then glanced up at Pacys. "That was your song, Bard Pacys. The song of the Taleweaver's arrival in Seros."

"You just composed that?" Pacys asked in astonishment.

"No. I've but mean skills, and songcrafting takes me a long time. That song is ancient," Taareen said. "It is one of the few things that was carried from Aryselmalyr when so much of our history was lost."

A feathery chill touched Pacys between the shoulder blades. "How could they know all those years ago?"

"How could they not?" Taareen asked. "The Taker existed thousands of years before that. Knowledge of him has not come to us only recently, as it has to you."

"You said you knew me by my song." The thought troubled Pacys. "Does that mean the song is not new as I thought it to be?" The possibility of him simply rewriting a song that had already been in existence ate at his confidence.

"No, your song is new," Taareen answered simply. "In our stories, it was said the Taleweaver would appear near reclaimed Faenasuor. Imagine the horror of those who lived then who realized that Faenasuor would first have to be lost in order to be reclaimed."

Pacys did, and the weight was staggering.

"When the empire was lost, it was believed that by leaving Faenasuor buried beneath the rubble the Taker wouldn't be allowed to return to the world." Taareen shook his head and his fingers began to pick out a soft, low tune on the yarting. "As if that would seal him in whatever limbo he'd been in."

"They realized in the end it was a false hope at best," Khlinat said.

"Yes, but the Taker wasn't the only reason they left Faenasuor buried. Part of it was because no one wanted to see what had been lost. They didn't want to remember. After a thousand years, the realization that if Faenasuor didn't exist, if the archives that were buried there weren't reclaimed, the Taleweaver would never be able to arrive there."

"But just hearing my song," Pacys said, "that couldn't be the only thing that led you to believe I was the one legend names as Taleweaver."

"Do you have your doubts about who you are?" Taareen asked.

Pacys thought about the question. To answer no was almost egotistical, but to say yes was to acknowledge the possibility existed that Narros had been wrong. The song Taareen played echoed in his head, summoning up images of Waterdeep and Baldur's Gate, and the young sailor he and Khlinat had only just met who'd had such considerable influence on their lives.

"No," he answered finally. "I don't doubt."

"And neither do I," the sea elf said, handing the yarting back across. "In the legends, we were told the Taleweaver could swim beneath the oceans as easily as he strode across the land. It was the only way he could witness all the battles to come. I see that you're a surface dweller."

"I have a gift," Pacys said, extending his arm and displaying the emerald bracelet Narros had given him back in Waterdeep. While wearing the bracelet, Pacys could breathe underwater, never feel the pressure of the depths, and move as easily as he would crossing a room.

"And your friend?"

"Has none," Khlinat growled. "And why would something like that be necessary?"

"Because," Taareen answered, "I must take you to Faenasuor that you may learn the legends of the Taker as we know them. It has been foretold."

Excitement flared through Pacys. If there had been any humans ever to enter the city of Faenasuor, there had been precious few.

"We can take care of your friend," Taareen offered. "Some of the things we trade with the surface world are potions which allow surface dwellers to breathe underwater. It would be our honor to aid you."

"When could we go?" Pacys asked.

Khlinat shifted uneasily, obviously not happy about the thought of visiting an undersea city.

"We can continue on to Starmantle by land,"Taareen said. "I know a man there who deals in such potions. It won't be hard to strike a deal for one. After we are in Faenasuor it won't be a problem to keep your friend well supplied."

"Then let's break camp," Pacys said. "I know I won't be getting any more sleep tonight anyway, and dawn can't be more than an hour away."

He was left with the feeling that time was running out. How much difference did days, weeks, or months make when faced with an opponent who had thousands of years to plan?