He'd long delighted in his ability to swim better than others and hold his breath for heart -stopping spans of time.
That ability had saved him more than once.
Things were different since he'd returned from the cursed isle where the great kraken laired. There, he'd been wet longer than dry. He'd been surrounded by those damned fishy kuo-toa, fighting them, killing them, being bled on by them... and that walking statue! When he saw it, something inside his head trembled, as if on the verge of making some kind of sense!
Thoster blearily recalled falling to his knees in front of the rogue eidolon they'd fought, begging his allies to leave "her" alone. Madness! Why'd he done that?
He couldn't remember. No, that wasn't entirely true. Something had been familiar about that damned shrine. He didn't want to think on it.
The change in his flesh was accelerating. He worried that achieving full understanding might make the change come all the quicker.
"Look at it, will you?" he exclaimed, waving his scaled arm. "When will it stop? Am I becoming a fish-man... a kuo-toa mayhap? Or something with even less of a mind when all's said and done?"
Anusha had no answers. Even were she awake, she couldn't know how he'd come to suffer his curse. It was something he'd not shown anyone else, though he suspected Nogah might have known somehow. He'd never asked her, and now she was dead, taking Thoster's secret with her.
He allowed his coat sleeve to ride back down to his wrist, covering the unsightly blemish. He drew another breath from his pipe. The glow from its bowl glinted in his eyes.
"The way everyone seems to go on about the Dreamheart's power... I wager I could use it to stave off what's ailing me. After that, well, sure, let Raidon break it into a thousand pieces." Thoster puffed, then said, " 'Course, that's rubbish—ill luck follows me like a cold wind. The monk's given up chasing the warlock and the Dreamheart. Now we're heading straight into the earth to where the relic was spit up."
He shook his head.
"Which means no one gets it. Behroun can take a long walk off a short pier, eh? Raidon's decided it don't matter anymore, thinks he's got bigger fish to hook. The drug-addled warlock already has it..."
Thoster scratched his chin. "Aye, the warlock's had the orb for quite a spell. And in all that time, he ain't managed to wake you up, poor lass. Either his sorcery is too weak for the job... or your mind ain't actually trapped in it." He stirred the burning leaf shreds in his pipe bowl with a wood splinter.
"Japheth ain't no slouch. I've seen what he's capable of. By now he'd have had you out of the stone if you were in it. Which means... you ain't!"
"So where are you?"
The pirate peered close at Anusha. Then his eyes widened.
"I wonder... I have an idea where your mind's gone. And I'm but a simple man of the sea. If I can figure it, your cloaked protector with his fancy pact can do the same."
The captain stood. He said, "Raidon tells us the relic is part of Xxiphu. I bet ten years' take your mind's drained down to the same place."
He nodded to himself. "I could be whistling past the graveyard, but I bet we find Japheth and his orb when we reach our destination. Ha! Maybe I can borrow the Dreamheart from him then. He won't be expecting us, that's sure."
Thoster inclined his head. "Rare's the person who listens so well without interruption. I might grow to like such a thoughtful companion."
He studied the woman. Despite her sallow countenance, she was still pretty, though a sad sight too. He wondered if she'd live. It surprised him to discover he hoped she would.
Thoster quit Anusha's cabin, leaving behind the scent of burned tobacco.
*****
Seren's jaw ached. She realized she was gritting her teeth.
The wizard worked her mouth open and shut, imagining her muscles relaxing. She had to let go of the tension, or she would spoil the ritual.
It wasn't that she was surprised bounty hunters yet sniffed after her trail. Others had tried to apprehend Seren over the last several years. A few she had killed in selfdefense, and the others had lost her trail. The last attempt had been four years earlier, well before she shipped out with Green Siren.
And now Dhenna Shavres had let it be known to wizard takers everywhere that Seren was still alive and somewhere on the Sea of Fallen Stars. Why had she trusted that woman? She hoped Morgenthel refused to pay Rose Keep's finder's fee, having failed to capture his quarry.
Not much she could do about that now. Just continue with her own plan, slipshod as it was.
If she could gather enough gold, perhaps the regent would rescind her death warrant...
Part of her knew the undertaking was probably foolish. Szass Tam wasn't known for giving second chances to his foes. Her only hope was that the regent didn't actually consider Seren an enemy or, better yet, even know her name—she was far too insignificant! It was probably a sycophant or lower-level functionary who had put the price on Seren's head. If she could pay that off, plus a hefty bribe on top of the value of the lost treasury, then she might just purchase her life back.
And if she wanted it, perhaps her rightful place in the power structure of Thay...
The hairs on her arms prickled as if a phantom breezed past. Her throat grew tight with apprehension.
There would be opportunity to worry about that later. Now it was time to concentrate on the job at hand.
Seren took a deep breath, expelled it, and began the rite.
She chanted the first stanza of the ritual, mouthing harsh fragments of ancient tongues fused with arcane syllables. Normally she didn't have to understand what she said to perform a ritual penned on a scroll. She just followed the directions provided, no matter how obscure or even obtuse.
This would not be that simple. She repeated the previous stanza with a variation penned in glittering green ink. Her biggest obstacle was the mere fact she'd relearned her entire craft over the last ten years. When the blue fires winked on the horizon, they'd stolen away more than the treasury of Raven's Bluff, they'd also pilfered all her arcane achievements.
Seren began the second stanza, recalling how she'd learned magic anew. Because of her relative youth compared to many established in Mystra's graces, the way of the Weave didn't have too strong a hold over her.
Moreover, before the disaster, many had called her a prodigy. Only a few years beyond her twentieth and she'd already been an up-and-coming Red Wizard. They used to tell stories about her uncanny knack in forging new spells. Everyone expected she'd go far.
After the disaster, Seren had a stark choice. She could abandon the art she'd worked so hard to master, and give in to Thay*s wrath, or she could fight back.
While most wizards bemoaned their loss, she found an abandoned laboratory. She didn't give up.
And she'd been rewarded. Arcane mastery was still possible. It merely required a new way of accessing the eldritch currents that yet flowed through the world and beyond.
Morgenthel had nearly ruined it all with his surprise attack.
Seren stuttered as she moved on to the third stanza of the ritual, this one inscribed in ash. She nearly lost control—
A vision of gleaming teeth and claws slashed through her concentration. A creature of savage hunger and chaos!
It bounded toward her, loosing a horrid croak. She cried out.
The image dissolved as quickly as it had formed, only a delusion pulled from the wavering threads of a ritual bent far past its purpose.
Feeling guilty, she wrenched her thoughts for the second time to the rite. If she didn't contemplate the changes she intended, she'd fail. Perhaps spectacularly.