Her heart soared with excitement. She nodded vigorously. She tried to talk and failed miserably, though a few words came across. “Feril” sounded like Groller’s “Furl”, and “crown” sounded more like “round.” Another form would be best, she considered, something that might...
The sea elf yanked the nets free. “This was a precaution, nothing more,” he said. “We did not intend to harm you. Veylona—she was certain you meant no harm to us, though we had to be convinced.”
Veylona, Feril thought. Veil? The word the sea elf woman had repeated.
“These are difficult times for us,” the Dimernesti continued. “And you must understand that visitors here are most rare. Our mystics divined that you were alone, not a spy for the dragon.”
“Veylona?” Feril said the word loud and slow.
“Veylona, she brought you here. Her command of the common tongue is not as good as mine. Veylona, she asked me to guide you. She thinks you are a sorceress.”
Feril swam free of the nets and flexed her arms and legs.
“Are you a sorceress?”
The Kagonesti shook her head. How to explain? Perhaps it was better not to. At last, she nodded slowly.
“A sorceress from the surface. Then you require air? Prefer air?”
Feril nodded again, more vigorously. If she had air to breathe, she could better talk to him, and explain why she was here and what she needed.
He motioned for her, and she followed, the other guard swimming behind her. His fingers were wrapped around the haft of a trident.
“I am Beldargh,” he said. “One of the city guardians. I am taking you to a room with air, where in decades past we brought visitors from the surface. It has not been used in a most long time.”
This room was at the top of the tower, the water in it shallow, held at bay, Feril suspected, by an enchantment cast long ago. Her face broke the surface as she concentrated on her body again, this time returning it fully to her Kagonesti form. The guard poked his head above the water next to her.
“Feril,” she gasped, as she took in a lungful of the stale air. “My name is Feril.”
“Sorceress Feril of the Surface,” Beldargh said slowly, his words sounding breathy in the air. “Were you on a ship that Brine sank? Did you survive by magic?”
“No. The dragon hasn’t sunk our ship. I hope it’s beyond his reach. But I’m here because of the dragon—all the dragons. I need your help. I need the crown.”
“The Crown of Tides?”
Feril nodded.
“Feril, I do not think that will be possible.” Beldargh’s expression darkened, and he shook his head.
“Please listen to me,” she begged. While Beldargh listened, the Kagonesti began the long tale of what brought her to the underwater realm.
“Dimernost,” Beldargh said when she was finally finished. “It will take us a day to reach there. In Dimernost you will ask our...” He groped for a word in her tongue. “Our leader. Our most wise leader will decide. We leave now.”
He motioned for her to follow, then added. “Expect disappointment, Sorceress Feril of the Surface.”
Dimernost, the capital of the underwater realm, looked much like the city Feril had first visited, though much larger. Beldargh served as her guide, and she was accompanied by a handful of other sea elves, including Veylona, the first sea elf that the Kagonesti had met.
She was led through a series of domes partially filled with air. The party stopped at an ornate room containing dozens of sea elves. Most wore few clothes and had pale blue skin, Feril noted, though others had gray skin, and a few were dark blue. Their hair color varied, as well, from white to almost blond, to green, and in many cases various shades of blue.
In the center of the assemblage stood a robed woman to whom the other elves seemed to defer. She had a matronly air, and her unblinking eyes carefully regarded Feril.
“I am Nuqala, Speaker of the Sea,” the woman began in the common tongue. Her accent was one Feril had heard spoken in Khur. “And you are a Kagonesti. Only once do I recall one of your kind visiting with us. That was a long while ago, and he was with a merchant trader seeking to barter goods. Like the trader, you appear to wish something from us.”
Feril nodded and opened her mouth to explain, but Nuqala continued.
“Word moves quickly through the water. What you wish is very valuable, precious to us and life-sustaining.” She paused a moment, and then continued. “You seem to have a considerable command of magic. That magic allowed you to avoid Bryndelsemir.”
Again Feril nodded.
“Explain yourself,” the woman stated.
Words tumbled from Feril’s lips. It was the same story she earlier had told Beldargh, but now it was much more complete: how she came across the Southern Courrain Ocean with her companions in search of Dimernesti, and how she elected to make this part of the journey alone because of her command of nature magic. She explained that she had seen no signs of the dragon, but had seen the ship graveyard.
“Ships sail here no longer,” Nuqala said. Her voice was tinged with melancholy. “We have no more trade with the surface. We are prisoners here. But we are fighters. We do not give up. Our people hunt, though some in turn are hunted by Bryndelsemir. We tend crops, and the dragon devours some of our farmers. But we will never surrender to the dragon. I believe Bryndelsemir does not want to kill us all, as he would have nothing to toy with. We use the Crown of Tides to keep him at bay, preventing him from destroying all of our cities. And you want the crown that is our defense?” Nuqala’s laughed sadly and shook her head. “You, surface elf, want us to surrender. You would doom us, and for what purpose?”
“I don’t wish to doom you but to save you and to save all of Krynn,” Feril replied. There was urgency in the Kagonesti’s voice. “The crown is old, an artifact from the Age of Dreams. Palin Majere believes...”
“Majere? Palin, nephew of Raistlin?” The sea elf tilted her head. “That is a name I have not heard for decades. Palin Majere lives?”
“Yes. He sent us here, to recover the crown. He believes that with the crown, and with other artifacts, we can stop Takhisis from returning and can make a stand against the overlords.”
“You want to help your people against the dragons on the surface. You want me to hand over something sacred to save the surface dwellers.”
“I won’t deny that,” Feril returned. “But I also want to help you. Please believe me. We haven’t much time. Takhisis is returning. And if the Dark Queen comes back to Krynn, your people will have worse things to worry about than a sea dragon.”
The other elves in the domed chamber spoke among themselves, some arguing. A few chattered heatedly to Nuqala in the tongue Feril could only catch pieces of. Nuqala seemed to absorb all their conversations.
“The crown is one of our most hallowed treasures,” she said at last, turning back to Feril. “It belongs to the Dimernesti. It is part of our heritage, linked to our lives.”
“There will be no Dimernesti if the dragons have their way and Takhisis returns,” said the Kagonesti.
“I will consider your words, as I will consider the words of my people. You will stay as our guest for the day, surface elf. In the morning, you shall have my answer.”
17
Rough Waters
“I don’t like this one bit.” Rig pressed the spyglass to his eye, looking out across the choppy water tinted pink by the dawn sun. “She should’ve been back by now. It’s been three days.”
Dhamon leaned against the railing nearby, his gazed fixed on a swell in the distance. “We have to wait for her.”
“I don’t intend to pull up the anchor... just yet,” the mariner returned. “So you don’t have to be all worried that I’ll leave her stranded—if she’s still alive. She’s a friend of mine, and I’m not one to abandon my friends. But waiting isn’t my style either. If Palin contacts Usha again tonight, I’ll see how much longer we can afford to stay here.” He thrust the glass at Dhamon. “I’m gonna wake up Fiona, and the two of us’ll fix some breakfast. Something edible. Something better than what Blister came up with last night.”