Jherek felt his stomach turn small and cold, wondering what she'd seen. After living with Madame litaar as she gave divinations all those years, he believed in such magic, "I don't know how far in the future, but at some point, you're going to cross swords with Falkane the Salt Wolf. It will be at sea, but it's a sea I've not seen."

Suddenly dizzy, feeling like the deck itself had dropped out from beneath him, Jherek made himself remain standing.

"That surprises you?" she asked.

"Aye."

"Why?"

"I'm just a sailor, no king's man or corsair to pursue the pirates of the Nelanther."

Her eyes examined his face. "It might not come true," she said finally. "The vision felt like it was sometime in the future, but the events aren't set. If you stay on your present course, I feel it will happen, but visions aren't written in stone. Good night. I'll see you in the morning."

Jherek watched her walk away, reveling in the sight of her while at the same time feeling more wary than ever. After leaving the dishes with the cook, he took himself amidships and hung out a hammock. He'd stayed in the cabin below decks for the last three nights, sharing the space with other travelers and some of the ship's crew. Tonight, though, he wanted to sleep out under the stars, hoping it would clear his head.

He laid on the hammock and draped the heavy blanket Madame litaar had made and he'd gotten from his traveler's kit over him. The wind slipped across his face. He wondered about the ship's mage, wishing he had Malorrie there to talk to him about the way she made him feel and the confusing things she said and did.

He thought about the vision of his father she'd said she had. He didn't doubt that she'd had the vision, but he did question whether it was going to come true. There was no reason his path would cross his father's ever again. If it did, he had no doubt that blood would be spilled and one of them might die.

The last thought he had, though, was of what might be waiting for him at Baldur's Gate.

Seated atop the royal flier, skimming through the depths at top speed, Laaqueel looked out over King Huaanton's village. It was spread across the rocky seabed three hundred feet and more below the surface, located between the Nelanthers and the Moonshaes, as the surface dwellers termed the ground above water. By Huaanton's reckoning, those areas were still part of his domain, just held by invaders. Iakhovas, Laaqueel knew, had promised to bring those regions under Huaanton's control soon.

The terrain was broken, peaking and gliding in mismatched sections that left troughs and valleys scattered over it. The deepest section of it was the canyon that ran through the ocean bed. Perpetual murk hung over the area, masking the pale blue light that actually made it to that depth. Surface dwellers, even with their magic potions and items that allowed them to breathe underwater and withstand the crushing depths, wouldn't see the village with their weak eyes unless they were on top of it. By that time, sharks, sahuagin guards, and traps all stood ready to kill them.

The village was huge, lining both sides of the immense canyon. Buildings crafted of great blocks of stone sat barnacle-covered on both sides. Despite all the killing that had gone on by each sahuagin king who'd held court at the site, there still existed the rumor that the buildings had once been on the surface, and that immense changes had shaken all of Toril in the past.

The flier, propelled by sahuagin swimmers gripping the t-bars underneath, changed its glide approach to a steeper angle and slid down into the canyon. Dozens of sahuagin dwellings, looking like bumps and abnormalities, clung to the canyon walls. Sharks and sahuagin guards lounged in the cracks and crevices leading into tunneled labyrinths that honeycombed the village. More tunnels, likewise filled with traps and guards, twisted and threaded through the canyon walls and beyond on both sides. Over seven thousand sahuagin lived there.

The sahuagin tiller guided his craft down to the bottom of the canyon, then cut sharply into a defile that looked like a shadow against the uneven floor. They burst through into the darkness. Even with her vision, Laaqueel was hard-pressed to see through the gloom. It would take a little time for her eyes to fully acclimate to the new darkness. Even attacking sahuagin would be at a disadvantage to the palace guards inside.

The flier leveled out and slowed, easing into the tunnel the manta almost filled from side to side. The tunnel walls were slick from usage. Dozens of guards filled the receiving chamber, and Laaqueel knew traps covered every inch of the area. The water felt colder inside the passage. In all her life, she'd only been to the king's village once before, and never through the tunnels that led to the main palace.

Iakhovas sat beside Laaqueel in the flier, concentrating on another of the artifacts that his search parties had brought to him of late. The wizard didn't appear to be impressed by being invited to the royal village at all. The attack on Waterdeep was six days in the past, and Iakhovas was already planning his next steps.

The malenti was aware of how much the surface world was talking about the attack because Iakhovas had assigned her to gather information. She'd resented being taken from the village. From so far away she couldn't watch the wizard as closely as she want to. She was getting the feeling that Iakhovas was spending more time away, too, maybe on the surface. His casual disregard for all the history surrounding them now made her angry. "You should be more respectful," she said. He lifted his head from the object he was studying, fixing her with his one-eyed gaze. "I bid you to take care in what you choose to say, little malenti. It doesn't take much effort to detect a note of insubordination in your voice." She swallowed her anger but didn't break eye contact. "A true sahuagin would feel reverent about this place. It was the first home of the sahuagin." "How came you to this belief?" "It's what I've been told."

"Then it would probably shatter your certitude to know that everything you've heard about that is a fabrication." The announcement was like a sudden, unexpected slap across the face. Before Laaqueel could figure out how she wanted to reply and still ensure her own survival, the tunnel took a sudden turn to the left and up. At the end of the new tunnel, the largest clam Laaqueel had ever seen opened at their approach.

Fifty or more sahuagin guards, dressed in harnesses bearing the royal seal, a white shark set against the dark blue of the ocean, filled the area. Their tridents were black, cut from the shafts of obsidian that were mined from the veins created by underwater volcanic eruptions in the area hundreds of years ago. Serviceable and distinct, the weapon of each sahuagin guard of the Royal Black Tridents was never out of the bearer's hand from the time he was given it to the time he died. Even then, it passed from the guard to his hand-picked successor. They were ruled only by the king and the nine official Royal Tridents.

The sahuagin guards bristled, flanking the flier as Iakhovas gave the command for it to stop. In a heartbeat, the flier pulled to a full halt and hung suspended in the air, the fins of the sahuagin below maintaining the distance above the cavern floor.

One of the guards moved forward and set his trident deliberately on the front of the flier. He was one of the most fearsome sahuagin Laaqueel had ever seen. Scars lined his powerful torso and one of his ears had been bitten off in battle. Bite marks from another sahuagin pinched up his right cheek, giving him a mocking, cruel smile that revealed a few fangs. The flesh had turned dead white from the injury.