"I'm sorry for the interruption," Narros said. "Alyyx has her mother's curiosity."

"It's quite all right," Pacys said and gave the merchild a smile. "I've always loved children. I don't mind them being here."

"Well enough." Narros spoke in his own tongue, then slapped his powerful tail fin gently on the floor.

The little merchild arced through the water, fast as a dolphin. In the blink of an eye she twisted and managed to come to a thumping rest tucked safely inside her father's arms. Contented, she thrust a thumb into her mouth and watched Pacys with wild-eyed innocence.

"I apologize," Narros said. "She's never seen a human this close before."

"Don't apologize," Pacys replied. "I've made most of my living by my own curiosity, or teasing it out of others."

The young merboy entered the room more cautiously, maintaining his distance from the bard.

Pacys continued plucking the yarting, listening to the refrain that had popped into his head. The melody fit so completely with the part of the song he'd figured out regarding Waterdeep he knew that he was on the right path. The confirmation excited him, making him forget some of the aches and pains he suffered from over his last few days of hard labor.

Narros picked up the thread of his tale effortlessly, a born storyteller himself. "The evil is a creature," he said, "the like of which has never been seen. Our legends have it that once he swam with gods in the world of the seas, though not a god himself. Once, he was a predator, with not much more in his life than his nature. At that time he swam with Sekolah."

"The sahuagin shark god?" Pacys asked.

"Yes. Our tales hold it that this creature was one of the first in the waters of this world. Mermen had not filled the seas, nor had Sekolah shaken the sahuagin from their shell as yet. This abomination curried the favor of the gods, lusting after more power for himself. It's said that Umberlee herself evidenced an interest in him for a time, then took him as a consort."

"Of all the tales I've learned in my life," Pacys said, "I've never heard any about this."

"Listen to the stories of the sea people again," Narros said. "Sometimes he's referred to as a being or force called the Taker. In others he's confused with the Trickster. I believe Umberlee removed herself from the tales, though a sorceress is sometimes referred to in her stead. He fell out of favor with her hundreds of generations ago, and she sentenced him to death. Her rage was so great that she moved oceans in her effort to kill him, only he didn't die. He's been lying dormant, like anemones that are caught in a tidal pool that evaporates, waiting to be revived. Now he lives again."

Pacys continued listening, his mind whirling with the possibilities. More than anything he remained cognizant of the music he strummed on the yarting. The tune was cold and distant, threatening, and when played properly he knew it would be commanding in the piece he was writing. The sheer force of the tune left goosebumps pebbling his flesh. It belonged to the evil that had attacked Waterdeep, stronger even than the notes he'd picked out for the sahuagin.

"As Umberlee's pet," Narros said, "he gained an image of himself as increasingly powerful, as he was. The Bitch Goddess saw to that. She gave him powers, trained him in sorcery, and gave him magical instruments that he used to build an empire in what your people call the Shining Sea. He's not yet what he was, but our prophecies say he will be again."

As Pacys continued playing involuntarily, an image of a vast labyrinth rising above the sea floor appeared in his mind's eye. It wasn't the first time that such a thing had happened. He'd experienced other clairvoyant times when the music surged strongly in him. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to fix the structure more clearly.

"Alabaster walls, blued by depths and age,

Hugged to the sea floor with Umberlee's blessing,

Lighted only by darkest evil,

Fired by jealous rage."

The words resonated in his head, and he stopped himself short of giving voice to them. He opened his eyes again, focusing on the shaman. "Do you have a name for him?" he asked.

Narros shook his head. His little girl reached out unexpectedly, floating free of her father's arms. Her soft, webbed hand reached out and caught Pacys by the chin. Going with the child's gentle but insistent push, Pacys twisted his head and bared his neck.

"Alyyx has noticed you don't have gills," Narros said. Gently, he captured his daughter and pulled her back into his arms.

Reaching into his pocket, the bard took out the small leather bag that contained the colorful marbles he used to exercise his fingers and keep them limber for the musical instruments he played. The merchild took them with obvious delight and began inspecting them.

"We were given no name for him," Narros said, "and we were bade never to speak of him except as the Taker or the Trickster. He was to be given no real identity. We've always believed that once his name was known, his power would grow again and he would be called forth from his deep slumber."

"What about the circlet?" Pacys asked. "What did it do?"

"I don't know, but he came for it fourteen years ago and wiped out over half our village taking it." A somber look filled Narros's face. "Our dead were scattered around us, torn limb from limb as if in the jaws of some great sea creature."

"Did you see him?"

"Only as a shadow," the merman shaman answered, pain filling his gray eyes, "the greatest, largest shadow anyone had ever seen, and like nothing we'd ever seen before."

The hurt distraction in the merman's eyes testified vividly to how well he remembered the night.

"Were the sahuagin with him?' Pacys asked after a moment.

"No. The Taker came alone, in the dead of night when even the sea is dark. I lost two of my sons in that battle."

"I'm sorry," Pacys said.

Narros gave his daughter a brief hug.

"Eadro willing," the small merboy stated in a serious, quiet voice, "one day I'll be strong enough to avenge my brothers."

Pacys glanced at the boy, suddenly realizing he wasn't old enough to have known his deceased brothers. The family's loss and hurt had already spanned a generation in the merman's own family.

"The prophecy," Narros went on, "told us that we might fail in protecting the circlet from the Taker, but it never mentioned at what cost. After it was over, we cared for our dead, then we swam for Waterdeep."

"Why Waterdeep?" Pacys asked.

"Because the prophecy told us the Taker would arise again, soon after his first appearance, and the place he would first strike terror into the hearts of the surface dwellers would be in their greatest city."

"Waterdeep," Pacys breathed. He was aware of the tune changing on the yarting.

"There could be no other," the shaman agreed. "Great detail was given in the prophecy of the city that would be attacked. Its towers and great heights, the fact that it was wrapped in magic and was home to champions."

"So you came here," Pacys said, "seeking asylum from Lord Piergeiron and the others."

"Yes."

"You never mentioned that Waterdeep would be attacked."

Narros eyed the bard honestly. "Do you think any would have believed us? And that was fourteen years ago. There was no guarantee that it wouldn't have been a hundred and fourteen years after we lost the circlet. It could have been the next day." He paused. "We just wanted to be here, to give an accounting of ourselves and to get a chance to avenge our sunken. We'd hoped to make a difference during the battle."

"I'm sure you did." Pacys had already heard stories of the mermen's valor during the battle for Waterdeep, and of the extra effort even the wounded had gone to while trying to save the men in the harbor.